… and now we’re open - The Armoury NYC, 168 Duane St
Lately troubles have mounted, some real, others imagined.
But for each, I plan, think and wonder; and each time I see the bottom.
Picture your most empty fantasy. A wet stone well, with only you in it.
An open field at midnight,with no sign of light.
A car, heading no where.
This is where I end up, the place with no fuel,and a list of destinations to be visited.
During those times, symbols give me strength.
I remember the cuffs of iron and blood around my ankles;
not withholding but securing, with me constantly in the face of winds.
So I adjust my chains and I clench my fists,
poised in readiness, and attack the monster in front of me.
Lifted, pushed by a source of light that comes from within me but represents another.
You’ve always played a bigger game than you’ve let on. Had your hand in things when you wished it weren’t.
Until I found you out, but still the shuffle you created left a mess.
So with that mess cleaned up, let’s continue. And I say let’s because i can’t do this without you.
Stop. Whatever it is you’re doing.
Stop tweeting. Stop reading. Stop thinking about something other than what’s in front of you.
Stay on the phone for longer than needed.
Take my hand.
Hold me for longer than you feel comfortable until your discomfort fades away. Years if need be.
Kiss me for no reason.
Just look me in the eyes in silence if all else fails.
Because I have seen into your eyes, when you hold the gaze long enough.
I see purity. But I also see pain. Or maybe it’s a reflection of my own.
Either way we can heal in the time spent together.
I have listened to too many stories of unfulfilled parental relationships.
I’m not willing to let you go so easily.
So embrace me, so I can feel the strength and wisdom you have.
That we, together, can create more than we could apart. That’s love.
With that love, I’ll carry on. The monsters will fade. And I can show another how to love.
Like your mother and father did for you, let me be your steward, your beacon.
Let me show everyone how great I am, by showing them how great you are.
What good are you suits, if you don’t wear them?
What good is your body, if you don’t maintain it?
What good are your morals, if you don’t uphold them?
What good is your self, if you don’t know it?
What good is your craft, if you don’t expand it?
What good are the rules, if you don’t break them?
Black Braided Tassels
There is something I love about a black loafer for winter, for grey cashmere socks and flannel trousers, for a charcoal tweed jacket and white jeans, for black cords and an oatmeal cashmere cable knit.
There is something slightly preppy, but also slightly finger snapping and cool about black loafers. With dark selvedge denim and white button down.
There is something I really love about winter.
Rio de Janeiro, 1941.
The Walt that you didn’t know.
too cool not to share
Tweed suit by Brooks Brothers.
The 748 Cap Toe Derby in Cognac Cordovan
Carmina for The Armoury
the perfect looking blutcher, in a just right shade of brown
The blue butcher striped shirt, pictured here in its Liverano guise, is one of those rare things that may actually be even more versatile than a white shirt. Whereas white can be quite stark and formal, the blue butcher stripe in a very pale tone works in both very casual, fun combinations and in more serious contexts as well.
As for those who guessed the crests and motifs in yesterday’s post correctly, I award thee with 1 bonus point. If you collect “several” bonus points, you could win a “prize”.
Some madras inspiration
The Couturier Crowd 4.
Yves Saint Laurent, 1959.
The No Lapel Suit.
Elvis, with Ann-Margret.
check the expressions, that’s live