"Go-To-Hell" is Risky Business

Richard Westall's Sword of Damocles

Maybe because it's because I live in the sartorially-sheltered Northwest (we do have either mountains or water on every side), but I only just came to understand the phrase "go-to-hell" [insert article of clothing here].  Examples, "I wore my 'go-to-hell palm tree belt' from Eliza B last Friday," or "Did you see his 'go-to-hell' corduroy holiday pants last night at the Christmas party? What a chump."

castaway clothing

Well, I love this term and shall use it regularly. I believe it aptly conveys the spit & vinegar attitude one must have, at times, while trying to cultivate his or her own look.  Tweed & Velvet posted an excellent piece on the very subject (outclick here.) I can't tell where the writer is from in looking at his profile, but I highly suspect he is not a Cascadian. Therefore, I offer my own humble, Pacific Northwest perspective on going to hell with one's clothing.

The author is reminded of the dialogue between Joel and Miles in 1983's Risky Business.

Joel, you wanna know something? Every now and then say, "What the f**k." "What the f**k" gives you freedom. Freedom brings opportunity. Opportunity makes your future."

Say "what the f**k."... If you can't say it, you can't do it.

I know that the hair of the horse is thin and the sword sharp, but I would risk its peril to know what it's like living in an area whose people clad themselves as colorfully (and quirky) as they really want to be. 

So Go-To-Hell Seattle, Go-To-Hell Portland, Go-To-Hell Vancouver... and say "WTF!" It will bring you freedom, opportunity, and a brighter future!

The Belts That Launched A Thousand Quips

This a men's fashion blog is not. However, from time to time, great insight into the progress of the cultivation of preppiness in Pugetropolis can be achieved by examining the reaction of those around a Cascadian prep in the (re)making. For example, the other day I wore, for the first time, my new brown hoof pick belt. I love this belt for its uniqueness and rough-hewn qualities. So when I happily strolled through the office like the cock of the walk and was met with sneers, jeers, and general derision, I was utterly crestfallen (NOT).  Now, I realize their expressions may have been for me (the person) and not me (the belt), but in this instance, I knew they were harshin' the belt.

The author's belt shot a la Maxminimus

Incident #2 occurred the following day. This time with my new custom Eliza B. D-Ring Motif Belt.  Again, laughs, smirks, and double-takes abounded. I mean, WTF?! How could you harsh this belt?

Lesson Learned: a Cascadian prep's work is never done.  If we are going to raise the bar in Cascadia (or anywhere for that matter), it's going to take fortitude and perseverance... and perhaps a whole lot of immigrants from CA, The South, The Midwest, The Southeast, The Mid-Atlantic, and New England.  Cheers!