Resoling Shoes and Marching Band Interference

Two pair of shoes with sole holes.

I called Giuseppe to ask where he sends his, knowing that he had long ago smoked out the best possible value for the desired skill level.  "Savas" he said.  Perfect... so I put the shoes into a Ratsey Bag and hopped on the subway bound for Davis Square (Savas had Saturday hours).  Outside of the subway, I pushed through the throngs of alterno-marching bands which were gathering quickly.  When I reached Savas, the door was blocked by about 500 people and a large boisterous brass ensemble, and the business had closed for the day.  Should have called first, I guess.  Just my luck.

During high school, a friend was taking the SAT's one Saturday at a local school.  About 30 minutes in, a marching band began doing a dress-rehearsal outside of the classroom window.  Apparently, they marched back and forth for over an hour, which nearly drove him to a boil (he's regularly anxious about nearly everything).  I guess it didn't harm him too badly, because he went on to a fine school.

----

One of Boston's best dressed fellows recommended the spot he takes all of his (London-made) shoes.  I dropped them off at Rinaldi's, and was told to pick them up in a week.



A week later...








The brown pair:




Not bad, but I had to pay an extra $25 per pair for staying in Boston and not going out to Somerville for Savas.  The total was $150 for two pairs.  It was a good price for the city, but had it not been for the Davis Square marching band festival, I would have saved $50.


A different pair was sent back to Allen Edmonds a few months ago.  They offer full reconditioning and resoling for about $100.  To be honest, I thought that the replacement sole (the original was also rubber) was too thick and bulky.

Above, you can see that they did patch the inside of the inner back heel.  Their work is good, and they do a fine job of repairing any damage to the outer shoe, but the replacement was just too clunky compared to the relatively thin and pleasant original rubber sole, and the shoes look and feel heavier.

I spoke with the cobbler a bit, and he said that the resoling business is expanding noticeably.  He said it was "the economy".  Perhaps... but let's hope that when (and if) things turn around, the values and lessons learned will be kept and possibly passed to others.




***Please forgive the odd formatting.  Blogger is being testy.

Selvage Salvage

When this blue and white striped shirt died, I salvaged the cuffs, but there was still plenty of shirt left.

 

$5 later, the back panel of the shirt became a new large cotton pocket-square/handkerchief. 

----

For those of you who seem obsessed with the word "ivy"...

Boston is particularly beautiful in the autumn with its league of actual ivy.

Belts With Nouns On Them

Last week, the upstairs function room hosted a trunk show for member Nick Mannella and his array of belts and other belt-like paraphernalia, all of which sell under the name of Knot Belt Co. I picked up a nice number with lacrosse sticks and plenty of room, just in case I stop exercising and begin tripling my caloric intake.

You can likely find your school color

The young gent who runs the operation is a fine squash player and remarkably able to keep pace with older members and their odd pop-cultural references from the 70's and 80's.

Nick Mannella

His products are pretty solid and very reasonably priced.  Some of the nouns and combinations (dare I say "motif"?  No... I daren't) are classic references to old pursuits (sports, etc.) and some are cheeky puns which specifically resonate with certain activity participants... like ski bunnies.

If I could just get a picture of my belt onto my boat shoes, this one would be great.

---

When the weather gets cold, the indoor courts do also, and a down vest fits the bill nicely... brandy also helps.

I have a Brooks Brothers tie with two racquets (rackets, I guess) crossed, but I caught enough flack about it that I had to get the official triple.  Happy now, J.P.?

A pair of warm and comfortable socks from Polo (and NOT from the trunk show) that are sloppily made and were obviously at a discount.  Even beginner knitters do better.

At least my new Knot belt held up nicely... and yes... I paid for it.  As the policy of this blog is one of full disclosure, I received their "trunk show pricing" as did everyone else.  The proprietor Nick was also gallant enough to provide open bar for his show, which made the prices seem even lower.

Reviving Shirts VII

Two identical shirts in a small blue check pattern. One was the recipient of bleach damage from an obviously incompetent dry-cleaner during a business trip... the same one that ruined another shirt.  Since I didn't feel like sending this one to the scrap yard or to the surgeon, I decided to mix up a very strong solution of bleach and even out the spot.  A full dunk in the Clorox marinade and I now have an almost white translucent-check shirt with an over-all hint of pink.

Originally identical twins, now their details are the only indicator that they are related.

For whatever reason, I seem to have several sets of identical twins as friends.  Some have remained  identical into adulthood, and others would barely pass as related at all.

Concerning one set of twins who are very close friends me and my family:


Jan 1, 2008
Visited by [Twin 1] & [Twin 2].  Though identical twins, they make a point to differentiate themselves in dress and manner, and their efforts are useless.  In the end, the only thing that truly makes them outwardly different, are their self-unseen eccentricities.  The more they attempt to consciously separate, the more they seem like twin brothers, often reverting back to arguing, slapping, and punching, though both possess advanced graduate degrees from remarkable institutions.  Both are over 6 feet tall, intelligent, very thin, and while [Twin 2] is prone to ludicrous injuries (falling and cracking several ribs from not taking his hands out of his pockets to catch himself) [Twin 1] regularly finds himself in situations of such bizarre and unlikely detail, that the retelling becomes immediately legendary. [Twin 1] was asked to put together a pilot program on the Travel Channel, and used our fireplace for the backdrop of the monologue.  Spent the evening putting together cue cards, and setting up the shot. [Twin2] was director while I served as unskilled flunky. 


[Twin 1] has contributed to this blog in the past, and has become a well-known figure in men's style. A stickler for tailoring (necessary with his build), he cuts an intimidating silhouette with the exactingly elegant fit of his suits and shirts.  He is also known for his hand-made pocket squares.

Ralph Lauren vs. Brooks Brothers

A pleasant lunch with an old friend today gave me the chance to swing by the Ralph Lauren Store followed by an immediate visit (one block away) to the Brooks Brothers store.  I compared the mannequins... which do you like better?

Ralph Lauren

Five minutes and one block later...

Brooks Brothers

Some nice patterns and VERY heavy wool

Brooks Bros. first of three floors.

Brooks Bros. seems to be bringing out the very heavy wool this year.

---

I was lucky to see the following when it originally aired.  Forward to 0:50 for commentary on McLaughlin's jacket.  Pat Buchanan has a great line, but McL's retort is even better:



"Doubtless, a stallion."

Black trousers and a solid black tie on a yellow shirt... black velvet collar on tartan... very nice.  It makes me excited for the holidays and all of the parties.

Scraps and Oakum IV

 Sloppily assembled

 Self-writing joke

Still intact 

Minor conflict

Happy Halloween, all.   -YWP

Stonewalling

If you enjoy a stroll through the woods in New England, you will likely find stone walls. A very short moment in each year is the harvest.  Mechanized now, the harvest was once a near-panicked and frantic race for many seasons.  Making hay is even a risky venture with New England weather.  I occasionally bird hunt in up-state New York amongst the cleanly-shorn fields where some of the migratory birds glean the errant grains from the ground.




The labor is poured out, elbows and backs wear down... some will never be the same.  Toes and fingers are crushed, and shoulders on men both young and old pinch during a pre-dawn stretch. In April, it's still cool enough for hard work, and there won't be too many biting insects.  Burning stumps and brush tend to smoke the clothing, and at the end of the day, the clothes are better kept by the door instead of in the bedroom... it goes back on the next morning. They smell, but it's the arms and joints that complain the loudest.

Then... the field is used as intended... grazing, agriculture, hunting... if children find dead animals they poke them with sticks.  Season after season of harvests. Relatives and neighbors are brought in to pike and rope the assembled beams on a new structure... treenails are commanded home and Mother brings out sandwiches cut into triangles while water is gulped from ladles or tankards.

Years later, Father dies after a few years of being a grandfather.  Mother goes ten years after.  The children have moved to the town with the grandchildren and the cousin takes over the farm.  His ruined shoulder kept him out of the Great War.  He scales back the production and leases more out.  Buildings start to age, and the barn roof will go three seasons too far, first bowing, then sagging, and then opening up.  Equipment rusts away and wood rots away.  The land is long since grazed, and saplings take hold like bacteria besting a neglected wound.



The land returns to forest, and the cousin, now elderly, occasionally walks the stone wall, remembering his childhood and the seasons of building it.  He saw a bear a decade ago, but not since.  Coyotes are returning. He remembers his uncle sitting on the wall smoking a pipe, he remembers acorn-throwing play-wars with the other children, and he thinks he remembers hiding an old pocket knife somewhere in the stones.  What was the hen's name?  The milk cow was named "Seffa".  Everyone and everything has changed, nieces and nephews rarely visit or write, and the others are dead.  The wall has held up better than any of them. Those damn stones. A nice young doctor from Concord wants to buy the land... thinks he'll start an orchard. He must be as dumb as the wall itself.

All photos are Eric Sloane illustrations.