Last edited by Tomasso (2010-04-30 00:40:37)
I can't be bothered to look right now (drunk), but if I recall correctly, a couple of years ago the inestimable Mr. Grayson started a thread in which he more or less despaired of the effort of dressing well, given the overwhelming number of slobs, dipshits, half-wits, clowns, fools, dorks, trads, drape-obsessed-basket-cases, dumbfucks, weirdos, douche-bags, knuckleheads, shit-brains, loons, ignoramuses, downmarket cretins, costumiers, clods, and all-around asshats who seem to populate our cities and countrysides, and who gravitate to the clothing for(a)ums and make one despair of life and its sweetness. I unwisely dismissed Grayson's hard-won opinions at the time, but I'm coming around to his bleak, if uncompromising, viewpoint. Where are my sweats and hoodie?
Hello i am new to this i would say that Maybe Patrick Bateman will make a return to help kick it off.
Think like a man of action, and act like a man of thought.
http://www.askandyaboutclothes.com/forum/showthread.php?62656-What-Are-You-Wearing-Today&p=1094460#post1094460
Academic gown queen and Malaysian ukelele virtuoso CardCapChuck (who wears nothing ever seen in a store since 1919 and who traveled to London to commission his completely unnecessary waistcoat liner) says finding a collar that fits would involve a "miniquest"...
http://www.askandyaboutclothes.com/forum/showthread.php?62656-What-Are-You-Wearing-Today&p=1094411#post1094411
He's back! Indy travels to the wilds of Alaska to hunt down the degenerate who drugged and teabagged him and stole his bullwhip in NYC. Don't miss "Cap'n Fridge and the Kingdom of Palin" opening nationwide May 6.
Last edited by Popeye Doyle (2010-04-30 07:00:12)
JohnL- I'll have to review my references. My point simply is that young, often mere boys have dressed in now costumed kit, handled massive tools of war from a Webley Mk VI to a Lanc and were not homoerotic. Modern 'boys' need to put away the pith helmets and be MEN, even in a world society hell bent on mass emasculation via slobwear and Pink floyd 'lives of quiet desperation.'
Tony- are you UK? Within walking distance of my Apt is THE HARE AND THE HOUNDS a delightfull brit import shoppe and just beyond a brit pub called Sterlings.
Gilly Selleck was there one morning buying chocolate digestives and a small sack of wine gums. She popped one in my mouth to seal a deal on my sorting out a new carriage.
Sterlings has a HUGE obligatory painting of a MKII1 Spitfire, a portrait of the queen EVERYBODY toasts ( even this irish american,what the hell) and a bartender with the half forgotten and pre punk shaved with just whips of bangs, neck hair and sideburns hairstyle. She is a lovely cockney and carries it off well.
We have a nice expat colony here enjoying vintage brit cars, actually owning old SMLE's and getting into restrained debates over Tony Brown while smoking dunhill pipes and wearing interesting clothes while cheering Manchester United.
Such is the crazy melting pot called California.
In anycase, I can send the winegums, but that would be carrying coals to Newcastle,what?
Last edited by ckav (2010-04-30 10:02:12)
Tony, Actually I missed your view on firearms. It's a curious phenomenon as Jan may confirm. Our gun pundits and readers are in a perpetual angst over british laws regarding weapons. I think it is our shared history and mother tongue. One would think it's almost a family secret, some genetic fault that might get passed on or something. We then laud the swiss as heroic William Tell's as if that nation is not without fault or changing social issues.
Personally, My ideal is a society where people have the right to bear arms, but also those who choose not to are insured their freedom and safety. But there are other forums for this topic. I'm here to talk clothing.
Funny how life brings interests and experiences together. As a young boy my grandfather worked with 'Sabu' building custom homes after WW2 in the San Fernando Valley. He drove out to my now home to the old Jungleland Park, then a source for movie animals. They had a elephant needing help and Sabu graciously ( he was a neat human being) took all the kids and made a day of it. I watched everything he did.
Years later I'm at the ranch and all the horses are in a frenzy, the mexicans HIDING
and this unmistakable noise coming from the recently abandoned Hare Krishna Ashram next door.
The SOBs had abandoned a asian elephant they bought from a small circus when the competing gurus each ran off to Arkansas and Texas with money and a few girl devotees.
So I grab bales of hay and spent a no small sum on melons from a mexican roadside truck vendor passing by. I remembered Sabu's methods and managed to get the elephant back in it's pen, feed the hungry animal and water it. I called Animal Control and she went north to a elephant sanctuary.
Years later I visited with my then main squeeze, a tall bunette Ali McGraw type. She said I was lying about the elephant. We stopped by and within seconds a loud trumpeting began, one trotted over and gave me more affection than any other woman has before or since. They truly do not forget.
Meanwhile, I'm collecting african hunting rifles and my then nicaraugan sister in law demands to know why I need a elephant gun ( my .416 Rigby)in California. I explained the elephants were cacheing food on the roof and keeping me awake at night,so I kept it to fire warning shots. When she stopped swearing in spanish I produced my 6.5 Mm and explained it was what the greatest killer of elephants of all time, a englishman named Bell used. she swore even more, calling me a liar, no tiny bullet like that could murder an elephant.Barrio bred latinas know these things.
Grosgrain, It's like this: One has to know what one is talking about by actually doing it, even rudimentary. Now, I have no desire to truly understand my gay friend's physical preferences, so it's a matter of mutual tolernace. But I've drunk beer with Hells Angels, talked theology with rebis and buddhist monks and harvested strawberries with Mixtec Indians in Oxnard. My one remaining rifle has a spider egg sack in the barrel where it sits in the dark unseen. Hell, someday I might even talk clothing with Charles ( I've met his mom at the Royal Windsor Horse Show) and not come off as a total fool.
Last edited by ckav (2010-04-30 12:22:09)
Last edited by Big Tony (2010-04-30 12:31:09)
Last edited by Big Tony (2010-04-30 13:02:29)
Not necessary Quay, the word was "funny", not flawed, or "I don't like the result." You've purposely quoted RS and then disregarded the actual meaning to fit in with your own paradigm of I'm a smart arse, and yet I might be pissed. The actual position was that progress is slow, because of idleness in the technicians, a common problem, that a kick in the arse can cure.
If you have to drink on the position of whether you are a Trad or not, then you are truly lost.
Let me ask you this one question, what music do you like? Trads cannot answer this question easily, it causes them a great threat.
Last edited by 4F Hepcat (2010-04-30 14:34:51)