Wednesday, August 09, 2017

Why the layout of this blog is farked.

Epochs ago, I popped $50 for "Lunastone" to custom design for me a blog template. All was well. However, some of the images that made up the borders, etc. were being hosted by Photobucket. One day, PB decided that they were not going to do this for free any longer, and did some coding voodoo that RIDDLED this blog with the image "THIS IMAGE NOT AVAILABLE ERROR 500" from one pixel to the last. After much digging, I discovered it was the tiny little "border" JPGs that were the offending article and, rather than pay PB so much as Cent One, I yanked 'em out. So, while I figure out how to fix this, please pardon my cyber dust. The Management

Posted by JMG at 7:08 AM 0 comments

Monday, July 10, 2017

Cheating is encouraged?

You'll be pleased to know that my professional wardrobe is leavened with fraud.

Those who see me arrayed in said finery will say to themselves "My, Uncle Joe surely is wearing one of his stellar bespokes as he toils ceaselessly in the engine-room of capitalism." This, incidentally, is precisely the impression I wish to convey.
However, that impression is more often than not, incorrect. I cheat.

"How" I hear you moaning and whinging "could one possibly cheat in terms of one's wardrobe?" Very easily. You see, the vast majority of the time, captains of high finance such as I are not swanning about in a full suit; jacket, shirt, tie, trousers, etc. If you notice carefully, most of the time we, at the Plutocratic Guild, are jacketless. What does this mean? It means that if one only dons the jacket upon emerging from one's vehicle only to doff it the picosecond one approaches one's desk and only dons it again to exit the office and walk to one's vehicle whereupon it is doffed one last time, then the majority of the time you needn't bother with a jacket.

So, if you needn't bother with a jacket X% of the time, you needn't clutter up your wardrobe with excess suitings. You can make do pretty nicely with 3-4 stellar suits, instead of the usual 10 (1-a-day x 2 weeks) suits of "merely-decent" quality.

So what do these faux-suited titans such as I do?

We buy trousers of unimpeachable quality in suiting-like fabrics, and wear them as if we had a suit and took off the jacket. Not too long ago, at a certain outpost of Mr. Lauren's, I managed to score EIGHT suiting-like trousers for an absolute pittance. Navy pinstripes, glen plaids, grey herringbones, charcoal houndstooths, etc. all for absurdly low sums. The tailoring is stellar and suit-like, with forward pleats, onseam pockets, suspender/brace buttons and the like. Even better these are cotton, so they stay cool and because I have them dry-cleaned instead of laundered, they stay looking sharp and wool-suit-like.

Your Uncle Joe is a very, very clevah lad.


Posted by JMG at 4:52 PM 0 comments

Monday, June 05, 2017

Automotive cheapskateness, part 2

It is an article of faith with me that being civilized is, to a colossal extent, independent budgetary constraints. Granted, being of generous means does afford some latitude, but that can be greatly mitigated by intelligence, judiciousness, and fanatical research. Let's once again take an example of this principle from the automotive category. Here, on the outer fringes of paradise, the sweet-spot car is a BMW convertible. It's got four seats, a very snug and climate-proof top, "cachet" (crucial, 'round these parts, FWIW), driving pleasure and performance, style to burn, decent economy and so forth. But what if your wallet cannot be stretched to accommodate the price of admission of the above? I bring you the Saab Viggen Convertible.
Made from 1999-2002, with the aid of British racing legend Tom Walkinshaw, the Viggen is one of those hidden gems that punches wa-a-a-a-a-y above its weight, and has collectability on its side in a way BMW (save for some M3 drop-tops) convertibles can only dream of; especially now that Saab seems to be slowly emerging from "administration" (the Swedish equivalent to bankruptcy).

 0-60 in 6.something seconds, top speed of 155mph, 30+mpg, ridiculously low prices ("Saab? Who makes that?") and the legendary safety* and durability of Saabs.
There are some caveats, as usual. The legendary durability of Saabs means that while you can drive the car eleventy squillion miles, almost all of the cars you'll find for sale will have eleventy squillion miles. Also there are some minor issues with torque steer (addressed by buying the "Viggen rescue kit" which even a complete mechanical nitwit like me can install) and sludge buildup which is also easily addressed by making sure the car you are buying also has the "PCV update" or installing it.

And it's only available with a manual transmission, so the delicate needn't apply. The leather tends to suffer if neglected, especially the driver's side bolster and armrest. Furthermore, because of the unique-to-Saab engine system design, these cars are VERY tunable, and $299 will give you more than enough power to give concern to your typical Bimmer jockey. (For an additional $1000, you can give him neurasthenia.) So, basically, for +/- $12,000 including improvements, you can have a gorgeous, fast, stylish, reliable**, safe, unique and delightful a quarter of the price of a BMW or Audi.


 * I have no greater compliment than this for Saab safety: With a plethora of choices available to me, I bought my own 16 year old son a Saab as his first car.
** This assumes proper maintenance. Sprint, don't walk, away from any car without a full service history.

Posted by JMG at 7:16 AM 0 comments

Monday, May 29, 2017


[I'll be adding links as my schedule permits.]

Many epochs ago, when the world was young, and I still had to schlep through the hoops capriciously laid out by Human Resources-types, I ran across something called the MBTI.

It's supposed to predict (or at least give a good indication) how someone will work out at a given position. I'm not especially convinced it'll do THAT, but I find it quite useful (in a sorta Cliffs Notes way) to understanding people.


Those among the assembled who know me well will not be remotely surprised that in the MBTI universe, I come out as an INTJ. You can Google a ton of stuff about this, but the main focus of this evening's symposium is how INTJness is manifested in what I do, think, etc.

MBTI types don't all move in lockstep and there are variations in attitude and behaviors depending on life experiences, circumstances, family/romantic/work dynamics, etc. Just like not all guys who wear a 40 Regular will have an identical physique, not all INTPs or ESFJs will behave identically all of the time. These are (literally) "types" that you may better understand the person in front of you, once you have gotten to know individual traits and quirks and all that.

So, here are some things about me-as-an-INTJ to keep in mind.

In general, I pay attention to the "patterns" I see in the information I take in. In my head there is a LOT (actually, a near-constant barrage) of "This new thing is very similar to that previous thing in Aspects X, Y, and Z, and a lot like that other previous thing in Aspects A, B, and C." Then I can put said new thing in the most appropriate mental drawer and file it away.

In a way, I'm always looking for the meaning behind information, beyond just the plain facts. I enjoy learning new things and pondering what might be done with this knowledge, so I think more about the future (what can I come up with?) than the past, which is really more of a parts bin for the future.

I'm happy with analogies, symbols and abstract thinking, even before I know how I'll use the information conveyed thereby. Remember, I'm just putting away mental parts in the right drawer.

- I remember what I read “between the lines” about a thing.
- I solve problems by going between different ideas and possibilities, in other words, going through all of those parts-bin drawers and testing each part for fit in a new something that is meant to fix whatever I'm working on.
- I am interested in working on things that are new or different or both.
- I like to see the big picture first, then to derive facts therefrom.
- I trust my impressions more than what I actually experienced, always keeping in mind what is an impression and that my experience of something may be colored by myriad factors.

What the MBTI types call "Introverted Intuition" is the main lens through which I view the world. This is always working in the background of my mind, noticing patterns and analyzing them. This often results in “eureka!” episodes, wherein ideas materialize in my mind seemingly out of nowhere. 

I’ve had tons of “eureka!” moments. While doing something dull and workaday, a solution to a seemingly intractable problem (from a client issue, to a storyline thing on which I've been stuck forever) will suddenly, like Aphrodite from the foam of the Aegean, rise before me. So much so it seems almost magical.

This means I know things without really knowing how or why.

Dr. A.J. Drenth of Personality Junkie explains (all emphasis mine):
“What seems to be occurring is that many IN_Js have a highly sensitive inferior function, Extraverted Sensation (Se), which gathers copious amounts of sensory information from the outside world, including subtleties that other personality types tend to miss. Their [Introverted Intuition (Ni)] then subconsciously processes this data in order to make sense of it, like assembling pieces of a puzzle. Once finished, Ni generates an impression that seems to come out of ‘nowhere.’” 
One of the most frustrating things about being an INTJ is that I can see, "plain as a pikestaff" what is going to happen, and other people can't. (We'll discuss the Cassandra Syndrome anon, but suffice it to say my biggest pain points in life is People Just Don’t Listen to Me.)

"Person A is going to yell at Person B, and then will be surprised when Person B really goes off, Person A will try to appeal to other parties for aid, but not realize this rant has now opened a Pandora's Box with Person B that nobody will ever be able to close and Person A will live to regret that decision."

At the very least, I'm forever biting my tongue to not say, “I told you so.” (Some days, I don't bite it, and on those days you will deserve it.)

This is because Introverted Intuition is the most thinking-ahead of all the cognitive functions. It is holistic and sees the big picture. It does a spectacular job noticing patterns on a panoramic scale. But it’s not sufficient for me to just marvel at what I envision. The “eureka!” moment leads me to work on making it (whatever that may be) a reality.

Dr. Drenth notes this is when my auxiliary function (Extroverted Thinking) comes into play. In my head I create a complete framework for my solution to a problem or situation, with all its parts (remember the parts bin?) and processes.

Introverted Intuition features a very powerful visual element. For me it's as easy to think in images as in words. (Because, hello...patterns.) The visual nature of Introverted Intuition makes INTJs highly sensitive to beauty, whether it’s aesthetic, metaphorical, linguistic, or otherwise. However, this is a subconscious thing, more like being aware of beauty when it is absent. Therefore INTJs are often driven to be in an environment they consider not just beautiful, but -- get this -- immersively so.

Likewise, INTJs are alleged to have very particular tastes (not necessarily what other people like, either) and may be serious collectors and patrons of the arts or culture. As a result, my tastes have always run toward classical and elegant things. There is something about timeless aesthetics (and it's not price!) that meets a need in my psyche—and I can spot the failings in what falls short. The result is a desire for high quality (again, NOT PRICY) things in my life.

I invariably sense the weak link in a situation as soon as I look at it—doesn't matter what it is; how the store counters are set up, a client’s business plan, or what functions a computer program or an app has or lacks. This is not to say I'm an expert on these subjects, but I DO have "a sixth sense for inefficiency." So, I get an almost ecstatic feeling when I experience a display of absolute competent mastery. Doesn't matter if it's at a burger joint or a boardroom.

Also, generally, I have absolutely zero desire to meet a friend’s friend. Unless they happen to be fascinating, I can't be bothered.

Quick side story.

Early on in my friendship with the lovely and gracious Poppy, I was visiting her in Chicago. I was staying at the Drake, and for some reason she was going to be late and she roped me into waiting for her to finish, at the bar with her husband. Purely out of politeness, I said yes. Sat down with him and, immediately, by the way he ordered his cocktail, I could see he was one of nature's marvels. We stayed at the Drake bar, talking about the horticultural differences among limes, German expressionism, and other very cool things until La Poppy barreled in, rather tense that we had kept HER waiting for over an hour.

Also, there’s always a “right way” to do things, whether it’s how to assemble a hamburger (ketchup and diced red onions on the bottom, mustard and diagonally sliced Kosher dill pickles on the top) or loading the trunk of the car. Developing a system makes small tasks more efficient, and guarantees I get the specific results I want.

The problem is I don't see there is a need for explaining to anyone why. As a consequence, I get terribly vexed when someone doesn’t follow the plan or worse, starts badgering me with lunacies like "How do you know?" or worst of all, start questioning my every step. If I knew how I knew everything I know, then I would only know half of what I know, since the other half of my brain space would be taken up with how I know it.

One of my greatest pleasures is in immediately fixing something with which someone else has been struggling for ages. Whether it's a hollandaise that always breaks, to something "unfindable" on Google

I also casually but thoroughly devour information on a given topic until near-expert, then I move to a new topic. When I was a kid, I would look for something in the encyclopedia and something else would arrest my attention along the way and I had to read everything about THAT before continuing on with my original search.

Therefore, there’s nothing -- and I mean absolutely nothing -- I enjoy more than someone taking my advice and executing it as I hoped. In terms of everyday doings, my greatest superpower is eyeballing a problem and almost immediately seeing the way to make it better, or even solve it outright. I can spend all the livelong day spouting great suggestions or insights, only to be told I'm wrong. (And look who dares tell me that.) This is a wildly frustrating feeling. In fact, many of you have often seen me change my social media avatar to Cassandra, the prophetess of Greek mythology who was cursed, in that she could see the future but no one would believe her. It’s probably one of my biggest pain points. So when someone takes my advice to heart, nothing feels better. Fixing and improving things is what I'm best at.

Surprisingly to most people, it doesn’t make me feel good to be told how clever I am. Anyone who knows me knows I generally don’t take compliments well and this is extra true when I'm being praised for my intelligence. Gee, you’d think there’d be no higher compliment you could give than to tell me how smart I am.

But (and there's no way to say this without sounding like an arrogant jerk) I already know I'm smart; I’ve been told that all my life. What matters is what I do with that intelligence. As a consequence, accomplishing things is what matters to me. It's like going into a Michelin-starred kitchen and telling the chef how wonderful his stoves are. Achievements are the measure of applied intelligence.

So, as I hold myself to those standards, so do I hold the rest of the world. That means that precision is a non-negotiable item. When I order a Philly cheesesteak and request Provolone on it, I mean Provolone. If you’re out of Provolone, don't sub out Mozzarella and hope I won’t notice and/or care. This sounds trifling, but it's a really big deal. It’s not so much about the thing, it’s about the way my request is treated. If I have a preference, it's for a reason. Usually a carefully thought out and thoroughly developed reason. Either you haven’t bothered to note my preferences as carefully as I’ve done with yours (and if you’re in a close relationship with me, I assure you I’ve taken note of your likes and dislikes). Or, worse, someone jumped in and made a decision for me on my behalf ("Oh, he'll be fine with Mozzarella."). Oh, how I detest when other people make decisions for me.

Here we get into the thorny issue of emotions. Basically, the way I see it, emotions are your mind's private parts. I'm not going to wave mine around, and I sure as Hell would prefer to not see yours. Again, it's not that I don't have them, it's that they are not for public consumption. They are not a legitimate part of the decisionmaking process. (They may coincide with the logical decision, fine. But they cannot substitute for it.) I have occasional outbursts, and you will think they are weird. For a type considered “robotic,” INTJs, have a deep emotional core. I keep this to myself, not as a defense mechanism but simply because my feelings are private (see above). Expressing them in public is distasteful, like walking around without clothes below the waist. The problem is that those feelings are surprisingly (to you) sensitive.

The ingredients list in this matter includes:

a) A very strong sense of personal dignity
b) Extremely particular tastes (we'll discuss shopping for me anon)
c) Very unorthodox insecurities
d) A code of morals that I don’t talk about unless something violates it

Imagine what you get "if you cross a samurai's code of honor with the idealism of Gandhi and then give it impostor syndrome, you have a working model of the INTJ’s emotional core."

What ensues when these emotions get worked up? As far as you can tell, nothing, most of the time. I keep that quiet and deal with it privately. But sometimes emotions come out in a sudden burst that shocks everyone.

This usually happens when:
1- Someone insults me personally (especially an insult to my intelligence, cf. lying to me or taking advantage of my kindness)
2- I have to endure a pathological display of incompetence
3- Something is fundamentally and horribly unjust

You don't want to be around. You really, really don't.

This might be the number one most overlooked trait of INTJs. Because we have the Dr. Moriarty stereotype stapled to our collective foreheads, people assume I have some kind of force field and nothing can disturb my cold, robotic heart. But just because I don’t outwardly show a whole bloody lot of emotion, that doesn't preclude me from being still "highly sensitive" and bothered by particular scents, certain noises (clock radios on AM stations...gaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!) and itchy clothing — and especially disruptions in my schedule and routine. Because I naturally don't go around giving my feelings much outward expression, it’s easy for people (Hi Honey, I love you!) to miss the warning signs of a meltdown (irritation, withdrawal). I often have to think-through what I'm feeling and that takes even more alone time than just regular ol' brilliant thinking. So you've been warned.

There's a flip side to all that, too.

In his book The Five Love Languages, author Gary Chapman suggests that there are five main ways people express their love: physical touch, gifts, words of affirmation, quality time together, and acts of service. Your average INTJ will have “acts of service” as the main love language. This means having me in your life is a semi-Faustian bargain. A) it's pretty much guaranteed I won’t ever whisper soothingly with sympathy (and if I do, it's as though I'm speaking a ninth language, phonetically) when you’re having a bad day, but B) I will help you crush that horrid day and to make future days like it less probable.

Here's a great example from an online piece: “It was Christmas Eve, and on top of family obligations, I was still working on a past-deadline project for my job. I told my boyfriend how stressed out I was, and all I really wanted was a hug. Instead, he thought for a minute, took the shopping list, and proceeded to do every errand on my plate—so I could finish my work. It ended up being a really good Christmas.”

The funny thing about this love language is it goes both ways. All of us INTJs have the experience of telling a our beloved one about a problem with which we’re dealing, only to get a response of kind words and a hug. That's not helping. It leaves me wondering how long to endure the hug before I can break the clinch and start working on a solution. I get it. I know these gestures of sympathy are expressions of how much you care, and you want me to feel better.

But the problem is that the only thing that makes me feel better is solving the problem.

My reflexive response to any personal problem is to look for answers and solutions, not to sympathize with, or seek sympathy from, the other person. If someone is having a terrible day, to me it's useless to hug you and say "there, there" instead of fixing whatever is the problem. If you need emotional validation from me, this may not end well. When I'm upset, and someone tries to comfort me with words, I want to recoil as if they’re offering me a venomous spider. I am reminded of an old cartoon from National Lampoon, where a Roman prisoner is being crucified and his friends hang a canary in a cage from the crossbeam: "We thought a little birdie would cheer you up." That's what it feels like: getting a canary at my crucifixion, instead of someone coming over with a ladder and pliers.

There are upsides, too. Massive ones. I'm ferociously, yet methodically, loyal. This is a major component of my wiring. This sort of loyalty I expect is not just merely dreamy or romanticized but practical. Any breakdown in "our" system means someone cannot be predicted or relied upon. A relationship is a system and we both need to be able to make long-term projections. And, like everyone else, I have been burned in the past. I don't bother to let just anyone into the “inner circle,” and when I do, I have colossal expectations. A single let-down leaves lifelong scars.

Loyalty doesn’t mean merely fidelity. I have a sense of personal dedication to my loved ones, and I expect that in return. I believe competence and loyalty are two sides of the same coin; I cannot trust someone who just cheers wildly for me if I can't also count on that someone's advice and judgment. If you provide this, there will be no question of my loyalty in return. I will drop everything and come to you in your time of need (or more likely, adjust my stuff if possible so nothing winds up dropped).

If you're one of my can count on me.

But please leave me to myself. Like pretty much all INTJs, I need a staggering amount of alone time, which means time with zero distractions. I don’t make small talk during alone time. This is how I can get my mind to do what it does. Without it, I can’t accomplish squat; I know this can be aggravating.

Finally, if you have to get me a gift, get me a gift card. I'm a PITA to shop for, and I know it.

Summary: Don't lie to me. Don't ask me why I am doing whatever it is I'm doing. Don't doubt me. Don't whine. Don't have a freak-out. Don't seek emotional validation from me. Don't self-sabotage. Don't "drown in a glass of water." Don't interrupt me when I'm reading. Don't interrupt me when I'm working on something. Don't move my stuff. Don't reschedule at the last minute. Prioritize correctly. Have a sense of urgency. Press on regardless. Don't stall out. Be expedient. Don't make me repeat myself.

Posted by JMG at 6:28 PM 0 comments

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Esquire made me do it.

Esquire used to be my favorite magazine, once upon a time. But these days it has devolved into a sort of masculine-manqué manual for those newly arrived to New York. Anyway. They published a list of 75 things a man should know or be able to do and #12 was How To Buy A Suit. The problem with the advice is that it's mostly "sound and fury, signifying nothing" and anyone who goes by the strict letter of it will likely wind up ill-suited.


I'm going to help you out. If you're a regular, chances are this won't be so bloody new to you, but in case you run into someone who may profit from this, you may want to print this out and hand it to them. It'll seem more authoritative than your telling them the same thing because, as we all know, no prophet hath honour in his own land. Of course the simple and sensible thing to do is sprint to a tailor accustomed to arraying civilized gentlemen, but that is neither quick nor inexpensive. Still, there is something to be learned from them as you go purchase suitable raiments.

The single most important matter in selecting a suit is its fit, and the most important aspect of fit as relates to the jacket is the shoulders. Pretty much anything else "wrong" with the jacket has a remedy, but if the shoulders are off, no amount of tailoring will set it right. In fact, you'd probably spend as much as a MTM* suit in trying to fix this in vain. So if it doesn't fit your shoulders let it go and never look back. Now, as far as fitting your shoulders go, there are two factors to keep in mind: width and pitch. Width we all know (or should, you caveperson) about: the shoulders should be wide enough for you to hug yourself, but not so wide it looks as if the epaulets are stitched on the wrong side. Pitch is something a bit more difficult to pin down. Basically it's how the jacket's shoulders slope as you get further away from the collar.

The cheap way to do this is to go in a straight line, regardless of what ideas your own collarbones may have in mind. In order to look good you need to stand ramrod straight at all times which, unless you have some spinal condition or nervous tic carried over from military school, you won't be able to do for long. Your shoulders have, to one degree or another, a measure of, well, slouch. Your jacket's shoulders ought have a similar curvature. Incidentally, when it comes to shoulder pads, you want almost none on your prominent shoulder (right, if you're a righty, left if you're a lefty) and just enough on your opposite shoulder to make the jacket symmetrical.

Delving deeper into the "bones" of the suit -- and I'm sorry, this simply wouldn't photograph well for me, so just play along -- the armhole (or scye) should be shaped like the silhouette of an egg. This is to afford you maximum freedom of movement with minimal fabric and padding and all that. With ready-made stuff this is less likely, so just aim for something as oval as possible. While you're at it, look at the way the shoulder is attached to the body. It should be obvious from the silhouette where the body ends and the shoulder begins. Like a tiny little speedbump. Look for what are basically very subtle pleats on the shoulder, this indicates it was sewn by hand and will have a more yielding (i.e. comfortable) feel than something hacked together by machine.


There are many touches that distinguish something worthwhile from something so-so. Look at the lapel. Its width should be such that if you kept going straight from its outer edge it would neatly bisect the width of your shoulders. If it swallows up the pocket square it's too broad, if it reveals all of the breast pocket it's too small. Look behind the lapel. If you see a little loop of silk to hold the stem of a flower in place, it means the tailor took extra care to make this jacket. Never mind you'll never wear a flower, someone who has bothered so much with an invisible detail will have really sweated out the big stuff. This is good.
Now look at the breast pocket. (It's a crummy picture, so make an effort, will you?) Most of the time it will be a perfectly oblong strip of fabric perfectly parallel to the floor. Ideally it will slant slightly downward from the shoulder side to the chest side, and even more ideally, will be "boat shaped" meaning the outer seam will be, instead of a pair of right angles, a +/- 75 deg. at the top and 105 deg. at the bottom.
Move over to the other outside pockets. Now, I happen to like the smaller "ticket" pocket, but it's OK if you don't. (You are under no obligation to maximize your stylishness.) Note the pockets flare slightly at their rearward edge. This a) keeps them tucked in when you want to go for a more "continental" or sleek look and b) make it easier for you to work your way inside the pocket to reach for something. This is another of those details that add up. Now flip the jacket inside out. The more handstitching you see (you can tell because the stitches will be visible and ever-so-slightly irregular, as opposed to the invisible precision of machine-sewn) the better. There are two ways to go on the inside of the jacket. One is a half-lining, which is pretty posh because it requires all of the exposed seams to be neatly finished, which adds hours to the garment which jacks up the price. The other is with a full lining which can be pretty posh, if you select silk over the more pedestrian rayon, for example. I tend to lean towards a full lining, because it makes for a smoother dressing experience and less friction between jacket and shirt as you sit, move, turn, etc. If you look carefully, you'll note those little touches...a pen pocket, for instance. Or the interior pockets fastening with a button and loop which is cheap and easy to replace were it to fray or tear (as opposed to a buttonhole on expensive silk lining, which isn't either).

Turning the jacket right-side-out again look at the sleeve cuff. In a custom/bespoke/MTM jacket, there should be working buttonholes -- this is so that you may wash your hands without having to take off your jacket -- and this means if the jacket sleeves match your own (i.e. they stop just shy of your wrist bump) the garment was made for you exclusively, blahblahblah. This sort of sleeve in pretty unalterable, which means the jacket is not really wearable by anyone else. Yes, I s'pose you could detach the sleeve and reattach it at the correct length but for the expense it would run you you might as well get a MTM suit.
Anyway, some off-the-rack (or off-the-peg) jackets will have an open seam at the sleeve that it may be altered to fit you and then have buttonholes cut thereinto. Go for those if you can find them and they fit your budget. Do not, of course, go for those which already come with working sleeve buttonholes.
When it comes to trousers, the crucial fit factor is the waist. Easy enough. Not just the size of the waist, but how high it sits relative to your own natural waist. Ye Olde Classiques used to sit fairly high up, say, at the navel latitude. The European stuff sits, jeans-like, at the hip. Go for the Goldilocks effect and aim for something that sits at just below your navel. Given that our waistlines will fluctuate somewhat no matter what we do, and given that belts are far too much the hallmark of a sartorial rube, you want some sort of side-tab adjustment. There are two kinds, the slide-tab and the button tab. The slide tab has the advantage of being infinitely adjustable, but the disadvantage of needing not-infrequent adjustment. The button tab (featuring 2, maybe 3, buttons per side) is set-and-forget, assuming the buttons are sewn in the correct spots. I like the button tab arrangement better. Also, if something went awry, I could sew one of the buttons back on...dunno I could work my magic on the slide mechanism. Incidentally, you needn't opt for suspenders (or "braces") but they do add a serious touch of style.
While we're down there, look at the front of the trousers, where everything fastens together. There should be something called a French fly (now, now class...) which is basically a longish, diagonalish tab that is affixed with a button on the inside of the waist. This keeps any extraneous bulges to a minimum, lest the little old lady whom you help to cross the street thinks you're particularly happy to see her.
Once you're all buttoned up -- or zipped, your call -- we get to the matter of pleats. You can't really see it clearly in the picture, but these trousers have their pleats opening up towards the center or "inward" pleats. 99% of all the pleated trousers out there are OUTWARD pleats (i.e. opening up towards the hips) and these are wrong. Flat-front trousers are really only flattering on the slimmest of men (31" waist, at most).
The legs of the trousers should taper gently, like your own legs do. Flared, straight and pegged trousers are all wrong. Figure the width at the knee of +/- 22" and +/- 19" at the cuff. Oh, and speaking of...the trousers must be cuffed (except for formalwear): 1.625"-1.75" depending on your height. (The taller, the cuffier.)

When it comes to fabrics, you want nothing lower than Super100s wool. If the label makes prominent mention of the mill where it was woven (Sherry & Holland or Loro Piana, for example) this is a very good thing. Stick to fad-proof colors and patterns. Navy or dark grey (pinstriped, micro-herringbone, "nailhead" or plain) are always good, and you may accessorize them to meet the whims of the zeitgeist or of your own peculiar satrorial proclivities. Once you have an inventory of some basics, you can move to more advanced options, such as linen fabrics or glen plaids or houndstooth patterns.

Single- or double-breasted is your call.

Of course, if you're feeling flush you can just saunter to, say, Alan Flusser and have something custom/bespoke (meaning the pattern has been created exclusively for you and your measurements) or, if slightly less flush, made-to-measure (meaning all the same measurements are taken, but the pattern is a standard one adapted to said measurements).


*Made-to-measure, you philistine

Posted by JMG at 9:21 AM 2 comments

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

A mere formality.

With various weddings, and the awards season and gala season in our scope, etc. I came to the conclusion the time had come (the Walrus said) to wax eloquent on the matter of men's formalwear.
Speaking technically, the tuxedo (or, more accurately "evening suit") is actually semi-formal; formal being the white-tie-and-tails ensemble. The definition of formal implies adhering to the form. The question then surges: "How does a civilized man adhere to form with the maximum of style and individuality?" The first thing to be addressed is what makes an acceptable tuxedo (and its rakish brother, the dinner jacket) and what makes an unacceptable tuxedo. A tuxedo, at its core, is basically a black suit, and all the elements of fit and construction and workmanship and fabric quality apply thereto. There are important distinctions, howe'er. JACKET: A tuxedo, if single breasted ONLY has one button. If double breasted, it can have 6 buttons (any two of the lower four can be buttoned) or 4 (the lower two are buttoned). The lapel may NOT be notched, as in the usual single breasted suit but they may be "shawl-ed" and obviously may always be peaked. These lapel characteristics are in force regardless of whether or not the jacket is single- or double-breasted. A jacket with double besom pockets is slightly dressier as is a jacket with ribbed silk lapels, or fabric covered (the same fabric as is used on the lapels) buttons. None of these elements, however are, strictly speaking, necessary. TROUSERS: The trousers really should be forward pleated (although, again, this is not strictly mandatory) and should taper gradually from knee to ankle (say, 21" to 17"). There should be one silk stripe along the outseam, matching the silk on the lapel. There should be either adjustable side tabs on the outside of the waistband and/or suspender buttons on the inside of the waistband. A tuxedo's trousers are NEVER cuffed. FABRIC: Black tropical-weight wool is the safest of the widely available choices. Linen and cotton can be rather whimsical choices and heavier weights of wool are okay if the weather (and climate control) lean towards the nippy. Ideally, one could get a tuxedo in midnight blue, which looks black under artificial light (black often looks like a really dark green…I dunno why) but this is almost exclusively the province of custom tailors. If you truly must, go to Savile Row, Edgar Pomeroy or Alan Flusser. SHIRT: Two choices, really. Pleated-front shirt with turn down collar (either some manifestation of spread or straight) and wing collar shirt with a piqué front. In the latter case, the tie may, or may not, properly go behind the wings of the wing collar, as the collar is properly so damned stiff one has no choice. The shirt ideally should be insanely white. A band (or buttondown, or tab, etc.) collar is, as we used to say back at school, "bad wrong." A good choice is Charles Tyrwhitt and the most old-school choice is Brooks Brothers'. TIES: A tuxedo is ALWAYS worn with a bow tie. No long ties, no black 'n' gold buttons/studs in lieu of a tie. The tie should be was wide as the outer corners of your eyes and should "flare" between 1.5" and 2" (3.75 - 5 cm). It should be black and it should match the facings of the lapel. The tie can be non-black if the rest of the outfit is pretty classical and if the event allows some for some stylish variance. Some patterns of blackwatch, of TINY black and white houndstooth are quite smart -- and therefore, my personal choice -- when the event is not that strict. VEST/CUMMERBUND - With a double breasted jacket neither is necessary, although a viable (and often visible) option. A cummerbund should always match the bow tie, and should always have a ticket pocket. A vest may or may not match the tie. JEWELS - This means cufflinks and studs, which ought match and be rather simple. Flat gold discs--with monogrammed cufflinks, ideally--are best. Sterling silver or platinum can also prove a nice touch, if a bit "cooler." Onyx or mother of pearl are also acceptable if a bit less classical. The links should NOT be swivel backed. A pocket watch (to match stud/link set) is also ultra-dressy, and works best with a vest, although in some cases the trousers have a pocket to accomodate such a timepiece. Any wristwatch should be small, discreet and plain gold or silver with a glossy black leather (think reptile) strap. SHOES - Patent leather, capless oxfords are the safest choice. Opera pumps (available in--in increasing levels of formality--alligator, matte calf, etc.) are for the ultra snappy dresser. Oh, and a white linen pocket square is an absolute must. The choice of folds is yours. -J.

Posted by JMG at 9:14 AM 0 comments

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Ice. Ice, baby.

One of the things that lets the world know you are very serious about your home bar is what professionals call -- without the merest trace of irony -- your "ice program."

What this really means is that the ice you use has no crazy off-flavors, it dilutes your drink neither too much nor too little (i.e., The Goldilocks Principle) and enhances the appearance of the drink in your hand. For Tiki drinks (please consult my published works) crushed ice, or sometimes very small cubed ice, will be fine.

Tiki drinks are usually opaque and/or served in opaque vessels and/or are garnished VERY distractingly, so the ice doesn't play a terribly important visual role.

But, sometimes you are serving something "on the rocks" or similar. It's a clear drink, so the ice will show. You want this to be attractive...maybe even a bit dramatic. So you get Dramatic Ice Molds, to yield either a giant cube (as above) or an ice sphere.

For this you will need an ice mold. I suggest that you get one of the freebies Maker's Mark sends out when you become (again, free) an "Ambassador" on their website.

The other thing is that you want to have your ice as clear as possible. I'm not that fanatical, so an opaque core doesn't vex me. At any rate, the trick is to direct the direction of the freezing so as to minimize the amount of cloudiness trapped within the ice. You do that by keeping the side exposed to the air (in the case of the red mold, where the vent openings are) warmer, so it will freeze AFTER the opposite side has frozen, pushing out as much of the assorted trapped gases, etc. as possible. I do this by placing a hot oven mitt on top of the mold.

And there ya go.


PS If you want to be really fanatical, Google "directional freezing cocktail ice." Have fun.

Posted by JMG at 3:05 PM 1 comments