The Joys of Summer

Cascadia is settling in for the "90 Day Gray".  We had a nice December, but Mother Nature is making up for it now... cold... wet... windy.  So naturally, our thoughts turn to sunnier days.

Shark Reef Park - Lopez Island

It was early September - the best time to sail in The San Juan Islands. Mrs. Cascadian Prep and I were anchored in a little cove off of Lopez.  Just a warm and cloudless summer day spent on the foredeck reading and rocking gently with the waves. She - a bikini top and shorts from that lemon (lululemon?) place. He - Orvis quick dry shorts, sans shirt, and Top-siders. The other "she" - at Grandma's place. Could life get any better?

Suddenly, I felt the need to change the tunes and freshen my Dark 'N' Stormy, so down the companionway to the chart table I sprang. Upon my return, I noticed something else had changed.  Her Top was beSide her.

Life did get better.

Jay Ferguson's Thunder Island (I was a wee lad when it came out. Loved it then, love it now.)

Preppy Pajama Poseur

The Urchin of Venice

I was forced to watch "The Tourist" the other night.  Mrs. Cascadian Prep brought it home to watch - not for the story, but for it being set in Venice. My parents had just returned from Venice and it had stoked MCP's interest.  (I don't have an interest in Venice anymore than I have an interest in any over-touristed, smelly town. Trieste... now there's a town.)

Anyway, Johnny Depp spent considerable time running along Venetian rooftops in his "jammies."  It was at this moment that I realized I didn't have any official pajamas in my wardrobe... just the typical boxer/t-shirt set-up. Also, realizing that our family would be hosting a female exchange student soon and that I probably shouldn't be gallivanting through the house in such unsecured raiment [read "eminent wardrobe malfunction" here] I set about procuring a real set of PJs. 

The author's first set of real pajamas in two decades.

I landed on these from Lands' End.  And in the spirit of going big or going home, I got the double monogram - one on the shirt, one on the pants.  When I came downstairs in them to show off, MCP rolled her eyes so much and with such vigor, I thought she was having a seizure. That's fine.  She can harsh the PJs and harsh the double monogram, but we'll see if she ever gets to wear them now.

Seersucker in Seattle - GTH Pants?

For God's sake, when does it end? It broke 70° F here yesterday, so in a rapturous moment of summertime cheer, I busted out my Jos. Bank blue seersucker pants. I snuck these new babies into my closet, right under the nose of the Mrs. I found that when I procure new garb, if I can sneak the package off the front porch, get it out of the plastic bag and into my closet undetected, I'm home free. Well, not this time.

"When did you get those?" she asks wryly.
"Oh, I've had them a while. They've just been in the back of the closet." I reply.

"First with those red pants, now with the stripes? Can you say 'mid-life crisis?'"
"No!  I can't say 'mid-life crisis' and I won't, I won't, I won't."

An LA stomach with an Oakland badonkadonk

The rumpled writer in repose

I have to admit, I do, at times, resent living in a region where seersucker pants and jackets are as uncommon as the Oregon Spotted Owl, but come on, why should the South and Eastern Seaboard have all the fun?  And as far as the West Coast goes, California probably encourages seersucker to be worn to their famous garden and poolside parties. So WTF Pugetropolis?

That's OK, I'm wearing them anyway, but I probably will wait until the temperature hits the upper 70's/low 80's, when Cascadians are whining about how oppressively hot it is.  I will wear them when my fellow citizens are so tired and rundown from the heat that they can't muster a smirk or laugh. And if they do manage a chiding laugh, I will respond with a laugh and remember what that favorite of all seersucker-wearing icons - Mark Twain - said. 

 Against the assault of Laughter nothing can stand. - Mark Twain

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society. - Mark Twain 

Nantucket Reds in Cascadia

Just a quick little posting to say that my faith in Cascadians is restored... at least temporarily.  I donned my relatively new Nantucket Reds at the U2 concert at Qwest Field (Seattle) Saturday night and was met with compliment after compliment. Most kudos came from drunken rabble-rousers, but their words were positive, nonetheless.  Giant-sized grunge guys, middle-aged suburban women on a "Girls Night Out," and Vancouver Canucks fans down for the show all paid tribute to the "Reds." (Congrats to the Canucks who won Saturday's game of the Stanley Cup.)

U2's 360 screen from the floor of Qwest Field

a surreal experience

Since the Mrs. and I had general admission floor tickets (putting us on the crowded field), she appreciated my wearing them since she could see me a mile away - I easily stood out in a sea of blue jeans, baggy brown cargo shorts, and fully-tattooed legs.  There must be something about U2 which causes one to have an open mind because I really thought I would be jeered, not high-fived by my fellow Cascadians.

The pants are great, but you have to choose your venue wisely.  The U2 show was absolutely incredible, and they chose their venue wisely - a metropolitan Cascadian night. 70 degrees F, not a cloud in the sky... only stars and the dulcet tones of The Edge's guitar.

J. Press Your Luck

I just recieved this shirt in the mail a few days ago (the actual pictured below).  It's my first foray into J. Press. I ordered it in a drunken frenzy while on vacation with too much time on my hands (fun but dangerous). I read too many style blogs with writers from "Back East" not to notice that J. Press is Mecca for men's traditional/preppy clothing. So I just had to bring one home.

For some living in Greater Cascadia, wearing a tailor/institution like J. Press poses problems - the utter lack of recognition here being of chief concern. Downtown Joe, if asked, "What's J. Press?" would probably reply with, "Uh, um, is it some kind of device for rolling joints?"  Seriously, outside of those few Cascadians who went to school in NY or the surrounding states, or did a stint on Wall Street, or heaven forbid, like me, regularly muse in the writings of fashion bloggers, no one here knows J. Press.  



cotton madras short sleeve

Well, I aim to change that, so I started with Mrs. Cascadian Prep. Remember, a prep of any type, she is not, but she does love this madras shirt and hinted at my needing to get more. Get more, I will, and I will wear them proudly through the streets and in the offices of Pugetropolis, Portlandia, and "The Van."  I will push the envelope and Press my luck. For those of you out there who already know the joys of J. Press ownership and who travel to the Pacific Northwest or the Lower Mainland, join me and take up arms... wear your J. Press and wear it proudly.

A Good Gun...

...is like a good friend, a good dog, and a good woman. Take care of them and they will take care of you; treat them with respect and they will be loyal for all of your days; put them away in the closet and forget about them, and man, you are in a world of hurt!

the author's 1941 Winchester Model 12

I have been blessed with all four. Recently, my buddy, Stu, aka "Big Cat" from North Carolina, agreed to clean my Winchester Model 12. This is my primary shooting gun for sporting clays and pheasants. (It is also that thing that holds the corner of my closet up most of the time.) This gun was my grandfather's and was passed down to me when he passed several years ago. Ducks Unlimited's March/April 2011 issue pays homage to it, calling it "the most elegant and refined of all magazine repeaters."

My Model 12's serial number is 862490, putting its production year at 1941. I love knowing this because I imagine my grandfather - whose looks and character I tend to favor - buying this gun for bird hunting, only for that dream to be put on hold, while he fought in WWII.  He enlisted January 24, 1942 - 48 days after Pearl Harbor was bombed; but he didn't leave before he could help conceive my dear mom who was born nine months later (oowah oowah).

History and anything classic are admired by preps, but it goes well beyond that. History and classic family heirlooms are a part of us, define who we are, and are our tangible connections to the past. Cherish them, but don't forget to cherish your friends, your dog, and your woman, too.

Caswell-Massey in Cascadia

I first was introduced to Caswell-Massey 27 years ago.  One day, various assortments of its product line turned up in my dad's cologne/aftershave/hair products/prescription drugs cabinet, as well as in the kids' linen closets, bathroom drawers, and bathroom counters tops. It just appeared, out of nowhere, as a reckless array of flotsam and jetsam "smellum" and cream.

the author's recent olfactory acquisitions

Now, it would be verboten herein to disclose the fact that my dear mom worked, at the time, for "Tuesday Morning" - a retailer specializing in "upscale closeout merchandise." (So there there it is, I had a regular middle-class upbringing.) Forthwith this establishment, came my family's cache of C-M, and my adolscent view of it as a bedraggled retail misfit with yet-to-be-known provenance. This was Dallas 1984.

And so it is -  the Pacific Northwest 2011 - and I have reconnected with and have been re-educated on the fabled and unique history of this most famous of American brands.  "Thank you," The Trad, for without your sagely advice, I would not yet know that Caswell-Massey's  "No.6" (now my daily spray) was the cologne of choice for the original "Gee Dub" - Father of our country, and namesake of my current home state.

I bought No. 6 four or five months ago.  I really like it, but don't love it. Just last week, however, I picked up a bottle of "Greenbriar Cologne Spray."  WOW! An awesome and manly scent.  It's so manly, in fact, after I sprayed some on, I shaved 5 strokes off of my golf game, shot a perfect round in Continental Trap, and made a very positive impression  on "Mrs. Cascadian Prep" (more on her soon).  In other words, fellas, get this "smellum" and thank me later.