British Falcons & Hawks Club

J.Press Bowtie

Merci à notre correspondant à New York

Totenkopf

The Duke of Wolfenbüttel, imprisoned by Napoleon, revived the Order of the Death's Head (Totenkopf), founded in 1652 by the Duke of Württemberg-Oels. The revival of this order apparently was realised in the rising of the Black Legion of Germany that defeated Napoleon. The Death's Head was on the headgear of all the Brunswick Hussars. Knights and ladies of the Order had to devote their life to contemplation on the "secrets of God and Nature" and the meaning of life in accordance with the maxim of "Memento mori" (translation: 'remember you will die' or 'be mindful of death'). Religious insignia consisted of a silver or white enamel totenkopf, suspended with a black neck ribbon with silver embroidered words "Memento mori" and a silver ring with a skull worn on the left hand. The Order expired upon the death of the prince Sylwiusz in 1664. It was revived by his granddaughter Elizabeth Luiza Fr. Saksonii-Merseburga in 1709 as a sisterhood, only to expire again after her death. The spirit of this order has lived on, and has been used by many more generations of armies. The Totenkopf is an eternal reminder that death is certain.

Légion étrangère française: Côte-d'Ivoire 2003

Jack Wills: Fabulously British Clothing

To Stay Alive (Michel Houellebecq)

"Given the characteristics of the modern era, love can scarcely manifest itself anymore. Yet the ideal of love has not diminished. Being, like all ideals, fundamentally atemporal, it can neither diminish nor disappear."

Michel Houellebecq, Rester vivant (1999)

Patrick Leigh Fermor

"I found my mind wandering at games; loved boxing and was good at it; and in summer, having chosen rowing instead of cricket, lay peacefully by the Stour, well upstream of the rhythmic creaking and the exhortation, reading Lily Christine and Gibbon and gossiping with kindred lotus-eaters under the willow-branches."

Patrick Leigh Fermor, A Time Of Gifts (1977)

Waverider

Morris of Stockholm

Nassau Club Days

Admiral Cod On Tour: Beverly Hills

See You (Depeche Mode)

Chelsea Farmer's Club

Chelsea Farmer’s Club
Bleibtreustraße 40
10623 Berlin

Chelsea Farmer’s Club
Kasernenstraße 23
40213 Düsseldorf

Email: info@chelseafarmersclub.de

http://www.chelseafarmersclub.de/

Brioni 1963-1964

Kill Your TV !

The White Lady Cocktail

Northumberland Beagling Festival

New Rose (The Damned)

Play at maximum volume

Tea Revives You !

Sensation (Arthur Rimbaud)

Par les soirs bleus d'été, j'irai dans les sentiers,
Picoté par les blés, fouler l'herbe menue:
Rêveur, j'en sentirai la fraîcheur à mes pieds.
Je laisserai le vent baigner ma tête nue.

Je ne parlerai pas, je ne penserai rien,
Mais l'amour infini me montera dans l'âme;
Et j'irai loin, bien loin, comme un bohémien,
Par la Nature, heureux--comme avec une femme.

Well-Heeled: LA versus NYC

Los Angeles versus New York City.

A rivalry imagined rather than experienced. Both cities occupy top billing in the 'pop' culture and both are known for attracting social-climbers, provincials, rubes, frauds, and aspiring sharks.

But there is an important difference that immediately distinguishes itself to those interested in details of style.

The latest issue of The Rake (Issue 11 Volume 5) contains a brief article on my favourite bespoke shoe maker, Cleverley, in which is repeated the old saying:

How do you tell the difference between a man from NYC and a fellow from LA?

The New Yorker has laces in his shoes.

How amusing. Although it is true I am not from LA and have actually lived in both this area and NYC for an equal number of years, I am close enough to LA today to feel an obligation to respond to this jibe.

Is there some truth in it? Yes, I think so. Certainly in my business and social dealings here in Southern California I notice that most of the other chaps wear loafers and other slip-on shoes.

And when I analyse my own collection, the numbers indicate that currently 67% of my shoes are of the slip-on variety. This number is set to increase, as I gradually replace my older oxfords and brogues with newly-acquired bespoke and MTO slip-on shoes.

Do you prefer loafers and slip-ons? If so, say it loud and proud!

After all, the New Yorker, living in the dangerous crime-infested environment for which his city is famous, has a very good reason to stick to laces.

The laces deter urban street thugs from stealing his shoes.

Boast

Corto Maltese: A Tribute - "The Sailor Without A Ship"

Chappisme

Hackett Autumn 2010

Admiral Cod On Tour: Mexico

Monsignor Gilbey

'When I first met Monsignor Gilbey at the Traveller's Club (where he had taken up residence following a long stint as the Catholic Chaplain at Cambridge) in 1967, my head was full of Evelyn Waugh. Faced with this sleek figure in his stylised accoutrements, I stupidly assumed that here was Father Rothschild, SJ, sprung to life from Vile Bodies.

I soon learnt that although Alfred had been educated at Beaumont he was not a Jesuit, nor was he the worldly snob wrongly imagined by chippy people who did not know him. In fact, underneath the exquisite exterior and the continental courtesy (his mother was Spanish) could be found a surprisingly humble priest far removed from the pompous grandee of popular mythology. Like many another young fogey, I was captivated by his charm, friendliness, hunting humour and old-fashioned good manners. He was exceptionally kind and generous, and he had a great gift for imparting confidence to insecure young men. In his contribution to this book, Nicholas Lorriman perceptively comments upon Gilbey's 'attentiveness to the individual, so that many people felt they had a special place in his affections'.
...
The principal pleasure of the book is its celebration of Alfred Gilbey's eccentricity. While some of the acolytes twitter on about the Monsignor's foibles in a slightly off-putting manner (shades of the Oxford barber slavering over Lord Sebastian in Brideshead Revisited), Professor Watkin treats them with just the right degree of sympathetic detachment. There are richly comic descriptions of Alfred obsessively rearranging the biscuit basket at the Traveller's; ceremoniously creating 'a rich mosaic' in packing his suitcase; and elaborately ritualising his toilet to the extent that he indulged in a 'second levée', which took up most of the monsignorial morning. His retiring at night was, we learn, considerably prolonged by the process in which he washed the eight half-crowns that, in pre-decimal days, he always carried with him. He would apparently go through his small change 'selecting images of Kings George V and VI in preference to those of Elizabeth II whose face on the coinage he described at this time, with affection not disdain, as that of "a pert girl"'.'

Excerpt from The Spectator review of Alfred Gilbey: A Memoir by Some Friends (2001)

The Viyella Range

Planet Earth (Manchester Square Demo) (Duran Duran)

Franco: Trad Style

This exclusive photo of Francisco Franco, taken from the cover of a Spanish historical magazine picked up this afternoon in Mexico, just screams trad style. The image is superb. Trilby...trimmed haircut with moderate sideburns...tie...v-neck jumper...tweed jacket with a 3/2 roll and patch pockets...flannel trousers with 2.875" cuffs...brogues...side-by-side shotgun. Does it get any better? Of course one wishes that in place of the slaughtered partidges at his feet there were slain Republicans, communists, anarchists, Abraham Lincoln Brigade volunteers, International Brigade troops, and maybe a Hemingway or two instead. Rather beastly of me to say so, I know, but the war in Spain was a high-stakes game and in a way we are still in it. Nothing is ideal. So remember: always compare and always connect. Francisco Franco ¡ Presente !