This page was designed as a catch-all, featuring temporary diversions. At the moment I have posted a somewhat random selection of pictues with accompanying commentary, many of which are of friends and acquaintances. And so I proudly present to you this... I love this ensemble. It's an apt expression of the values I like to espouse: warmth, kindness, and strangeness. Yes, yes, I know this is silly Victorian clip art, but take a good look at the ease with which it all comes together without feeling pinched or stiff. Very much at ease with itself, with its slightly rumpled comfort and dusty colors (the light blue trousers and green jacket are wonderful; even the spats seem to work, incredibly). I'd certainly wear it to a springtime garden party (not a cookout—a garden party). Other than cufflinks I don't care for bling-a-ding-ding, so the watch would have to go. Don't believe in them, anyway. Ah—there we go! The embroidered French blue waistcoat is a Paul Smith, and keeps me warmer than a sweater (hats and waistcoats are very practical, but are viewed as unneccesary affectations for some reason). The rest of the ensemble is discount or off the rack—a slightly more upmarket version of tramp aestheticism. The fit of the clothes aren't dead-on, but it lends a certain rumpled but comfy feel, which is befitting country attire. I live in a very lush area, which probably affects my choice in items and materials (I have a boutonniere garden, for instance). What I wear here wouldn't make much sense in an arid climate or in a major city. I might wear this ensemble to a party in a leafy Philadelphia courtyard, but not to Manhattan. Harsh settings call for cleaner lines, for some reason. I love this mode of dress, but In some ways I'm also poking a bit of fun at myself with it; It's best to transcend one's shortcomings rather than deny them, don't you think? In some ways I'm blessed, because I think having leading man looks would be very confining and tedious. Of course, this is another way of saying that what I wear may not translate well to others, so take care if you should decide to emulate. This sort of thing is best left to odd ducks: after all, we're not vying for the corner office, nor are we running for senate. Not big on top hats (too short for them), and I can do without the slippers; I'd prefer a buckled shoe with an arched last and suspicious heel. But the culottes, crimson stockings, and kercheifs tucked in the vests are worth some consideration. Ah, the theatricality of the pavonine incroyables! The red coat with striped stockings, nose-high neckcloth and braided locks are a delight—but the robin's egg blue gloves! Never without a cudgel, these fellows. At that time in post-revolutionary France, one could read others' political alleigances by thier clothes, and so on occasion one had to defend oneself. Cecil Beaton and David Hockney. Note David's mismatched socks and Cecil's kercheif and green velvet suit. James Jimenez, lounging in front of Cafe Reggio, a Greenwich Village institution since 1927. James complained that people wouldn't leave him alone that day, constantly taking photos of him like he were an attraction. Of course James understood why he attracted gawkers, but it bothered him, nonetheless. I think they just interfered with his own enjoyment; you see, some may think that such a lark is intended solely for attention, but such a conclusion is the product of a conventional mind. It would be closer to the truth to say that James was trying to live out a little bit of the world he has long nurtured in his fertile noggin. In short, he wanted an afternoon of freedom: to dress the way he liked, and to visit a place he greatly enjoyed without being harrassed. It's something most people take for granted, but is often beyond the reach of those individuals whose rich imaginations outstrip their surroundings. Quite courageous, to lay oneself bare like that. Massimiliano Mocchia, Earl of Coggiola, in his Turin home. Note the bold choice in shoes—just the twist needed for such a stately suit. Without them, the ensemble would look too stiff, serious and uninspired. A masterful stroke, as it suggests that everything on him is absolutely intentional, and not mere deference to conventional tastes. Nothing quite like Italian brio. Massimiliano in his library donning a bespoke jacket featuring heroic lapels and a cinched waist, with a distinctive shirt and tie combination. Very elegant and poised, yet relaxed and lively. An exemplar of Old World sprezzatura. And now for a distinctly American flavor: San Franciscan Robert Haines draws from a variety of mid-century modernist sources (Jacques Tati figures largely in Robert's pantheon). His tie is by the late California designer Ernest Beall. Being a vintage connoisseur, Robert has about 180 of his designs, all of which which bring to mind the muted yet sunny colors used in the work of West Coast modernist painter Richard Diebenkorn, known for his beautiful abstract Ocean Park series. There's much to be said for a personal aesthetic informed by one's surroundings, and I think Robert's is a good example. Dickon Edwards in his London flat. Here we see the deliberate bending of sartorial rules with the marvelous white socks and spectators (after all, such rules are obeyed slavishly only by those who lack their own style). Dickon has two basic looks—one in a dark suit, one in a light—but uses his limited palette to maximum effect. Dickon is a fellow of modest means, but has taken his limitations, and made them into a leitmotif. Dickon's taste is what is in the forefront here, not his wallet. Doran Wittelsbach, looking very much like Old Scratch Himself, having a smoke outside of the party held in New York in his honor this spring. Doran at home with his companion, Vlad. He really takes the familiar and makes it unfamiliar again here. The piping in this suit is superb, and Doran gives great profile. Doran's journal is a wonderful visual resource for those interested in the history of male dress and eccentrics of yore. Have a sip! Messrs. Wittelsbach, Whimsy and McGough (I told you I was short). The necktie I wore that evening—a gift from my friend Sean—is more like a velvet scarf, and as thick as a cow's tongue. It was made at the same workshop in Rome that makes the Pope's vestments. Mr. Wittelsbach looks raffish in his vintage, Mr. McGough is impeccable in his bespoke, and I am playing the potato in this particular rose garden. Nick about Chinatown in a wonderful tramp aesthete thrift ensemble, perfect for such a rainy day. It's not hand-tailored and it isn't "classic"—but it is fresh and stylish, without being trendy. Not an easy thing to do, if one has limited resources; no hiding behind nostalgia here. Here we have Noah Georgeson, producer of Devendra Banhart, Bert Jansch and Joanna Newsom. The hair and beard are unkempt, but provide a wonderfully lively contrast with his somewhat studious tramp aesthete emsemble. He has the air of a southern gentleman here, and I love how he has incorporated the seersucker jacket with the vest and tie. Top marks all around. Patrick McDonald seen here making his appointed nocturnal rounds, looking as gloriously garish as ever with his Liz Taylor-inspired eyebrows, plaid jacket and Rod Keenan chapeau. The color theory going on in this ensemble is truly inspired. Patrick makes no apologies for his otherworldliness, nor should he—a true club/beau monde hothouse flower, bless him. Lest you think me partisan, let's now have a look at our man Sean, a neckwear designer at Ralph Lauren who enjoys exploring a conservative aesthetic that paradoxically comes off as conspicuous, perhaps even a bit radical. Here we see a mix of customized and vintage items that Sean pulls off beautifully with his tall frame and carefully-groomed, vaguely British looks (an apt example of how one has to take one's physical presence into consideration when putting a look together). The shoes are perfect, as are the shirt and tie. Is it new? No, but the execution is the point here, not the novelty. Bravo, Sean. A softspoken gentleman entered Obscura one Friday when I was discussing details with friends Evan and Mike about a reading. His dress was vintage/thrift, but he had made it all his own by adding little details like a sewn-on pocket, elbow patches and back cinch. Brought to mind how young guys will customize and soup up a Honda Civic. Of course it's "overdone" and "incorrect", but it's not about who can be the most impeccable: it's art (look up the Baroness Elsa von Freytag Loringhoven for another example of someone who explored wearable art). It's about the process, the tinkering, and the challenge of turning commonplace dross into something beautiful and unique. He uses shortcomings and imperfections as his medium. His overall look may seem silly to those without an artistic temperament, but this weeds out the clueless gits, doesn't it? There's a generous, humane warmth to this ensemble--I'd even go so far as to call it ethical, since he's repurposing existing clothes. Mike is obviously someone who loves to live imaginatively, and doesn't take himself too seriously. Besides, sometimes the most refined thing to do is to toy with vulgarity. Made my night. What about female dandies, you ask? Well, here's Radclyffe Hall, whose lover was... ...fellow "dandie" Una Vincenzo, Lady Troubridge. Here's our own Lady P, up in a tree for a recent photo shoot for Swindle. (Courtesy Adam Wallacavage) Who has the nerve to wear yellow? Eggcellent. A delightfully colorful Regency-era drawing room at the Phila. Museum of Art. I just love the Greek elements in Regency-era clothing and design—it's busy, but light with wonderful aquas, creams and salmons. Women's hosiery from that time are very interesting, with colorful designs about the ankles.