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Showing posts from October, 2012

The Hunt

The Goodwill Find o' the Day:
19th Century or early 20th century riding bowler with trolley for hooking onto your hunt coat collar to keep it from flying away. Its crown is cracked. The grosgrain silk is rusty and the felt is a bit moth-eaten. I overpaid for it.
But I love it. It has a certain macabre slyness to it that hints at memories of other places and cooler weather and rakish sensibilities.
There were no hurt feelings at these foxhunts, no guilt about blood sport, no politically correct sensitivities. There was just good sport, lathered horses, dead foxes and good bourbon in silver cups.


I am a victim of my own organization.
This shirt has been hanging around for a year. It has become part of my critical mass of inventory. It is an Italian made man's shirt by Dolce & Gabbana.
I thought it would sell.
It was a sure thing to sell.
It didn't sell.
For three months, it didn't sell.
In September, I cleaned out old inventory. Some I put on final clearance prices. Some I must've pitched. I don't remember which category this shirt actually fell into. Because I sold it this week. And now I can't find it.
I turned my storage upside down. I moved through that closet like a piece of farm machinery.
I ran to the Goodwill and combed the aisles in the hopes of finding it--or something godawful like it.
I did not find it. (Though I found some other good stuff while I was there...)
So I sat and drank coffee and thought and looked at the mess I had made. And began picking the stuff up that I had flung about.
Piece by piece.
Refolding. Hanging u…

Hippique-Hippik-Outdoor Fun for the Whole Family

Finally! A W fashion spread with useful fashion ideas!  What appears to be a congenial, multi-generational outing on what looks like a  gorgeously grim autumn day practically smells of cold and damp furs and wool. If there were horses in this picture, it could be a print ad for my store, Hippique-Hippik.
As if the Gashlycrumb Tinies and the Addams Family were at the fox hunt.
I would feel comfortable at such an event, I think. Gramma's doing so well only a week after her ear-trumpet was struck by lightning, Cousin Reginald brought young Neville, that little bastard boy of his--(nobody knows for certain where he came from)--and little Wednesday looks all grown up. I have been wondering to what one could don that grand Louis Vuitton chapeau and well! Here we are!