My dad has been doing some diggin’ around the ol’ house lately and stumbled across some family slides (yes SLIDES) from the 1940’s. He emails them to me almost everyday, and the most recent few, were just so good, I had to share. Particularly for a person whom I hold very near and dear to my heart - my grandfather.
My grandfather was a true gentleman. I say ‘was’ because he’s been gone quite a few years now. ‘True’ not just in fashion, but also in practice. He educated himself with newspapers, ledgers and leisurely reading. Always shook a gentleman’s hand. Always kept his physique in check. Always made sure his family was well-spoken and well-traveled. Always had a cocktail ready for his guests. And even until he was 93, always stood up when a lady walked into the room.
Your style is often defined by what makes you most comfortable, and he was quite comfortable in a suit. Winston Churchill was his icon of choice, and the Wall Street Journal, his Vogue. Every day deserved a button up, pressed pants, and a proper tie. Every highball - a sweater vest. Every family outting- a 3 piece. Even rain was somethin’ special - Khaki London Fog number, complete with black wooden handled umbrella. And the fedora….ah the fedora…..can never go anywhere without that little gem.
I haven’t seen too many suits walkin’ the Swedish streets lately (or in any country for that matter), but I will give the men here props that they keep themselves finely tailored and together. The Swedish ladies may not appreciate it, but this American lass surely does.
Happy Stylin’ Saturday everyone!
Da Matteo, Vallgatan - where’s The Sartorialist when you need him…
p.s - Thanks to Genny for being quite the fashionista and letting a random American chick take your photo for her blog.
It occurred to me yesterday that I haven’t lifted a camera, aside from my phone, since I returned from France. No one to blame really, guess it was just time to live a bit and put the camera down. Thank god for talented friends whose postings I can ‘borrow’ and publish to keep the followers following. Enter my dearest Britbrat friend, foodie, and photographer, Sir Jonathan Brown.
Just can’t get enough of JB online. I say that because I barely see him. He’s always puddlejumping to London, or presenting in Spain, or roaming some corner of Sweden even the Swedes haven’t heard of, documenting Scandanavian life whilst learning how to poach salmon in a bathtub. He’s always armed with great stories of adventures and his words are so delish, they would make a vegetarian befriend a BLT.
Read, follow, and be inspired by him. And if he’s in your neck of the woods, invite him over for dinner. If you’re lucky, maybe he’ll show you how to cook Muscle Soup in your coffee machine.
"Sometimes, don’t go as far as you can go. Stay well within yourself"
on the best advice he was ever given - Inside the Actor’s Studio
As I sit here packing for my return to Swedeland, NY1 is keeping me up to date on the Northeast Coastal Snow Storm that decided to make an appearance today. Apparently, Bloomberg got some major shit for his poor handling of the real storm that hit on Christmas, so he’s more than making up for it this time around. Comicly, there’s nothing to do because the flakes are melting before they hit the ground, but good to know I can track the GPS snow plows on my iPhone. That’ll be real handy in Europe.
I had had enough of overkill and was about to flip the switch, when suddenly I heard the word “Kanelbulle”….
The Swedish Church of New York is shakin’ and bakin’ up these cinnamon goodies for the New Year. I smiled as a New Yorker from Svierge, sprinkled and spread the sugary love in the Midtown Swedish Cafe (5 East 48th Street ). She took her moment in the spotlight to explain the Swedish custom of ‘fika’ and how for just 2 bucks a pop, you too could start this yummy tradition with your friends. My favorite quote of the piece, which is all too true - “without Swedish buns you can’t have coffee break. and without coffee break you can’t be Swedish.”
I don’t miss Kanelbulle, but after 2.5 weeks on the road, I do miss the Swedes. And as I sit here on 78th & 2nd packing this damn suitcase for the zillionth time, lets just hope that Bloomberg can get me back to them.
Gotta run. Have a plane to catch…..hopefully.
Happy 2011 everyone. This wheatgrass shot is for you!