Skip to main content

A Snowy Wednesday. . .



The snow squall in which I left the house early this Wednesday morning looked like we might get hammered by a big early spring snow.  Alas, it was not to be.  

The warm, comfortable ensemble illustrated here provided solace along with a vintage camel polo coat, a 30+ year-old long school scarf, tweed driving cap, and a pair of well-worn leather driving gloves.  In addition, the combo of items featured Orange SWIMS that have been my foul weather footwear protection for a couple of years now since I replaced the previous red ones, which had finally worn out beyond all repair.  

I must have been quite a sight and lacked only the goggles plus a 1930s roadster with the top down.  Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright has nothing on me!

Otherwise, more of the usual suspects but with the addition of a recently acquired wool sports jacket from J. Press, purchased a couple of weeks ago on season clearance and freshly returned from the tailor following the usual couple of minor alterations.

On second thought, I should have gone with more muted socks given the strong pattern on the jacket.  The SWIMS, I always forget, also leave a patina of dust one's shoes when they are removed, spoiling an otherwise nice shine.  Ah, well.  I'm sure I was the only one to notice in the sea of sweatpants, sneakers, Uggs, and hoodies layered beneath "fast fashion" winter jackets that provide little warmth by themselves.

I do sometimes wonder what planet I have landed on.  And then I remember.  It's me.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

  1. Your new jacket looks great! J Press has quality merchandise.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

All opinions are welcome here. Even those that differ from mine. But let's keep it clean and civil, please.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Popular Posts

Up North Style. . .

Bad Dad makes a friend. YMP and Bad Dad on the shores of Lake Michigan.  Or was that Crystal Lake? The Grand Duchess takes a selfie in her kayak. How NOT to impress the girls sunning themselves along the river. YMP and Bad Dad kayaking on the Platte River headed toward Loon Lake.   J ust back from a week in Northern Michigan in a charming and spacious house on the banks of the Betsie River outside of Thompsonville.  A largely pleasant seven days despite some challenging episodes with the Young Master, who has picked up some very questionable habits and language from his friends in the 8th Grade during the school year just ended.  But otherwise, we enjoyed ourselves and contemplated remaining for a few days longer since the house was available.   In the end, we decided to return home as planned originally since neither my wife, nor I wanted to spend the remaining days chained to our computers in Zoom meetings from our vacation destination.  I actually managed to leave the laptop and ip

Mid-June Thursday Style. . .

    A nother pretty typical variation on the theme for late spring, summer, and very early fall.  I'm a huge fan of Madras and have several such shirts in the seasonal rotation.  Lightweight, exceedingly comfortable, and even dressy when pressed and tucked in, which is the usual way of things here at Totleigh in the Wold.   Now, if I had my druthers, I'd still rather be skiing the trails in the upper half of "The Mitten" (of Michigan), in the Upper Peninsula, or Ontario.  But summers ain't so bad either, and I'd look pretty funny walking around in cross-country ski attire during June. -- Heinz-Ulrich

A Lazy Saturday at the End of June. . .

  A sleepy first half of the weekend here at Totleigh.  Warmer and quite humid ahead of an approaching cool front here in Mid-Michigan.  Perfect for yet another pair of chino shorts an a seersucker shirt -- tucked in of course -- with the usual leather deck shoes and ribbon belt.  Otherwise, not much accomplished beyond a page or so of writing and monkeying around with audio settings for an upcoming podcast episode.   However, I was not completely useless yesterday!  I made a huge fruit salad for dinner, which the Grand Duchess and I enjoyed a short while later at the table on the back porch.  The Young Master, as is his wont on Saturday evenings,  took his dinner on a tray in the TV room upstairs where he whiled away a couple of hours on Flight Simulator, flying some sort of commercial airliner to some destination across the Atlantic or Pacific.  I would have loved that sort of technology at about nine or 10 way back during the late 1970s, aka The Stone Age.  As it is, my sister and