Post-Birthday Monday. . .

Taking a page from my late mother's handbook, I celebrated yet another 29th birthday yesterday and enjoyed a lovely, quiet Sunday at home with The Grand Duchess and Young Master. A late waffle breakfast and Thai take-out later that evening, courtesy of my wife, plus chocolate cake and a few gifts after dinner. The Grand Duchess, bless her, gave me a bottle of St. John's Bay Rum aftershave, which is divine. Easily the most fragrant Bay Rum I have found. Even more so than Royall Bay Rum.

Attire for today (Monday) includes a vintage Harris Tweed jacket that I found in my old Central Illinois thrift/charity shop for about US$7 about eight or 10 years ago. Almost everything today, now that I think about it, came from Land's End except the Allen Edmonds shoes and belt. The vintage Land's End necktie, a favorite this time of year, is 100% wool, hand sewn in the U.S.A. of fabric woven in Italy.

Yes, Virginia. At one time, you could actually purchase quality items at reasonable prices from LE that did not resemble stretchy sweats, Snuggies, or lycra-infused, so called "comfort" items that might be more at home in a Kindergarten classroom than an adult workplace.

So the lesson for today? Smaller and fewer portions at mealtimes, limit snacking, and know your precise clothing sizes. The comfort issue will solve itself.

On a related note, just say "No more!" to the ongoing infantilization of life and society at all levels. You can start by taking a conscious step back from the perpetually rumpled, torn, and food-stained soiled laundry hamper aesthetic that dominates the cultural landscape in 2022, and instead dress like an adult who gives a damn. It's not at all difficult, and far from the erroneous hardship that so many imagine dressing better than the average must invariably be.

I know, I know. The genie is already well out of the bottle. But a guy can still hope, eh?

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Comments

Avoid Careless Chatter. . .

E specially about the personal details of our lives. There is a lot that OUGHT to be kept more private in 2022 than has become the accepted norm for many. With the conscious and intentional cultivation of classic style in mind, however, we want to avoid oversharing and keep a bit more of ourselves to ourselves. Exactly what personal information and how much of it to keep private seems to be a slippery concept though. Here’s my take based on what I was told and observed as a child and young person at home. Basically, one should keep oneself to oneself in all respects (finances, personal worth, accomplishments, politics, sex, dirty laundry, etc.). As my late father used to advise when we were very small, and I am talking preschool and kindergarten, there were particular subjects that were not discussed outside the immediate family. There is a time and place for sharing certain details of one’s life, but most of the time, those should be played very close to the chest,

Chilly Late April Wednesday Attire. . .

Y ou know, if it is going to remain this cold and blustery, I need about eight inches of snow for some more cross-country skiing. But since the white stuff is long gone, it was time to fish through the cedar closet down in Zum Stollenkeller and pull out some cold weather attire for a seasonal reboot. But I decided to forgo the usual gray herringbone jacket from J. Press (my go-to tweed sports jacket) and instead opted for this number from Hart, Schaffner, and Marx plus the tan cords that hang on the same hanger, so strenuous mental effort was not required. Pressed the shirt after tucking in the Young Master last night at 8:30, grabbed these shoes, and socks, and Bob is your mother's brother as they say. Occasionally gazing through the large library window to my immediate left this morning, and I keep hearing that old Jobim tune drift through my mind this morning (aided by the windmills), as sung by Astrud Gilberto ( together with Leonard Cohen and Paolo Conte, the musi

The Pleasaures of a Well-trained Dog. . .

A few final photographs from my visit to my sister in Washington, D.C. last week. These include one of 'Mr. Beau,' my sister's meticulously trained and truly wonderful Doberman, another of my sister, second cousin, step-father, and yours truly on the steps of the church outside Lexington, North Carolina just after our late mother's interment service, two of me solo at the National Cathedral, and a final one of my sister and me hamming it up during a long evening walk the day before I returned to Michigan. My sister routinely walks to the cathedral, about three blocks from her place, to enjoy the grounds and gardens. The Bishop's Garden, in particular, is a place she likes to sit for quiet contemplation and internal dialogues with our late maternal grandparents and mother, very much in keeping with the Episcopal side of things. Our grandfather, who was raised Methodist, became an Episcopalian when he married our grandmother. Before you ask, I am not sure tha

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