I’ve wanted a pair of rain boots for while and this past fall, it finally clicked: Wellingtons.
I know Wellies are an England dig (Seth’s edit: Yeah, and what exactly is wrong with that?!), but I was tired of slopping around in a pair that I picked up from the thrift store that were too big, too clunky and didn’t mesh well with my slim-cut jeans. Nordstrom and Halls weren’t picking up Wellies this past fall/winter season because “it’s not for the target market in the Midwest.” Lame. File under: Reasons why I dislike the Midwest.
eBay anyone? $30 bucks sound okay? Sounds good. SOUNDS GREAT.
I pulled the trigger on a pair for 30 bones and have been a happy camper ever since. The backpack was a great find in high school (yes, five years ago) for $3.
The belt I picked up at Urban Outfitters this past winter for $4.99. It’s also 100 percent real leather. Urban. Come on, you’re killing me. Just when I threw you on my shit list for “this place is trashed, literally” and “I can’t find anything that fits me…” you go and surprise me with a real leather belt that matches my Baldwins. Thanks, guy.
Matching natural leather belt with the natural leather from the Baldwins, huh?
You know I love that pop of color/flannel.
I know Cam got that badass Steven Alan Parka, and well, I’d like to think he got the itch from me. Flannel lined, kinda cool. Picked it up for $5 and it surprisingly fits very well for being made in Taiwan and from a brand I’ve never heard of called “Repage.”
Wellington rainboots (eBay, $30) by Hunter, size 10UK; grey Burkee slim-fit sweatshirt (retail, $62) by Jack Spade, extra-small; “The Henley” 14-ounce dry selvedge (Standard Style Boutique, $198) by Baldwin Denim, size 28; backpack (thrifted, $5); natural leather belt (retail, $4.99) by Urban Outfitters; blue parka with flannel lining (thrifted, $5) by Repage, size “perfect for me.”
For most of us, it doesn’t make much financial sense to have our clothes hand-made by a tailor. It’s one of the regrettable facts of modern life.
Enter Gay Talese, one of the most skilled journalists of our time. (A lot of people think that his story about Frank Sinatra for Esquire was the best profile ever written.) Talese’s dad was a tailor, so he’s used to having custom-made clothes since…forever. Now, he gets his clothes made in Paris by the son of the guy that taught his father. (Gahhh—if only. Who does Talese think he is?)
Of course, Talese is hardly Midwestern, but Katie Roiphe’s interview with him in the Paris Review touches briefly on his style philosophy. The article is about lot of things—most of which are far more important than style—but here’s something to get you thinking:
“He is so beautifully dressed that strangers will talk to him in the street, that waiters and hostesses in restaurants will want to do things for him, like find a special place to put his hat. Talese’s father was a tailor, his mother ran a successful dress shop, and he says his first idea of how to be special was through clothing.”
Then there’s his post on Gilt MANual about how to throw some elbow patches and cuff-work on an old jacket to spice things up.
I mean, c’mon!! Not only is guy decking out in bespoke clothes, he has a sport coat that he doesn’t think is nice enough to wear to lunch. AND he’s updating them every 30, 40 years to make sure nobody else is wearing what he is. What a guy.
Our advice to you? Get yourself to the thrift store, pick up a wool jacket that fits you like a glove, then take it to the tailor and embellish the hell out of that thing.
To read more of Talese’s philosophy on tailoring, check out Gilt MANual by clicking on the photo:
ABOUT THIS LOOK: I’ve liked the idea of mixing vintage items, Americana goods and designer apparel. Plus, I really wanted to type out “Marc by Marc Jacobs” and “Pendleton” in the same blog post. I wanted to create a faded and dusty look for the field. Warm colors, like the 1901 camel colored shoes and MBMJ warm mauve undershirt, were already being drawn out from the Pendleton shirt.
This leather bomber jacket is one of my favorite pieces that I own. I’m always scared for some reason to pair it with dress shoes and think I need to wear it with boots of some sort. However, I’ve been rocking it with my bucks, wallabees and even Sperrys a few times. Why not, eh?
ABOUT THIS LOCATION: I grew up flying kites in this field. It’s at the bottom of my street from my childhood home. Besides, dodging cow shit as we ran unto the ends of the earth (or so it seemed), I loved looking down the hill—the hill that I hated to bike up so much. But I became so thankful for where I grew up. I didn’t have to stare off into an endless suburban wasteland of cookie cutter houses nor at any brick apartments outside my window. The cows down the street in the field, the airport farther up the road a couple of miles and a general store up the street near my elementary school.
Bomber jacket (thrifted, $6) by “Made in Ecuador 100% Leather”, size 38; wool button-down (thrifted, $6) by Pendleton, medium; “Rat” long-sleeve mauve T-shirt (retail, $9) by Marc by Marc Jacobs, medium; “The Henley” 11.5-ounce dry selvedge denim (retail $198) by Baldwin, size 30; 1901 camel suede bucks (retail, $44) by Nordstrom, size 11; Camper Watch(retail, $18) by Timex; braided leather belt (thrifted, $1).
Photos by Jarred Donalson.
Nothing new, but still hilarious…and moreso thanks to this snazzy video made by the good folk over at Put This On. LBJ orders pants, stressing that he needs about an inch let out in the crotch (“you know, where your nuts hang”) because they cut him—”like riding a wire fence.”
This was a time when men understood fit.
On my way home from getting a haircut last week, I happened upon the Village Discount Outlet—which was almost a warehouse. (Or should it be wearhouse?) It was packed, both with clothes and with scarf-covered women cramming their shopping carts full of stuff.
The sizes run big for a little guy like me, but after significant rooting I snagged these incredible wool/alpaca slacks that fit perfectly.
Yeah, they’re pleated. I’m okay with that.
A couple of drawbacks: There aren’t any dressing rooms, which isn’t the worst problem; as long as you’re wearing a T-shirt, you can throw other shirts over it. Pants—that’s another story. I did figure out a way to try them on, but it was tricky and I don’t really want to talk about it.
The place isn’t curated well, but that means prices are dirt cheap. Saw a decent trench coat for 90 cents. And I walked away with a slim-fit Italian dress shirt for $6 that’ll make a perfect gift for the brother.
And these pants? $4. Believe it. Inspect carefully, though. When I got home I found a worn hole in the seat, which will mean a trip to the tailor.
But at 4 bones? You gotta dig, but that’s hard to beat.