Leisure Class

2010-10-05T01:21:00.000-07:00

Recently I had the pleasure of staying at The Mark Hotel in New York's Upper East Side. Hip young people may deride the Upper East Side--or UES--as stuffy and patrician, but it's so out it's in.

Precisely because you don't get the tedium of hordes of hipsters residing in one small area, the Upper East Side is very hip. One gets a nice contrast.

The Mark Hotel was recently renovated by famous French designer, Jacques Grange.

www.themarkhotel.com/

TIP OF THE DAY.

2010-06-21T00:43:00.000-07:00

To bypass the recent draconian airline restrictions of No Liquids onboard an airplane, one should purchase bottles of Duty Free Liquors and drink them on the plane.

This plan is, however, limited by the selection Duty Free shops have of fine alcohol although one can usually always find a suitable champagne at a Duty Free.

West Coast Chic.

2010-05-11T03:14:00.000-07:00

I most recently made the grave error of attending a fashion show in Berkeley. Never mind that it was held by a former member of the famed "Antwerp Six". Never even mind that it was held in a museum.

All this was rendered wholly irrelevant by the mere and utter fact that it was held in Berkeley, California. This is where failed artists come to die and hawk their unoriginal "artwork" in local Art & Wine fairs.

Hardly a venue for International Style.

It was Walter Van Beirondonck's "restaging" of one of his recent shows, and for all its hoopla and huzzah, it was not particularly satisfying.

Walter Van Beirondonck, a bear of a man and a lover of bears, that hirsute niche of homosexuality especially prevalent in the S.F. Bay Area, had enlisted an All-Bear model work-force. Never have I felt more diminutive.

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Naturally, I arrived late and parked haphazardly in front of the venue--much like Francoise Sagan was drunkenly prone to do with her fancy sportscars--but the surly aged homosexual demon would not let me into his inner lair despite my name being on the invite list. Indeed, the show hadn't even begun and he was being all Queen Bitch about it.

I had to make do with loitering in the lobby.

There was a "bar" area, which consisted of a few foldaway tables and scattered jugs of Costco-grade concentrated fruit-juices and some questionable bottles of "Plum-Infused Vodka". They weren't serving as the "show was about to begin", but I highly expected their tipples to be over-priced and thoroughly undrinkable. You can just taste the High Fructose Corn Syrup.

I casually asked one of the bar patrons what sort of horse-piss they were hawking over there, but they would have none of my cheeky humor.

The crowd was peppered with the ubiquitous fashion types, lumpen sugary faggots and the women who love them, outrageously dressed theatrical types, an alarming amount of Asiatics, middle-aged PBS subscribers, and me.

There was a surfeit of twinkish individuals who were sexually, morally and genetically ambiguous. In 18th-century Britain, the first Earl of Bristol of the aristocratic Hervey family had a son so ambivalent it prompted Lady Mary Wortley Montagu to define three types of human: men, women and Herveys.

I suspect there would have been a lot of Herveys at this event.

I chose to wear a black velvet suit with mustard yellow silk shirt and matching necktie, and I daresay I was the only one wearing proper neckwear.

Were it not for the overreaching pretension of this whole circus, it would have reeked of the proletariat.

Of course, it was Berkeley, CA.

The Intelligent Alternative.

2010-04-28T02:59:00.000-07:00

Today the world is filled with the meek and oppressed, and I am not simply talking about poor people or more accursedly, the middle-class.

I am talking about fragrances. The "trend" nowadays is to exploit the formerly tasteful option of light florals to create a lilac holocaust of unimpressive offensively inoffensive scents and eau de toilettes.

The intelligent alternative is something dark and musky, redolent of interesting adventures and back-alley encounters.

Something like Robert Piguet's Bandit would be a fine contender for this niche. A French couturier who also released a number of scents, Bandit was created in the 1940s by a well-known nose named Germaine Cellier, who was also incidentally a Sapphic, or a woman who preferred the company of other women.

Allegedly, she replicated the scent on the used panties of the runway models after a fashion show. Now if that's not dyke behavior, I don't know what is.

But lesbians have a peculiar particular talent for taste, and this is a delicious fragrance with a slight chemical overtone that suggests a kind of vinyl-clad passion.

Characterized as a leather chypre, Bandit contains the obtuse synthenic, isobutyl quinoline that is used to replicate the difficult leather note. Indeed, Cellier used 1% of the stuff which in perfume-world, is considered an huge amount.

Alternatively, the minimalist scale of the scent world is also rife with potential mates. The severity of these sorts of scents is quite compelling, aggressive in their chemical romance.

One envisions bespectacled women in lab-coats in their pristine Eileen Grey-esque interiors watering their ferns whilst an elaborate glass atomizer blows out these clinical olfactory luxuries.

PhD Required.

2010-04-12T19:50:00.003-07:00

This is not pattern-matching for the timid or the amateur:

2010-04-02T16:29:00.000-07:00

Recently, as some of my readers know, I went to New York City. I chose a somewhat unfortunate day to go as the Eastern Seaboard was enjoying a bout of forceful snow, and so in the airport/cancellation rigamarole that ensued, I snapped the telescoping handle of my Zero Halliburton aluminum suitcase.

However, after a telephone call to the company headquarters in Utah, they instructed me to send the case to their repair facility in Salt Lake City.

A few weeks later--today to be exact--the case arrived via UPS and repaired courtesy of their Lifetime Warranty. They were even kind enough to punch out the dented corners.

It is quite refreshing that there are still companies who produce a quality consumer good and stand by it.

This is particularly apposite given the leviathan-like presence of companies like Gucci or the LVMH octopus who churn out ostensibly "luxurious" products that for all their posturing do not have much of a quality guarantee.

2010-03-29T23:26:00.001-07:00

That hoary old chestnut, "God is in the details" seems to be more and more neglected nowadays in architecture.

Despite the sacrosanct reputation that Mies van der Rohe seems to have with the contemporary architectural community, they--for all appearances--have seemed to have completely ignored his diktat.

That is not to say that contemporary architecture is sloppy or ill-defined. Maybe the latter, but usually not the former; however, the love affair of contemporary architecture with the overall Form is troublesome.

Ostensibly well-respected architectural critics--such as the grandly named Nicolai Ouroussoff of the New York Times--like to wax heoric on say, recent Pritzker Prize winner SANAA's ability to “reawaken” the “belief in the power of glass to enchant.”

That may very well be true--Voyeurs of the World Unite!--and I am not one to say that SANAA's recent New Museum in New York is unaesthetic in its Form, but the interior space is definitely lacking.

This obsession with minimalistic white spaces and roughly hewn concrete, large empty spaces that supposedly exalt elegant reductionism but are sullied with visual non-sequiturs like EXIT signs and fire hydrants, is aesthetically tedious and intellectually tenuous.

Such things are fantastic on paper when it's lovingly watercolored and gouached, but in sheer actual realization the practicality of it all overwhelms and underwhelms all potential suspicions of great Platonic beauty.

Huge glass walls become smudged and moldy within a few years; white paint is crudely done; wooden doors split; hardware is generic and rather cheap-looking; there's usually overly-bright lighting of some sort involved somewhere. One might as well be in a provincial Chinese apartment building.

Indeed, this is the tension of theory put into practice; but the issue here isn't necessarily how difficult it is to parse concept into practice, but the pretentious verbiage that surrounds and supports it.

"Oh, that is absolutely brilliant the way the luminosity of the glass is transcendent" and other such nonsense.

Craftsmanship has been overall ignored within contemporary architecture. Of course, one has skilled concrete pourers or something generally forgettable like that, but where are the skilled marble carvers or mosaic-layers?

The great genius of someone like Adolf Loos was his cogent integration of traditionally very rich materials with a highly formalist modernism. An architect wouldn't dare use gold mosaic these days lest they be mistaken for someone who practices that most reviled of genres: Faux-Tuscan.

Today the tyranny of blonde wood and brushed steel handles reigns supreme; this poverty of spirit is cloaked in the purple prose of so-called "criticism"--more like masturbation without the mess--and the incestual fluttering society that surrounds it.

I have been inside a great many buildings designed by famous contemporary people and most of the time I leave with one great impression--where were the free Coscto food samples?

Vidal-rific.

2010-03-05T19:27:00.000-08:00

Gore Vidal, what a sexual buccaneer.

Despite what his political aspirations might have one believe, this was no thoroughbred American boy. A stud perhaps in bed with other American boys, but certainly no paragon of Puritan spirit.

In his Palimpsest, he recounts his numerous homosexual encounters with a collector's passion. Indeed, were this not a literary man, one would have assumed this was a mere degenerate, but the confusion between the two is often difficult to parse.

Unlike his "ancient friend Paul Bowles", Gore Vidal is utterly un-reticent in flaunting his sexual proclivities; or rather, he is unrepentant in indulging in them unlike the suspiciously ascetic Bowles whose concessions to homoeroticism are contained within fiction such as the dangerously incestual short story, "Pages from Cold Point".

Not unlike Allan Bloom--whose Closing of the American Mind ironically became a kind of mantra for the American right--Gore Vidal seemed to have dabbled in the furtive and the elusive both of which make sexuality--especially a sexuality such as same-sex sexuality--all the more interesting, and dare I say it, perverse.

This is no false regressive nostalgia--the pursuit of today's brand of Public Sexuality is only as interesting as the corporate identities that choose to fund these "festivals" and "parades".

I'll only go if there's an Open Bar.

Fashion Week for the Fashionable.

2010-02-21T21:54:00.000-08:00

The great revelation of Life is that Fashion Week is not populated by the Fashionable. Nor for that matter, the Intelligent.

I was most recently at New York Fashion Week, and whilst the city was its usual jaunty self, the compounding factor of that kind of gung-ho attitude with the highly questionable tastes of the naive, young and fashion-conscious was truly unappealing if not appalling.

The Bryant Park crowd consisted of people in clothing that did not contain much thought. Now, this is different from an impulse that derives from Intent or rather Intention. Clearly people had put thought into their outfits, but it was not buoyed by anything historic or of tradition thus there was no true Intent.

As my dear friend Nels Frye of Stylites in Beijing observed, people who wore spiked black leather heels were only doing it for the sake of sheer unmitigated appearance and not in the hopes of authenticity, or even of thoughtful self-aware artifice.

Was that petite Asian girl really telling the world that she was into Whipping and Fisting?

Maybe, but the Hello Kitty! cellphone charm belied that presumption.

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The male homosexual fashion contingent was out in full-force in outrageously distasteful things that were even less informed than their female counterparts. I felt the wave of Homophobia overtaking me; I would have soon turned into a Homophone.

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One of the more interesting venues during Fashion Week was the Milk Studio which had some of the younger designers showing such as Patrik Ervell, Rad Hourani, Band of Outsiders, et al. Bryant Park felt positively Prole in comparison.

Indeed, the Milk set made the Doyennes of Fashion feel like bloated dinosaurs with their cheap celebrity mongering, which provides the kind of schlocky vicarious thrills that only aspiring fashion merchandising students at some cut-rate state school and housewives in flyover states find exciting.

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Speaking of bloated entities, I encountered Tim Blanks of GQ/Conde Nast at a party and he was perfectly rude in the most imperfect way--it suggested a working class background. I suspect he pillow-bited his way up.

Another Mad Dog was Hamish Bowles--pronounced "Himish" apparently--who was out and about at the Seven 10th Anniversary Party at the Tribeca Grand Hotel.

No self-respecting "dandy" would be seen in public gyrating to Lady Gaga whilst attempting to ply a young catamite with overpriced badly-made alcoholic beverages. One could envision the broken dreams and empty tubes of hemorrhoid cream in that morning after. No pill will fix that shame.

One can always tell a tasteless homosexual by how they coyly sip on their drinks with those thin black mixing straws.

I also sighted the repulsively androgynous Bryanboy of Bryanboy blog fame at some of the shows; who let him out of the Philippines? If his very existence isn't an issue of moral turpitude, I don't know what is.

Overladen with priss, overwrought with self-important vapidity, these shrill sugary incestual components of the fashion world have not moved beyond grotesque stereotype. The archetypes of the old Boys in the Band era is alive and well--not even the AIDS can kill it.

But then there's always next season no?

2009-12-31T00:52:00.000-08:00

Fernand Legros, the late millionaire art-dealer/forger is our Inspiration for the end of the year:

With mystic artist Isabelle de Kervalec

Legros was even the inspiration for one of Herge's characters in the last uncompleted Tintin book:

French author Roger Peyrefitte wrote a biography of Legros as well, documenting his infamous climb from unknown to well-known:

Really Reel.

2009-12-12T02:17:00.000-08:00

With all its virtual wizardry, digital has its convenience and practical uses, but for aesthetic and intellectual interest, it is generally common. Quite common, in fact--envision the hordes of urbanites with their iPhones and iPods, utterly unique in their lack of uniqueness.

I digress, however.

Vinyl has seen an unexpected resurgence especially amongst young people who are perhaps tired of their digital existence and take refuge in a kind of false nostalgia.

Analog's supposed superiority lies in the warmness that one often encounters; when an audio medium is recorded to vinyl, harmonic distortion occurs, which imparts the "warmness" people often toss about in audiophile verbiage.

Sonic warmness is also true of tape. Forget the image of that plastic Panasonic cassette deck--leave that nonsense to the thrift stores.

The music that is put on vinyl was originally recorded on master tapes so one can see where the superiority of tape might come in. Vinyl people might be interested to note that tape also lacks the RIAA curve of vinyl.

One could make the case that Tape is the audio format that has the most Snob Appeal, even outweighing the niche appeal of vinyl; some audiophiles used to record their vinyl onto reel to reel take to prevent undue groove wear, and with some kind of noise reduction/sound enhancement device such as DBX, one could even acquire an arguably "superior" sound by virtue of the expansion encoding done to the tape's dynamic range.

So for today's Why Don't You: Why Don't You get a reel to reel tape machine?

Teac A-3340S with RC-120 remote control and DBX 128 Dynamic Range Enhancer/Noise Reduction running Maxell UD 35-180.

Out To Lunch.

2009-11-19T13:47:00.000-08:00

What is the ideal complement to lunch?

Three martinis may be classic, but I think champagne is far more exciting. It brings to mind Diana Vreeland's diktat "Why Don't You?"

Indeed, why don't you bring your own half-bottle of Pol Roger to lunch?

Nerd-a-licious.

2009-11-08T18:11:00.000-08:00

Nerds age well. People who were the "Jock" or Beauty Queen in high school or what have you do not age well--varicose veins, bald pates and saggy skin abounds.

Enclosed indoors listening to obscure '60s music, cataloging their rare rock/record/stamp/perfume collections on floppy-disk, nerds thus avoid the harmful rays of the sun and all that which proclaims an "active wholesome" lifestyle.

Indeed, is there anything more irksome or pretentiously bourgeois than proclamations of a "healthy" lifestyle?

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Glamorous Nerds:

Jarvis Cocker

YSL

Viktor & Rolf

Todd Solondz

John Waters

Brian Eno:

Red China.

2009-10-01T03:20:00.000-07:00

Today is apparently the 60th Anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China. Aside from the rather grand spectacle of the military parade, we have this important sartorial point: Mao suits. It is appealing to see the Communist top brass in Mao suits, a charming anachronism almost.

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2009-09-25T23:49:00.000-07:00

Texan businessman, Amon Carter in a Stetson Open Road type hat. Indeed, legend has it that he was the originator of the Open Road hat, which he designed in collaboration with Stetson.

He was the quintessential flamboyant Texan, adopting the pose of a mythological cattle baron--he would carry pearl-handled pistols, which he fired wildly with whoops in the streets of the cities he visited.

He also wore custom ostrich-skin boots, vicuna coats, white Stetsons, and everything was monogrammed and personalized to the n-th degree.

Miss.Rogers.

2009-09-16T22:50:00.000-07:00

Here we have Millicent Rogers, socialite and style maverick. I am particularly fond of the way she has piled on jewelry amongst a simple sartorial backdrop.

She was well-known for her patronage of bold Southwestern/Native Indian styles of jewelry.

2009-09-10T19:33:00.000-07:00

Apple should have come out with a gold laptop.

This Powerbook is coated in 24kt gold.

Courtesy of:

http://www.computer-choppers.com/index.html

Inspirational.

2009-09-09T15:30:00.000-07:00

This is an inspiration suit. Note the curved front and back panels, which to some might seem redolent of Western-styled suits. However, this apparently was not only relegated to a dressy Texan; the 1920s had such things too.

This is a Viennese suit from the 1950s/1960s:

Source: http://www.cutterandtailor.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=243&st=0

2009-09-05T23:16:00.001-07:00

Disabilities and scars can be stylish. Witness the monocle--a visual aid for only one eye--the eye-patch and things such as walking sticks.

Here Adrian Carton de Wiart models his signature eyepatch:

Christopher Ewart-Biggs who wore a tinted monocle to cover up a glass-eye due to a war injury:

Pinned down.

2009-08-28T17:19:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that neckties are already rather ornamental, they can be further accessorized with a number of other items. The thing that comes to mind most is the tie-clip; there is also the stick-pin, which was mostly used for cravats; and also, peripheral jewels such as collar-pins and the like.

However, my favorite is the safety pin. Some may be familiar with the safety pin worn in the shirt collar, but a more recondite use is to affix the necktie to the shirt with a safety pin, usually out of some precious metal.

This apparently had its origins in Britain--as does most sartorial things--and was something of a motif for the so-called Sloane Square crowd.

John O'Hara, that irrepressibly caustic Anglophile, adapted this look.

Sir Alexander Cadogan

Gene Autry.

2009-08-18T17:27:00.000-07:00

Markedly different from the last post, but still very American, is this photo of country star Gene Autry:

Gene Autry was known as the one of the best-dressed people in both country music, and Hollywood. He favored Western-styled double-breasted suits cut in the drape style. They were mostly crafted out of fine wool gabardines, twills and whipcords by custom Western tailors such as Rodeo Ben. They ranged in color from pearl gray to varying shades of blue--powder to navy--his favorite color.

His house contained more than 1,000 square feet of wardrobe space with acres of Stetson hat boxes and high-heeled boots. He never wore anything else but boots with 2 inch, very canted heels. He even got special dispensation to wear high-heeled boots when he was in the U.S. Army.

2009-08-17T23:40:00.001-07:00

Henry Ford II's contrasting pocket-handkerchief is a nice touch to his one-buttoned dark suit.

This is indeed, an example of sober dressing without looking like a Jos.A.Banks mannikin.

Earthling

2009-08-17T17:37:00.000-07:00

I rather admire David Bowie not only for his teeth, but also for his 1970s sartorial sense.

God knows he was at his thinnest at that point, coked up.

Just look at the fit of this suit.

It's Stool Pigeons....

2009-08-17T04:57:00.000-07:00

What I currently have on repeat in my Tunes that is I is The Fall's "Guest Informant" from their 1988 album, The Frenz Experiment. Not quite as satisfying an album as the powerhouse trilogy--The Wonderful and Frightening World of The Fall, This Nation's Saving Grace, Bend Sinister--that preceded it, it nonetheless has its singular moments.

I personally prefer the Live at The Channel 5/12/88 Boston version of "Guest Informant", which has Brix Smith excitedly exclaiming the lyrics during the middle portion, and a rather rousing guitar at the end. Superior, in my opinion, to the usually quite superior Peel Sessions versions.

As usual, The Fall can do no wrong. This is not for the Fall Out Boy/Gwen Stefani/Beyonce crowd.

The Frenz Experiment

Go West.

2009-08-15T21:11:00.002-07:00

Forget the baseball hat. Anybody who wears a baseball hat with a suit is an inferior being.

The Stetson Open Road is an iconic hat. It is the hat of the urbane/urban cowboy; one can also imagine a Texan banker from the '60s or '70s wearing such a thing.

A favorite of past U.S. president, Lyndon Baines Johnson, the Open Road is a sort of amalgamation of City and Ranch. It is a rather citified hat, but has unmistakable Western qualities evidenced by the thin grosgrain ribbon, relatively higher crown, cattleman's crease, and slightly curved brim. The banded brim has the traits of an homburg.

Some prefer to wear the hat like a fedora, which I am no fan of. The front pinch and snapped brim does not suit this style of hat, which is appealing because of its vaguely Western look.

It is most fetching in Silverbelly.

The Australian hat company, Akubra, also makes an Open Road style hat, rustically called the Campdraft. Stetson actually licensed Akubra to make their Open Roads at one point in time.

Note the wind-trolly, which is used to attach the hat via a cord to a man's lapel buttonhole during windy days.

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Op-Art.

2009-08-15T03:13:00.000-07:00

Don't we all need a tuxedo made out of pure moire silk as modeled here by designer Louis Feraud?

Eminently Suitable.

2009-08-14T22:03:00.001-07:00

Before the advent of Crocs, long neckties worn with tuxedos and other nefarious insidious habits, men's tailoring had what would be considered "Awards Shows" held by a governing body. I hesitate to use that term for it suggests clusters of people immodestly called celebrities and the yokels who love them.

Here are some pictures from a show held in 1961.

Benson, Perry & Whitley.

Wool is outstanding in the annual style show of the Men's Fashion Council- world leaders in men's tailoring- presented at the Beau Brummell Ball, Grosvenor House, London, on the evening of October 9, 1961. Choice for the best circles is this double-breasted town suit in dark, fancy, 17-18 oz striped wool worsted. Wide, rolled, double-breasted lapels, with two-button fastening and two display buttons. Jetted, cross pockets. Four button cuffs. Welted outer-breast pocket. Worn with a white linen waistcoat.

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Henry Poole

Single-breasted country suit in blue/green twist wool worsted of 20-21 oz. Two-button front. No centre seam at back; instead, a waist seam gives wide, comfortable back, retaining smart appearance. Four small darts at waist and three at each shoulder seam. Semi-hacking vents. Waistcoat is single breasted, lapelled, and has five buttons. Trousers have slanting pockets, no pleats, zip fly and are 16 inch with turn-ups.

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Frank Smith Woollens

Up-to-the-minute town suit in brown shadow check twist 18 oz. wool worsted. Single-breasted jacket, button two, with single-breasted lapels. Single-breasted waistcoat - trousers have turn-ups.

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J&J Minnis/James & James

One of the highlights of the collection is this double-breasted dinner suit in midnight blue, ribbed coating (12-13 oz.). The shawl collar is in contrasting black silk with laid-on cuffs and buttons to match. The waistcoat is backless with square-cornered lapel design and low opening, and the four buttons match those on the jacket.

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Hardy

Budd.

2009-08-14T03:17:00.000-07:00

Budd should be well-known amongst shirting enthusiasts and Anglophiles. Established in 1910, they are one of the few places that still retails collar-less shirts for traditional stiff collars as well as an assortment of esoteric accoutrements such as doeskin gloves.

This is a Budd formal shirt from the 1960s. Note the charming tag with the title of "Shirt Fitters". The shirt is of a very fine cotton voile--almost like linen--and the front is hand-embroidered with a discreet but luxurious design.

Embroidered fronts are a chic alternative to the rather commonplace pleating or marcellas one often comes across. However, I should imagine embroidered formal shirts are difficult to come across now given the dearth of skilled labor.

I suggest plain gold studs with this.

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Budd

1A Piccadilly Arcade
St. James's
London
SW1Y 6NH
Tel:+44 (0) 20 7493 0139

Sucking Some Butts.

2009-08-13T15:28:00.000-07:00

For those condemned to a lifetime of Menthol Lights, I hope the cancer gets you soon for that would be merciful.

For the lucky others who can diversify their tobacco consumption, here are a few choice ones that I have had the pleasure of sampling.

Today's post will only be concerned with the packaging and graphic design of these cigarettes; do stay tuned for a review of the different flavors and tastes of these fags.

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Benson & Hedges De Luxe:

Dunhill International Reds:

Botschafter Dimitrino & Co:

Chunghwa Square Box:

State Express 555 Internationals:

Chunghwa Rectangular Box:

Shepheard's Hotel:

English Ovals:

Sobranie Black Russians:

All Ruffled Up.

2009-08-13T14:20:00.000-07:00

For those adventurous enough to eschew white for black-tie, I heartily suggest Charvet's offerings of colorful ruffled formal shirts.

They are redolent of lounge lizards and other vaguely immoral activities possibly involving a cigarette holder. And for those who can't quite pull off the ruffles, but still find the lemonade and salmon tones appealing, the ruffles can be unbuttoned. Leave it up to Charvet to find a suitable solution.

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Charvet
28 Place Vendôme,
1er, Paris France
Tel: 01-42-60-30-70

God Is In The Details.

2009-08-13T01:37:00.000-07:00

There is nothing more unappealing than cheap accessories. I should like to think there is something rather immoral about accessories that positively scream "Un-profligate Spender!", or "I bought this at the Dollar Store and I'm damn proud of it!".

Leave the Swingline staplers to the children, the people in Kenneth Cole dress shirts and that obese man from Office Space. Nothing says suburban assistant bank manager's cubicle like a brushed steel business-card holder, matching quartz clock and perhaps a jazzy mouse-pad.

Rather than a Bic, why not use a fountain pen?

My tastes may run towards the Gold, but the very Teutonic Lamy 2000 from the very Teutonic firm, Lamy would be well-appreciated.

Even my stapler is gold--plated in 23kt gold according to El Casco.

El Casco is a Spanish maker of fine desk accessories. The firm started out crafting luxury pistols, but the Great Depression--that little incident--made such enterprises unprofitable and they turned to making luxury desk accessories. Frankly, I am not sure how that is more profitable, but Allah be blessed, they are still at it, gold-plated pencil sharpeners and all that is essential in Life.

Whilst we are at it, here is a fetching desk by Gio Ponti:

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El Casco:

El Casco

Lamy:

Lamy

Frame It.

2009-08-12T23:52:00.000-07:00

It has recently come to my attention that French tortoiseshell artisans, Maison Bonnet, have opened up a retail shop in Paris. Their previous homestead was a workshop.

Maison Bonnet is one of the few places in the world today that specializes in tortoiseshell goods, mainly spectacles and eyeframes.

Tortoiseshell eyeframes are celebrated and desired not only for their aesthetics, but also for hypoallergenic properties and comfortable lightness. They are, of course, also a status symbol to those who are not impressed with that altogether modest G logo on the side of your eyeframes.

Maison Bonnet

http://www.art-ecaille.com/turtle-shell-EN/frames-glasses-manufacture.htm

How To Get Out Of Cars.

2009-08-12T23:21:00.001-07:00

Forget the bus and other forms of genital transport.

To make a proper entrance is to emerge from the rear of some land-yacht, with a valet or doorman holding the door open.

The only other acceptable method is to drive one's own convertible or coupe, and look insouciant whilst doing it. Perhaps with top down?

Here the Duke of Windsor shows how it is done:

Sunny von Bulow does it well from her '70s Mercedes S-Class:

Anonymous Socialte getting out of her Rolls Royce in Beverly Hills, circa 1973:

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Here are some acceptable cars from which one can emerge from; no Toyota Camrys, SUVs, Hybrids or nonsense of that ilk.

Lincoln Continental Mark III:

1970 Cadillac Fleetwood Series 75:

Rolls Royce Camargue:

Aston Martin Lagonda:

The Mercedes-Benz Grosser 600:

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The Ultimate Vehicle would be something like late Gabonese President Omar Bongo's Stutz Royale:

Reckless Abandon.

2009-08-11T20:38:00.001-07:00

Abandoned 1960s Pod village in Taiwan--originally constructed for wealthy urbanites.

The Bokor Palace Hotel & Casino, which was a French luxury resort in Cambodia, then part of French Indochina.

There is also a villa for the old Cambodian Royal Family hidden somewhere behind the jungle.

Mansion built for an Egyptian prince in Cairo.