04 July 2016

Missing You

20 June 2016

Let It Happen (Tame Impala)

15 June 2016

Admiral Cod On Tour: Arizona

Michel Houellebecq - Playa Blanca

31 May 2016

Admiral Cod On Tour: Palm Springs

Sunglass Matrix

h/t The Art of Manliness

20 May 2016

Drunk Sports

Tennis & Cocktails

15 May 2016

My Favorite Day

09 May 2016

Officers' Mess

About A Boy

The boys in the photo (at left - h/t CH) look like me and my friends in suburban New York and Connecticut in the late '70s. We spent most of our free time outdoors. In fact, when I think back to my happiest moments, they invariably were outside, in forests and fields, creeks and lakes. Long days of bright sunshine. At weekends we would wear striped Adidas shoes--not Sambas or Gazelles, I forget the name of the model--windbreakers, polo shirts, and cruise around the neighborhood on our Schwinn Stingrays like a little biker gang. When we weren't hunting down big snapping turtles and crayfish in the creeks, we were fighting the other neighborhood boys.

The girls liked me and I liked them. They loved tousling my blond hair and daring me to kiss them and touch them. When I was around 7 or 8 I got into serious trouble with the school authorities who caught me kissing a cute little blonde girl, 'W,' after school one day. Her parents were not amused. I'll never forget the lecture I got from my father, who seemed very concerned. He was still in his three-piece Wall Street suit when he arrived home from work and sat me down in a darkened room for the talk. I like to think this incident didn't obstruct my pre-teen Game, but I'm not so sure.

It may sound odd to you, but there wasn't a time when I didn't think about sex. That I was precocious in this department would be an understatement. I became familiar with details of the female anatomy at a very young age, courtesy of various teenage babysitters (e.g. a set of hot Italian/Jewish twins) and a young Persian nanny whose wealthy parents in Iran sent her to live with us right before the revolution. I'll write more about her later.

08 May 2016

Ignem Veni Mittere In Terram

contre le monde moderne

06 May 2016

Fucking With Feminists

I learned early on that some women are full of shit. And I'm not talking about my own family members.

When I as an undergraduate, two of my first lays during my first year were feminists. One was the cute, petite daughter of a well-known architect. She would lead candle-lit "Take Back The Night" marches through campus. She lobbied the administration to have the women's bathrooms re-labelled "womyn's bathrooms". She took a shine to me--even when (or because) I laughed at her--and would wait for me outside my door in the evenings after class so we could fuck. She was a total submissive in bed.

The other feminist chick was an attractive blonde with a messed-up family background. She was genuinely beautiful, but deliberately made herself mildly unattractive--messy hair, no make-up, hippy clothing e.g. Baja hoodies--and wore baggy, loose-fitting clothing as some sort of rebellion against beauty standards. One of our friends in common, knowing my Nationalist fogey views, set us up together as a sort of joke--but we clicked. We would go back to her room, smoke weed, listen to music by 10,000 Maniacs and Bjork, and then fuck on the huge hippy cushions in trendy ethnic fabrics that littered her flat. Her great dream was to get a degree in Women's Studies and move to NYC to work with abused women and the homeless. Funny thing is, the word got out among the other girls in her residence hall about our dalliances, and I soon found myself with some new admirers.

I used to--and to some extent still do--feel a bit sorry for these women, because they've been lied to and mislead,. But we all have to one extent or another, and we get over it and move on.

Rolling With The Hounds

10 February 2016

Stand Out Singular Tweed

01 January 2016

31 December 2015

Happy New Year

25 December 2015

Merry Christmas 2015


21 December 2015

Pipe & Tweed

Edward Green Vintage

17 December 2015

Poolside

16 December 2015

Dystopian Tales

15 December 2015

Tartan Tuesday

14 December 2015

Drinking for Chaps: How to Choose One's Booze (Gustav Temple & Olly Smith)

'Hot on the heels of Cooking for Chaps, published in 2014, comes an authoritative and definitive guide to getting plastered. [As if I need one - Ed.]

Drinking for Chaps is a collaboration between Gustav Temple and esteemed drinks writer Olly Smith. Together they embarked on a magical journey to the heart of each and every type of alcoholic drink imaginable, from cocktails to cognac and everything in between, in order to set out precisely how Chaps should approach each of them. From which particular jacket to wear when sipping white wine, what to nibble with a glass of vodka, how to mix a dry martini, and, crucially, how to deal with an awful hangover, Drinking For Chaps shows true chaps the way to the bar.

 Packed with history, background, a bit of technical information (but not too much), mythology and portraits of legendary boozers such as Oliver Reed, Sir Kingsley Amis, Winston Churchill and Peter O’Toole, there is plenty to read in this tome aside from which bottle of cheap plonk to take to a dinner party (though that’s in there too).

Endorsed by none other than Sir Roger Moore: “Fascinating, especially as I pop up all over the pages!” and Guardian drinks writer Henry Jeffries, who declared: “Tackling such important issues as whether it’s ever acceptable to wear a fez while drinking cocktails, it’s best read when slightly drunk. I can offer no higher praise.”'

11 December 2015

Ed Meier - München

10 December 2015

Prussian Junker

Prussian Junker, 1910 (Note: proper beard)

Modern Life is War

(h/t HB)

08 December 2015

The Brooks Brothers Shirt

As you know, I have been a Brooks Brothers customer since I was very young. I regularly peruse the company literature. I recently spotted this quote from Tom Davis, a Brooks Brothers salesman, on the famed Fiat chairman and style icon Gianni Agnelli, who only wore Brooks Brothers button-down shirts:

 "Mr. Agnelli loved clothing, and he was like a kid in a candy shop when I took him for a tour around the store...He wore three colors: white, beige, blue. Not stripe, never another color."

I found this quote very timely, as I have similarly limited my shirtings to just a few colours: white, beige, blue, and pink. No stripes, no patterns. Button-down and spread collar. Pinpoint and oxford cloth. That's it.

After completing an audit of my dress shirt collection, I removed all of the unconventional numbers. It may be difficult getting rid of certain items, especially the expensive ones, but it does make things easier in the long run. When you know what you like and what looks good, go with it.

A proper dress shirt is the foundation of the professional chap's wardrobe. Keep it simple, clean, and classic.

Save the flash for interesting ties, watches, and accessories, if you so choose.

The Rand Club: The Rhodes Room

The Rand Club (1887-2015)

Tartan Tuesday