Pulling up in his boss’ off-white, beat-to-hell Range Rover (Seriously, the driver’s side front door opened with a coat hanger, and the car’s ignition is started by paper clip), I knew Ian Leach, buyer and shopkeep for Nashville’s Imogene + Willie, was good people. Having recently spent some time with him, I can tell you that he’s incredibly well-versed in the classics, and if his ornery, vintage American Optical prescription safety glasses are any indication, he has a deep appreciation for old, good things. Sounds like he learned from a master. Expect great things to come from this young man. In the meantime, check the I+W blog for Ian’s updates as to his whereabouts and current sartorial hang-ups.
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I can always tell when the younger half of the brain trust that is Billykirk, Kirk Bray, is coming my way. His long gait, his signature frames, and his smile, wide as Tennessee, bound towards me, always ready with a firm handshake and a story that will have me on the floor. Kirk is the type of guy who can’t help but endear himself to everyone he meets. With the lessons gleaned from his mother, he could open a charm school.
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His ten engines always revving, this fantastic Fox brings the heat like no one can. The only word to describe him is inimitable. I’ve said it before, but his is the most impressive display of personal style. He can’t help it. Always original. Always a wild animal. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. James Fox.
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Iron City. Those words. That accent. In college, I took care of this couple’s lawn while they were visiting family in Pittsburgh. She was from there. “You wann us to bring ya some Iron City Beer?” I’d never heard of it. It sounded so tough, so gritty, so much more of-the-earth than my commonplace hometown Bud. It wasn’t. However, when she brought me back a six pack, I thought it was glorious. “Tastes like the sweat of Terry Bradshaw,” her husband chortled as we clinked long necks on their back patio.
I’d never been. I’d always wanted to go. So, I did. And what I discovered was a beautiful, cold, hard-nosed town, with great-looking bridges, hearty food, and some of the world’s finest architecture.
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The Denim Debate, the brainchild of my good friend Ryan Plett, acts as record and review of nearly two dozen pairs of raw denim from cult labels. For the uninitiated, the site will educate on the ever-growing phenomenon that is selvage denim. Ryan’s accumulated a group of friends to discuss their thoughts for one year as they break in a pair of premium selvage denim.
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My Dad. Early 1970s. Colorado. His yellow Chevy Nova and matching tent.
Jeremy Kirkland asked me to write about the wear and tear of something in my closet for his blog, Start With Typewriters. After my Swiss Army Knife, the most storied thing I own is my dad’s jean jacket. I hope you enjoy the post. Thank you, Jeremy, for the chance to contribute.
At 1220 West Van Buren Street in Chicago’s West Loop, there stands a seven storey brick and glass factory building which has been home to America’s masters of tailoring, Oxxford Clothes since 1948.
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While I’m late in discovering these photos from David Robert Elliot, they are so wonderful, I just had to share. I’ve never seen photos for a store that better demonstrate its aesthetic. The look book for Penelope’s which depicts a romantic weekend away, might as well be a glimpse into the lives of shop owners Joe and Jena. While they are not the couple depicted, I can completely picture them dropping their baby off at Grandma’s, and heading to the lake for a rekindling, a rendevous, a much needed recharge.
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Apple’s iPad ships this Saturday. My friend, Temple Bags‘ Steve Opperman and his cohorts there, designed a case for it. It will be available on their site Friday.
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Mister Mort, Mordechai Rubinstein’s online handle, has become my font of street style inspiration The Sartorialist once was. While the quality and content of Mr. Schuman’s photos continue to impress me, and while I still look to The Sartorialist for inspiration, at some point, his photos’ focus shifted from the general to the specific. As he’s granted access to fashion show after fashion show, it’s understandable how his eye could become trained on industry insiders instead of the old men of Harlem and hipster girls on bicycles I so looked forward to seeing each time I checked his blog. Whereas, with Mort it’s a veritable grab bag of the inside and outside, not only of the world of fashion, but of the actual garments themselves. I love his eye for detail, and I appreciate his desire to self-educate whenever possible.
Lately, I’ve been taken with three of his photos of my favorite tartan, the “government tartan,” Black Watch. The one above came from a trip to London which he took in the latter half of 2009.
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