31 December 2015
25 December 2015
21 December 2015
17 December 2015
16 December 2015
15 December 2015
14 December 2015
Drinking for Chaps: How to Choose One's Booze (Gustav Temple & Olly Smith)
Drinking for Chaps is a collaboration between Gustav Temple and esteemed drinks writer Olly Smith. Together they embarked on a magical journey to the heart of each and every type of alcoholic drink imaginable, from cocktails to cognac and everything in between, in order to set out precisely how Chaps should approach each of them. From which particular jacket to wear when sipping white wine, what to nibble with a glass of vodka, how to mix a dry martini, and, crucially, how to deal with an awful hangover, Drinking For Chaps shows true chaps the way to the bar.
Packed with history, background, a bit of technical information (but not too much), mythology and portraits of legendary boozers such as Oliver Reed, Sir Kingsley Amis, Winston Churchill and Peter O’Toole, there is plenty to read in this tome aside from which bottle of cheap plonk to take to a dinner party (though that’s in there too).
Endorsed by none other than Sir Roger Moore: “Fascinating, especially as I pop up all over the pages!” and Guardian drinks writer Henry Jeffries, who declared: “Tackling such important issues as whether it’s ever acceptable to wear a fez while drinking cocktails, it’s best read when slightly drunk. I can offer no higher praise.”'
11 December 2015
10 December 2015
08 December 2015
The Brooks Brothers Shirt
As you know, I have been a Brooks Brothers customer since I was very young. I regularly peruse the company literature. I recently spotted this quote from Tom Davis, a Brooks Brothers salesman, on the famed Fiat chairman and style icon Gianni Agnelli, who only wore Brooks Brothers button-down shirts:
"Mr. Agnelli loved clothing, and he was like a kid in a candy shop when I took him for a tour around the store...He wore three colors: white, beige, blue. Not stripe, never another color."
I found this quote very timely, as I have similarly limited my shirtings to just a few colours: white, beige, blue, and pink. No stripes, no patterns. Button-down and spread collar. Pinpoint and oxford cloth. That's it.
After completing an audit of my dress shirt collection, I removed all of the unconventional numbers. It may be difficult getting rid of certain items, especially the expensive ones, but it does make things easier in the long run. When you know what you like and what looks good, go with it.
A proper dress shirt is the foundation of the professional chap's wardrobe. Keep it simple, clean, and classic.
Save the flash for interesting ties, watches, and accessories, if you so choose.
"Mr. Agnelli loved clothing, and he was like a kid in a candy shop when I took him for a tour around the store...He wore three colors: white, beige, blue. Not stripe, never another color."
I found this quote very timely, as I have similarly limited my shirtings to just a few colours: white, beige, blue, and pink. No stripes, no patterns. Button-down and spread collar. Pinpoint and oxford cloth. That's it.
After completing an audit of my dress shirt collection, I removed all of the unconventional numbers. It may be difficult getting rid of certain items, especially the expensive ones, but it does make things easier in the long run. When you know what you like and what looks good, go with it.
A proper dress shirt is the foundation of the professional chap's wardrobe. Keep it simple, clean, and classic.
Save the flash for interesting ties, watches, and accessories, if you so choose.
07 December 2015
04 December 2015
03 December 2015
01 December 2015
Brogued, Bothered, & Besuited
The days flow in unceasing rhythm, and a new year beckons. It is important, as you know, to face the approaching Sturmwind appropriately clothed in classic finery. In this exclusive photo (at left), I am wearing a Corneliani suit in a lightweight chalk stripe pattern and a bespoke pair of Cleverley brogues in City black. Note the fine chisel toes on the shoes. At my request, the toecaps have been specially reinforced with aerospace-grade titanium, for when I kick against the Bolshevik menace. If you spot a tall, well-dressed gent patrolling the carriageways at dawn, do stop and say hello.
30 November 2015
Impending Christmas Soirée
As you may have heard, I have just been invited to a Christmas bash in Los Angeles with the fashionista set. Amongst whom, I have been informed, are several celebrities whose names you would recognise. I don't know about you, but I have been particularly naughty this year--but there's always room for improvement, as it were. I shall let you know how it goes.
24 October 2015
08 October 2015
17 July 2015
03 July 2015
30 June 2015
Our Purpose
No, we did not ask to be born in these times, but there is a reason why we were. We have a specific purpose here. We are on a mission. Thank God you were created for this era. It is an honour to have been chosen. If you can figure it out and accept it, then everything makes sense. Perceive clearly the path before you.
23 June 2015
22 June 2015
18 June 2015
Saturday Night Cat Fight
Saturday night's alright for fighting, apparently, because I recently had two girls fight over me.
So the other night I went out with a girlfriend to a live music venue in Laguna Beach. We procured some cocktails and stood near the stage. The IOIs [Indicators of Interest] started coming in thick and fast, particularly from a group of hot thirtysomething blondes who were gyrating across the dance floor. Of course, my girlfriend noticed and immediately got into defense mode.
At one point one of the tiny blondes slid in between us and started grinding her tight little ass on my chopper. It was quite blatant. Having consumed several G&Ts by that point, I honestly didn't much care at first, but my lady companion did and words were exchanged.
I was oblivious to what was going down next to me, until another woman--who was there with her boyfriend and who kept smiling at me and rubbing my beard (which was also driving my companion crazy)--told me what was up. My girlfriend and the tiny blonde were in each other's face and threatening each other. I caught the words "fucking cunt" and "fuck off". It looked as if blows were about to be exchanged.
After I told her to calm down my lady finally just turned her back on her and the little blonde backed off, swearing and spitting. I turned around and yelled at her to fuck off, chill out, relax, and enjoy the music. She slinked away to the back of the bar with her friends. She was still glaring at us when we left at midnight.
I think I handled the scene rather well and prevented what could have turned into major drama and possible crime scene and spilled blood on the dance floor. I didn't want to be a total scoundrel to the little blonde and her hot friends because, well, you never know. One has to leave one's options open.
My one regret was not getting the number of the woman who kept smiling at me and rubbing my bearded face. She was seriously sexy, with long light brown hair bleached at the ends and a rack to die for. Her boyfriend, strangely enough, was cool with it and kept trying to make nice with me.
It's all about attitude and how you carry yourself.
The funny thing is, when I was yelling at the tiny blonde to fuck off and chill out--I had to raise my voice due to the loud music--she had what I think was an aroused look on her face and it seemed as if she was about to kiss me.
There's always next Saturday.
So the other night I went out with a girlfriend to a live music venue in Laguna Beach. We procured some cocktails and stood near the stage. The IOIs [Indicators of Interest] started coming in thick and fast, particularly from a group of hot thirtysomething blondes who were gyrating across the dance floor. Of course, my girlfriend noticed and immediately got into defense mode.
At one point one of the tiny blondes slid in between us and started grinding her tight little ass on my chopper. It was quite blatant. Having consumed several G&Ts by that point, I honestly didn't much care at first, but my lady companion did and words were exchanged.
After I told her to calm down my lady finally just turned her back on her and the little blonde backed off, swearing and spitting. I turned around and yelled at her to fuck off, chill out, relax, and enjoy the music. She slinked away to the back of the bar with her friends. She was still glaring at us when we left at midnight.
I think I handled the scene rather well and prevented what could have turned into major drama and possible crime scene and spilled blood on the dance floor. I didn't want to be a total scoundrel to the little blonde and her hot friends because, well, you never know. One has to leave one's options open.
My one regret was not getting the number of the woman who kept smiling at me and rubbing my bearded face. She was seriously sexy, with long light brown hair bleached at the ends and a rack to die for. Her boyfriend, strangely enough, was cool with it and kept trying to make nice with me.
It's all about attitude and how you carry yourself.
The funny thing is, when I was yelling at the tiny blonde to fuck off and chill out--I had to raise my voice due to the loud music--she had what I think was an aroused look on her face and it seemed as if she was about to kiss me.
There's always next Saturday.
17 June 2015
27 May 2015
22 May 2015
Swagger
Last night an old lady came up to me in the street, gave me a big smile, and said I have swagger. That's cool, because I was afraid it might be pimp-walk.
11 May 2015
06 May 2015
11 April 2015
25 March 2015
My disdain for the paparazzi began early. When I was 9 my parents hired a professional photographer for a family portrait somewhere in rural CT. I thought the whole thing was gay, and, befitting my stubborn, contemptuous nature, refused to smile for it. The photographer kept cajoling and teasing me to get me to smile, but I refused. I quickly came to hate that prick. He ended up taking a bunch of pictures in which I could only manage an awkward smirk. Needless to say, I ruined the day for everyone, they informed me. Certainly the incident contributed to the growing rift and estrangement between me and my relatives which persists to this day. Just because I didn’t want to look like a grinning little idiot. Mofos.
19 March 2015
Poets and Fighters
— Dominique Venner (1935-2013)
12 March 2015
10 March 2015
09 March 2015
28 February 2015
23 February 2015
On Sexual Assault
As you have probably heard, my social calendar has been rather hectic lately. I was out late with friends over the weekend. The female behaviour I observed at both live music venues was a bit startling to say the least, at least to an old school fogey like moi. Saturday night I was assaulted--if that is the right word--twice by random young women. One fondled my beard, while the other one groped my chest. Have things really come to this? Maybe they have--but I'm certainly not pressing charges. See you next weekend.
16 February 2015
07 February 2015
05 February 2015
03 February 2015
28 January 2015
Back Door Women
I went out with a girlfriend last Saturday night to one of my favourite cocktail establishments. Seated next to us at the bar were two attractive women, a blonde and a brunette with startling blue eyes, probably late 30s. Athletic, fit-looking, with aggressively large tits. Clearly alphas.
These kinds of women are quite common here in Orange County, and one learns to deal with them in the course of interacting with the local female population.
One of them–the brunette one seated facing me–kept checking me out and saying something to her friend, who turned around a few times to look at me. The look she gave me was penetrating and felt as if it were a challenge. To what, I've no idea.
After a while the two women left.
According to my girlfriend, the whole time we were there the two women had been talking about the new boyfriend one of them had and the sexual positions he made her adopt, including a few references to her ‘back door’.
I hadn’t heard anything. The revelation of the subject of their conversation initially surprised me, until I reminded myself that women are like this, only usually they’re more discreet about it.
These kinds of women are quite common here in Orange County, and one learns to deal with them in the course of interacting with the local female population.
One of them–the brunette one seated facing me–kept checking me out and saying something to her friend, who turned around a few times to look at me. The look she gave me was penetrating and felt as if it were a challenge. To what, I've no idea.
After a while the two women left.
According to my girlfriend, the whole time we were there the two women had been talking about the new boyfriend one of them had and the sexual positions he made her adopt, including a few references to her ‘back door’.
I hadn’t heard anything. The revelation of the subject of their conversation initially surprised me, until I reminded myself that women are like this, only usually they’re more discreet about it.
24 January 2015
18 January 2015
Bearded Clergy
The current crisis in the Roman Catholic Church, it could be argued, may be attributed to the lack of beards on Catholic clergy, including the Pope. Although, I do recall a couple of Jesuit priests of my schooldays who sported beards. I also remember an enormous, long-haired French-Canadian Jesuit priest who habitually wore a large plaid flannel shirt over his buttoned front instead of a black cassock and cape. By the time I entered into their care the cassock and cape had disappeared among the Jesuits.
Why we won’t get a bearded pope, Christopher Howse, The Daily Telegraph, 22 February 2013
Why we won’t get a bearded pope, Christopher Howse, The Daily Telegraph, 22 February 2013
05 January 2015
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