Prep Kit

Cocktail Prep

Prep Kit

The Official Formerly Preppy Handbook

tout le monde il est preppy

Palm Beach Polo Duo

West Palm Beach, Florida

Geo. F. Trumper Extract of West Indian Limes

When trusted colleagues tell me I smell like a G&T, it is usually because I injested a dozen of the bloody things the night before. Now I have an entirely different excuse.

At the suggestion of some Interweb colleagues, and that of my good friend Sefton who knows about these things, I recently took receipt from a New York City establishment of a bottle of Trumper West Indian Extract of Limes fragrance. Pictured (above) is the same bottle together with a pair of Brooks Brothers bathing shorts in Harbour Island Blue and Palm Beach Green.

Note the charming pink colour of the Trumper box. Here is the story:

The story behind the famous 'PINK LABEL'

It has been asked so often, "why does Trumpers Extract of Limes have a pink label, surely it should be green?"

We have to relate that once it was but during the Great War (1914-1918) supplies of the correct paper dried up and the only alternative available to Trumpers was pink, so pink it became and has remained so ever since. When a tradition stretches back so far it seems a pity to change it so when we decided to introduce a bath soap perfume with Extract of Limes we had no hesitation concerning the colour of the carton--pink.

I lack the language to describe fragrances, so I will leave it to Trumper themselves. The advertising copy proceeds thus:

Bright green bursts of life-force charge from the tangy sharpness of tropical Limes, while vibrant citrus flashes allow a gentleman's mind to surge with the majesty of life. And as every pore is infused with the zing and zest of freshly squeezed West Indian Limes, so an exhilarating thrill is marvelously bestowed.

Extract of Limes, first introduced in 1880, is a pleasant enough scent, cool and refreshing, ideal for breezy summer conditions. It does indeed smell of limes, as you would expect. However, you may also notice that it simply does not persist long enough on the skin. Like an orgasm, the initial burst of explosive pleasure is over in mere seconds.

Imperial Closets: Studied Oldness (3)

'For the Bush inner circle of advisers, men such as Budget Director Richard Darman, Treasury Secretary Nick Brady and White House Counsel Boyden Gray, the look is Studied Oldness. This is the "This-sportcoat-was-handed-down-to-me-by-my-grandfather-when-I-was-at-Harvard" crew. The model here is Claiborne Pell, the blue-blooded Rhode Island senator who, at age 71, still wears suits that once belonged to his father. As Jim Pinkerton, an official in the White House domestic-policy office, describes the noblesse-oblige approach to dressing, "The trick is to wear an originally good-quality shirt until it falls off you and the sweat stains become like tree rings. You might even use a length of rope from your yacht as a belt. None of this upwardly mobile thing for you. You come from ten generations  of money, and now you're doing a little public service. You don't give a damn."'

'Read My Hips', GQ, August 1990

Imperial Closets: A Tall, Fit, Very American Kind of Build (2)

'President John Kennedy once joked that Washington is a city of northern charm and southern efficiency. The stereotypical image of the capital is that of the old, fat southern senator wearing his ice-cream suit on a hot summer day and fanning himself with a straw hat. Washington was built on a swamp, and there's still more seersucker here than anyplace outside Calcutta. The Dixie influence can also be observed among presidential aides at play, wearing their Alabama State or University of Virginia sweaters tucked into their sharply creased jeans.

But George Bush, who boasts a tall, fit, very American kind of build, wears the clothes of his class--and well. In an essay in The New Republic, Alessandra Stanley dubbed Bush's administration the Ralph Lauren Presidency, claiming Bush's imagemakers had exploited the value of a large and attractive Connecticut clan brimming with the WASP aesthetics and pseudo-English gentility that Lauren has been selling to middle-class Americans for over a decade. Crested blazers, polo shirts, tennis sweaters, faded natural fibres. "The Bushes came by their subdued fashion sense the old-fashioned way," Stanley wrote. "They inherited it."

So while the president scorns fashionable duds--he still picks up running suits at Sears--he does have a classic eastern-Establishment look that suits the office he holds. Bush picked up a snappier look during his 1988 run for the White House. Desperately trying to shake his elitist-preppy-wimp label, he shed his buttondown collars, half-rimmed glasses and striped watchband. Now he favours shirts of solid blue or of blue vertical stripes with white spread collars, and shops for himself at J.Press and, until recently, at Arthur A. Adler. (It is a frightening thought that, since J.Press is owned by Kashiyama, a Japanese manufacturing-and-distributing company, even the president of the United States has been taken over by the Japanese.)

With the exception of a certain pair of lime green golfing pants, the president looks his best when he sports Abercrombie & Fitch-style rugged wear. It's hard sometimes to tell which he likes best, the fishing and the hunting or the costumes that such hobbies require. The president never looks happier than when quail hunting in Beeville, Texas, as he does every Christmas, wearing snake-resistant boots, camouflage pants and a baseball cap from the local dog kennel, and toting a shotgun. This look appeals to his "kick-a-little-ass" self-image, the same side that likes beef jerky and pork rinds slathered in Tabasco sauce.

It must have been Bush's flair for colorful layering that inspired the look of a photo spread of the Bush family at Kennebunkport in the March issue of Paris Match, "le plus populaire de Presidents." In a shot in the living room, Bush is wearing black cowboy boots, cuffed gray trousers, a red T-shirt, a green polo shirt and a gray tweed sport coat with a burgundy stripe. In a shot in the kitchen, where he is helping Paula Rendon, the cook, make "un gâteau traditional," the president has changed to a blue-striped work shirt and a gray herringbone jacket over a red turtleneck. In a third shot, on his speedboat, the Ralph Lauren president is wearing a rust-colored polo shirt and a white Nike pullover with dark-green chinos.'

'Read My Hips', GQ, August 1990

Imperial Closets: Washington Sartorial Standards (1)

Power Preps

'Washington, D.C., knows a lot about power but very little about clothes. Dedicated to the conservative business of politics and devoid of any bohemian quarter to provide inspiration otherwise, the capital breeds conformity. Year after year, decade after decade, the uniform for men remains basically the same: a gray or navy single-breasted three-button suit, a white buttondown shirt and a red tie. The mainstream here is J.Press, Brooks Brothers and Garfinckel's. Hickey Freeman and Hart Schaffner & Marx are getting out on the edge. Flusser, Armani and Boss are still considered the domain of gigolos and New York investment bankers.

"Anyone who shows any individuality is deemed a fop, eccentric or dangerous," says John Buckley, a Republican political consultant. "The Brooks Brothers dress code that wouldn't be to the minimum standards of Wall Street is the outer envelope of what they wear in Washington. There are entire categories of buttons for buttondown shirts earmarked just for the Washington market. Pleats didn't hit this town until 1987.

Roger Stone may be the only man in Washington with enough chutzpah to mix politics with high fashion. The political consultant, an aficianado of double-breasted suits and an investor in the pricey new Alan Flusser made-to-measure boutique in the District, takes a harsh view of Washington sartorial standards: "We're talking high-water pants, too tight in the crotch, black socks down around the ankles with a lot of skin showing, jacket sleeves that come down and almost cover the knuckles--the sort of look that's big with Chinese leaders."

Designer Flusser, who's based in New York and who franchised the shop in Washington, defines the difference between the two cities more diplomatically. While New York and Washington are both in the Eastern Corridor, he says, New York has been influenced by the international trends and Washington by the "Virginia Ivy League" look. Just as the women wear what one wag calls "contrived Virginia"--outfits from Neiman Marcus, patent-leather flats with bows, gold Chanel jewelry, black velvet headbands and  Hermès scarves--so the men who work in the capital lean toward a Dixie interpretation of the preppy look. "In the southern influence, there is a bit more of the Fifties idea of traditional business garb,' Flusser says, adding compassionately, "I would have to call Washington a single-vented town."'

'Read My Hips', GQ, August 1990

End of Summer Kit

I am shocked. Can you believe the autumn season is almost here? Summer has slipped away from me faster than a sober 24-year old blonde at a late-night cocktail party. There were loads of things I wanted to show you here. But inevitably I was side-tracked by a series of work-related events where, you might be rather jealous to learn, I had the opportunity to showcase my fogey endowments in the flesh so to speak rather than in this column. The fact of the matter is I wear a suit most of the time and my collection is quite dull, I can tell you. A solid line-up of greys and charcoals in diverse configurations. Summer is a great opportunity to add some flash and step out in prep style. In the photograph (above) are two summer acquisitions: a pair of flat-front Vineyard Vines trousers and a sky-blue Brooks Brothers linen shirt. Do you know what would go well with this ensemble? A pair of white bucks, that's what. But genuine delight is to be found in what is not revealed, so I suppose we will have to wait until next summer. The cycle continues.

Summer Kit

As a columnist I often receive e-mailed requests to post pictures of my summer kit. I tend to hesitate due to privacy concerns, as you can understand, but an occasional glimpse behind the madras curtain should cause no harm. The photograph (at left) represents a typical outfit. The shirt is Lacoste and the boat shoes Sperry Topsiders. The shoes, a gift from a now-departed lady friend, like me, have a dark sole. The shorts, in lobster seersucker, are a special acquisition from J.Crew. In the era of t-shirts, denyme trousers, and flop-flips, summer kit is a provocative uniform, I realise, but I am well-prepared to defend the gesture. Try me. Should you spot me at a local beach margarita shop holding court with my chums, come over and say hello. I will buy you a cocktail, compliment you on your smashing tan, and inquire after your family. I promise not to talk about the stock market. Can you feel the magic? Do not be anxious if at the end of the evening we find ourselves growing closer. The lobsters don't bite, usually.

Pink Pirate Cocktail Bermudas

© EB

Sailing Rig

In this exclusive photo I offer you a selection of my current sailing kit. Yes, it looks worn. That is because it is. Unlike some columnists, I actually use on a regular basis the clothing that I discuss.

I started sailing in small boats when I was a young man in England, Connecticut, New York, and the Caribbean. My family once owned a 42' sailboat moored in La Paz, Baja, Mexico, on which we cruised up and down the coast. My sailing activities today, however, are limited to occasional forays in a Harbor 20 in local waters.

I never caught the sailing 'bug'; sailing for us was simply one activity out of many. I find people who are sailing enthusiasts, like any enthusiasts, rather dull. By all means go sailing--but don't get boring about it! After all there are other reasons to mess about in boats. Yacht clubs, as you know, are a great excuse to gather with like-minded people and drink and be happy, and for me that is purpose enough.

(1) Navy fleece zipper vest from Pacific Fleece company. Gift from iShares wholesaler. Also used for tennis matches on winter days. Despised by family and friends.

(2) Red shorts from J.Crew. Heavily faded from regular use. Rottweiler teeth puncture marks on thigh area below rear pocket. Repaired.

(3) Sperry Topsider boat shoes. Acquired early 2000s and worn around the world. Regularly washed in salt water. Used for sailing, local errands, and romantic walks along the beach.

(4) Surcingle belt with sailfish motif from Leather Man Ltd.. Acquired in 2003 to commemorate large sailfish caught off East Cape, Baja, Mexico.

(5) Lacoste polo shirt purchased in 2007 in El Salvador en route to Peru. Heavily faded. Also used for squash and tennis.

(6) White visor with Seychelles motif. Acquired in Seychelles in 2008. Also worn for tennis matches.

Madras Friday

On these gloomy mornings, when a spot of colour is required, I turn to madras. Pride of place in my portfolio belongs to a pair of Berle flat-front shorts. Easily the most comfortable shorts I own. The rare candid photograph (above) depicts the madras shorts, a pink Brooks Brothers slim-fit OCBD, and a battered pair of Sperry Topsiders. I don't know about you, but I typically do not tuck in my shirt whilst wearing madras shorts; in fact I usually just don a white polo. The weather today should clear up well before lunch time, at which point I should be somewhere in downtown Laguna Beach, FT and G&T in hand, watching the tourists. If you happen to be in the area, do join me for a drink and we can discuss the important matters of the day. Suffice it to say, I do not have any client meetings today.

A Thing For Pink

Pink is my signature colour. If you consult my family and associates, you will discover I am known for my pink shirts. Brooks Brothers OCBDs, to be exact. I own three in the non-non-iron, slim fit style. In certain circles, these shirts are a veritable icon. For me, they are like a second skin.

Pink has long featured in my portfolio. As a young man I wore pink OCBDs and polo shirts from Lacoste and Polo until they fell apart. In fact, I still do. In the banking world of London and New York, I often wore pink dress shirts, usually with a spread collar and double cuffs, as did many of my colleagues.

I find pink striking and conservative at the same time. It complements my blue eyes and skin tone, especially in the summer when I develop a dark tan. My shirts generally receive a positive reception, particularly from women who seem to appreciate pink the most. The women in my life, I have found, actively encourage me to wear pastel colours such as pink, and to grow my hair long. For some men, however, pink is a controversial choice, especially on the West Coast where dark, somber tones such as black and grey predominate in business settings. I occasionally receive curious glances from them when I wear my pink shirts. But, outright hostility is rare. Recently, while queuing for a cup of tea at a local tea shop, I was bemused to overhear a confused little girl ask her mother why a boy was wearing a pink shirt.

In my closet, pink is not limited to just shirts. I occasionally don a well-worn pair of pink twill shorts from Vineyard Vines. And should you rummage round my wardrobe, you will uncover a pair of pink cashmere socks from Paul Stuart. In addition, I will admit, I also have two pairs of pink boxer shorts, whose colour is a result of a laundry mishap.

I wear the pink if not with pride, then with an insouciance borne of experience and trial.