Thursday, May 19, 2005

UNDER THE WEATHER...aaarrrgh!

It's spring and there's nothing worse than being under the weather when it's beautiful outside. It really SUCKS! I spent Wednesday pretty much under the radar; placed some orders and had some soup and pretty much slept in on a rare night off. I have a lot of stuff to take care of today so I figured getting my rest was the order of the day.

So while there isn't much to report back at the ranch, I, of course, never fail to bring you entertainment (whether it's good entertainment, that's another story). By now, you all know of my obsession with anything that I deem FAUX fashion (Striped Shirts, pastel gators, etc.); Here's an article from one of my correspondants which tackles one of my obsessions head on. Enjoy and remember, don't shoot the messenger...

"Hello Dahling. They Call Me Thad." by Matthew L. McCoy

Springtime is well underway again and already this dreadful look has reared its ugly head. On more than a few occasions actually. What's my typical reaction when it does? Complete and utter horror. A traffic stopping scream of terror. Followed by temporary paralysis.

WASPs never cease to amaze me. No, I'm not referring to the popped collar look, nor am I referring to ribbon belts. They fall into the cocky-prep category and are, as a result, perfectly acceptable.

Instead, I'm referring to the sweater tied around the shoulders look. I could outlast a filibuster pontificating on why it's so revolting. Old-school filibusters too. Not the ones these modern day pussy Senators and self-proclaimed martyrs who'll rant for only a few hours are leading.

I've already accepted that the preppy movement has been franchised and evolved well beyond mainstream into what can only be described as infinitely omnipresent. It reached a crescendo for me personally when I saw Fitty Cent donning the signature Burberry plaid.

Even njguido.com, the bastion of steroids and halogen tanning, known for its vast photo collection of men in Northern Jersey meat popsicle clubs wearing either wife-beaters or no shirts at all, has seen more than a few "Joey's" lurking in the background sporting pink polos with the collar popped. This was the last frontier, and it's a crushing defeat for preppies everywhere.

As a result, for this spring and summer season I've sealed all my pastels in a time capsule and buried them in the backyard until 2015; about the time I presume the preppy fad will be out of favor, and thus acceptable to dig up and wear again. These days I pretty much rock a hoodie and matching sweatpants. I'm waiting this thing out baby.

Getting back to the sweater tied around the shoulders look, one can very easily make assumptions about a man who proudly does such a thing. If your assumptions are included in the list below, then rest easy, you're not judgmental. Instead, I'd argue you're quite the contrary. Some might even go so far to say that you're as extraordinarily perceptive as I am.

So, what does this look say about the man wearing it? In trying to answer that question I've come up with a Baskin Robbins-sized list of explanations. Try these thirty-one flavors on for size:

1. He's European. No, not gay, European. There's a slight difference.

2. His dad is a participating member in an equine ownership syndicate.

3. He went to or "is boys" with someone who attended Deerfield, Hotchkiss, Andover, the Hill School or Blair Academy. (Proceed immediately to the pinky ring for verification.)

4. Adores his Nantucket Reds. Not JCrew's version of course. Wouldn't be caught dead in those impostors.

5. His buddy knows a guy who dated the Assistant to the Director of Marketing for Vineyard Vines.

6. Owns a sailing bag with some obscure regatta stitched into the side.

7. He LOVES to drink Southsides; froth and all.

8. When signing his credit card bill he oft initials his family's country club member number out of absentminded habit.

9. Met his girlfriend at a polo match in the Hampton's. East or Southampton of course.

10. First name Townsend, middle name Radford, brother's first name Underhill, brother's middle name Hampton, Dad's named Landon.

11. He owns a monogrammed, sterling silver belt from Tiffany's.

12. He's been to a "white party."

13. Celebrates the anniversary of Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations.

14. Wears seersucker and snuggles up with Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises when he's sullen.

Don't leave home without 'em.
15. Can't wait to turn thirty-five so he can start wearing bow ties again.

16. Has never used product in his hair, EVER. It genetically falls that way.

17. Wants to be buried in the infield at Saratoga with his third wife, Tyler.

18. Has an arms race of Cold War proportions in his bedroom between Gucci and/or Tod loafers and argyle socks.

19. Can trace his family lineage back to Charlemagne, the Duke, or even the King of England.

20. Doesn't have a Dad but instead, a FAAthah.

21. When that sweater around his shoulders is actually worn, silk knot cuff links peek themselves out of its sleeves.

22. Perspiration is frowned upon, but his choir membership is the "tops."

23. He longs for the day he can brag to "chums" about his numerous reoccurrences of the gout.

24. He's so tired of his crested blazer. But rotating its accompanying pocket square gets him by.

25. Feels the Summer Associate members of his club, or its many reciprocals, are barely on par with its staff.

26. Can't seem to find any social occasion where a belt bearing the logo of said clubs - ideally worn mixed and matched - is inappropriate.

27. His weekend retreats are only worth mentioning if they were facilitated by somebody's G5. Extensive knowledge of private aircraft is big.

28. Takes time off in the summer to sail in the Nantucket regatta.

29. His parents are NEVER around because they're either somewhere exclusive, like skiing in Switzerland, or obscure, like fishing in Russia.

30. He's never thought it strange to layer on more than three golf shirts underneath a button-down oxford beneath two vests simultaneously.

31. He uses "summer" as a verb. For example, "I summer in Newport."

...and FINALLY, with sprinkles on top, yes, this pig who wears sweaters tied around his shoulders has been occasionally known to say:

"I could buy you."

Well it's about time you upgraded to the G-5. Pauper.
It's douche bags such as these who keep the hammer loop on jeans in style. (It is still in style, right?) Or at the very least, keep me wearing them. Why? Because when I see them, I unsheathe my tack hammer from said jean holster faster than Sharon Stone in The Quick and the Dead and fucking rap him across his patellas until his screams for "FAAthah" are so loud my eardrums begin to hemorrhage.

That is all I have to say about that.

Godspeed.

NUFF SAID