©twmcdermott2010
Prologue
I once worked in a company owned by a very nice, very smart man who always wore a bow tie with his suit. He was in his sixties and portly; the bow ties looked so natural on him that I could not have imagined him wearing a longish necktie.
One August, over twenty years ago, I was invited to attend his birthday party during a business convention in Las Vegas, of all places. I say "of all places," since that particular town does not spring to mind when you think about men who favor wearing bow ties without the tux; also, one is never eager to visit that place in high summer, if at all. On this occasion, I thought it would be fun to buy a bow tie to wear to the party, and so I did (shown above), despite the fact that I had previously only worn them, like most men, to formal affairs.
Funny thing, but, after finally succeeding in tying it in the hotel-room mirror, it immediately felt as though I had been wearing bow ties my whole life. Funnier still, people at the party thought it looked just right too with my navy suit, and my old boss was very pleased at my effort.
And so began my bow tie years.
Some Can, Some Can't
There does not appear to be any particular rule about who might look good in a bow and who might not. Some tall thin men can, some cannot. Some short and stout ones cannot, some can. Some men with full chins can pull it off, others appear too have added one too many chins. Some can only wear them at weekend parties, or when professing to a college class, while certain others can wear them all the time: for business, at the club, saving democracy, or sitting in a favorite chair reading a book.
Truthfully, there was some disagreement in my immediate family as to which group I belonged. I thought that I looked pretty good in just about every situation. My spouse, daughters and son disagreed. They thought it made me look nerdy. Most business colleagues seemed to enjoy my wearing bows and thought they gave me a distinctive style, but several eventually admitted that they were embarrassed when I wore them to meetings with other companies.
Despite the lack of unanimous acceptance, I always felt comfortable wearing a bow and acquired quite a few in various styles and sizes.
Favorites, And Not
My trusted standby was a navy with white dots (left/top), which we might call The Churchill. I wore out a couple of these. Whenever I saw a good one in a store, like Brooks Brothers or JPress, I bought one. How do we define a "good one?" It's silk, of course, and it may be unlined or have a thin lining, which affords ease in the tying (more about that later, don't panic yet). It should have either a sliding length-adjuster or a small t- hook that fits inside a marked neck-size.
As with "regular" ties, the idea here is not to attract attention away from you. So, loud colors or intricate patterns are to be avoided. You begin to see, then, the beauty of the dot ties: achieving timeless style through simplicity of design vs. making a fashion statement.
When I now look at the bow ties remaining in my collection, I do wonder what I was thinking about when I wore or purchased some of them. One in particular stands out (below right), because of its large size and bright colors. It is hand-painted silk from Dunford Wood in Oxford and I bought it in Harrods. I have never worn it.
Fit To Be Tied (the expurgated part)
Men who favor bow ties have a secret: they know how to tie them and you don't.
Perhaps you still have your friend or spouse tie those formal bow ties for you. That can be fun. We assume that nobody in our audience would even consider having one of those "pre-tied" things. That would be a travesty. Some of you might even have a bow tie hanging in the closet, but you just could not understand the instruction booklet that came along with it. That is understandable; we've all been there.
Here is the thing: you can overcome this problem without therapy or even tears. Our suggestion is to try tying it yourself a few times any old way that you'd like to try. Don't try this fifteen minutes before a party is to begin or your train is set to leave. Do it in your own free time. You might even get very close to success by yourself.
After that, you're really ready for some expert instruction:
http://www.beautiesltd.com/category/how-to-tie-a-bow-tie-instructions
Yes, these are the best instructions available. Be patient, go slowly, and they will make perfect sense to you after a few tries. Once you get it, it is like riding that proverbial bicycle; your fingers will not forget. You will be able to tie one, while siting in your airplane seat about to land in London, Hong Kong, or Timbuktu.
As your style evolves along with your life, our rule is: step bow-ldly, but lightly.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Too Small To Fail
Snails
Consider
snails:
shells
for tails.
It must
be strange
when,
home is
your range.
Mobile trailers
for snail hims
and snail hers.
Salad chompers:
breakfast, lunch,
and supper.
Garden
grand tours:
lettuces, chives
and les fleurs.
Then, it's
garlic, heat,
some Pernod.
Voila!
and now
they're escargots.
copyright2010/twmcdermott/therareburgher
Consider
snails:
shells
for tails.
It must
be strange
when,
home is
your range.
Mobile trailers
for snail hims
and snail hers.
Salad chompers:
breakfast, lunch,
and supper.
Garden
grand tours:
lettuces, chives
and les fleurs.
Then, it's
garlic, heat,
some Pernod.
Voila!
and now
they're escargots.
copyright2010/twmcdermott/therareburgher
Friday, March 12, 2010
Three Winter Tales: Caps, Boots, Coat
Civilized readers of this column might be amazed to hear that there is anything good about winter. Civilization progresses more smoothly when people have a chance to shed clothing, not layer it on. But, this winter I did discover three ways to ease the pain:
I have seen many men looking great while wearing a watch cap: all of them were outdoors when wearing one. The other night we saw a fifty-something guy wearing a striped one while standing inside at a restaurant bar. He looked very silly.
To be honest, I have never looked particularly good in one of the many woolen hats/caps that I have tried wearing. The last couple of years I've tried two Patagonia models: one dark green with a peak, the other black and worn tight to the head. They just kept me warm.
The watch caps shown about are made in France by Saint James; they will change your watch cap life forever. The sizing and ribbing allows for the perfect combination of fit, comfort and warmth. Even my wife says that I look good in them. That, friends, is a tremendous accomplishment. In all likelihood only the French could have done this for me.
I bought the red one at The Royal Male in Newport one blustery day, then bought the navy and black at the Saint James shop on Madison Avenue (79th & 80th). I now guard them with my life and have been known to wear them comfortably and confidently in the privacy of my home.
I strongly urge you to procure several of these for next fall and winter. They are a great value at around $30.

When my taste buds begin to tell me it's time to eat something covered in chimichurri sauce and share it with friends, I get into my little red jeep and drive to Costco* to buy rib-eye steaks. This happened one day last December and that is when I saw the coat pictured above.
As with love, you find classic style in the most unlikely places. Costco turns out to have some sense of style, either by design or mistake. Who knew? This WeatherProof coat lay on a table with a hundred others in three colors: black as above, and two shades of brown.
I bought the black one for $40 so I could be warm while walking the dog late at night in winter. My twelve year-old Barbour ceases keeping me warm at about 35F and I never bought a liner.
This coat has performed superbly all season long, so much so that I just wear it all the time, even over a grey suit. At the train platform it has been mistaken for a Zegna or Prada coat costing thirty times as much. The coat has a very simple design with only two unobtrusive pocket zippers showing in front; it has an interior zippered liner, comes with a hood, and is waterproof. If Jill Sander designed a discount store line, this would be the one.
You may remember that the dimwits who make this coat tried to sleazily capitalize on a Times Square photo of President O wearing one. Shame. But, it's a hell of a good coat for forty bucks.

About ten years ago, while walking past Britches, a shop in New Canaan, CT. with my daughter, I spied a pair of brown boots in the window. They turned out to be semi-waterproof leather field boots made in France. They were expensive, a little roomy, and I bought them.
Over the years this snap decision did not bring great results. The arch on the boots was just too flat; a thin sock left too much room in the toe and a thick one left my instep aching. These are lifelong shoe afflictions. I have written about this trouble before and will do so again.
My eventual solution (above) was to purchase a pair of Timberland black leather waterproof boots. The interior sole has warming insulation and the arch support is excellent. These boots are as comfortable as boat shoes and can easily be worn without socks. They are actually waterproof, meaning, friends, that they keep water out without your having to wax them.
I bought them for about $100 on Broadway in Soho, NY last spring. I had been wearing those uncomfortable French boots that day, and upon leaving the shop, I gave them to a man who was collecting money for the homeless. He must have been happy to get them, because, when I looked back I could see him struggling to get them on. Hope he doesn't have high arches.
* A note to my butcher friend, John. As you know, when cooking for 2-3, I only use your grass fed Argentinian-raised beef, as advised by The Master, Francis Mallman in his brilliant book, Seven Fires.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Bumper Stickers We Would Like To See
RareBurghers are not into placing bumper sticker messages on their vehicles. Actually, most of us are not into vehicles very much at all, except as necessary life accessories. If anything, we tend to display signs from some of places that we love. But, since we've seen some particularly dumb fender messages recently, we decided to imagine what messages some RareBurghers might want to send, if they were so inclined:
- "I have no idea what my child's marks or SAT scores are."
- "I'd rather be right here, driving this old truck."
- "Live Free. Or Diet." Alternate: "Live Free or Diapers."
- "Honk if your horn's been disconnected."
- "If your boss is a Carpenter, you are a Nailhead."
We're fairly sure that we'll see more of these soon; it's a good way to fill a slow Monday morning.
Real Fifties Style: Peter Gunn

One day last October I was walking down Madison Avenue wearing a light grey worsted-suit, a white Thom Browne/Brooks oxford button-down shirt, a black Italian-knit silk tie and black cap-toes. I bumped into a young man, a travel agent who used to work on my staff, who remarked how "Mad Men" my "outfit" looked.
It took me a moment to realize that he was referring to the TV show, Mad Men, about a Fifties' era ad agency. Wearing grey, white and black was a perfectly regular thing for me to do. It wasn't my Halloween outfit as he may have thought.
I mention this, because it came to mind as I began watching old episodes of the noir detective show Peter Gunn (1958-1960) on Netflix. If you want to see what the really cool Fifties looked and sounded like, then watch Craig Stevens portraying Blake Edwards's alter-ego private eye and listen to its jazz track.
If you're put off by the idea that Henry Mancini created the soundtrack, you're making a mistake. This isn't the Moon River Mancini; this is the one who listened to a lot of classic jazz and softened it up just a bit for TV, but not much. You can sample it on Peter Gunn/Buddha Records 1990. You should recognize the Peter Gunn opening theme no matter what your age.
If Stevens's Pete and Mancini's jazz are on the cool side, you will find Edie, Gunn's love interest, played by Lola Albright hot. She is hot the old fashioned way, by not trying too hard. Even better, she can sing, as she does at Mother's, Gunn's favorite jazz club hangout. We're still searching for Lola Albright's recordings, but here's a sample: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S4jFd0XYYb0
A lot of ingredients conspire to make this show seem authentic today and not just nostalgia; the principle one being that Gunn's "wardrobe" never looked like one and still doesn't. He's a Cary Grant-type, who might not call his mom every day. The style holds up today as well or even better than it did fifty years ago. He wears suits in varying shades of grey, always with a white shirt and a solid black tie, tucked in at the beltline. His suit coat shows just the white edge of his pocket square. The trousers are rarely held up by a belt; instead, Gunn favors a tab close and wears them high, as if with braces (which he would never be caught shot dead or alive wearing).
If you grew up in the Fifties, the black and white film will add to the show's natural feel. That's how our youth looks to us, at least through the Beatles' It's A Hard Day's Night. Shows like Mad Men simply do not feel right to us. Their washed color looks as if Ted Tuner had gotten hold of it in his colorization lab, or about as real as Beatle Paul's latest hair color. Our kids can tell us a million times that the world had color back then, but, if you're smart, you won't listen to them.
Peter Gunn's plots are simple and somewhat repetitive. There are many killings, but no gore. There is much implicit-only sex between Pete and Edie, yet somehow even it seems more real and better than the current fake steaminess that surrounds us on TV today. Blake Edwards's dialogue is spare and at times borders on the campy, especially when Herschel Bernardi's Lt. Jacoby speaks. It works just fine.
Watching these shows, one is tempted to think that it would be great to have an updated version of the show or, perhaps, a feature film. Upon reflection, however, it would be much better to simply leave it alone. Investing $100million or so in a film, with a track by Jay-Z, starring actors who would only be vague impersonations of Pete and Edie, is a very depressing thought.
Please don't forward this to any Producer friends.
http://www.museum.tv/eotvsection.php?entrycode=petergunn
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Gunn
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Winter Olympics: Gold At Albertville, '92
Thankfully, I have only taken one police-administered breath-a-lizer test in my life. This happened in France in January 1992. I had driven up to Courcheval 1650 from Albertville, and toured what would become our group's Olympic home one month later, the Hotel du Golf. Naturellement, I lunched outside in the sun with Henri, the hotel's owner. It is my recollection that we sampled some local beaujulais, which Henri cooled in the snow. The yellow scarf pictured above witnessed the whole thing.
I wanted to return to Albertville before dark, because I was inexperienced at driving those vertical roads with their constant twists and turns. I had only begun to learn the art of alpine driving, having negotiated sleet and fog coming up to Albertville from Lyons.
I remember little about that first descent, except that it was wonderful to come down through the pretty towns, like Moutiers, below Courcheval. But, exiting one of the the last sharp turns I ran into du lineup gendarmes: a surprise alcohol level test. This is great, I remember thinking: big time corporate events leader arrested in France on a DWI. That would make a nice pre-Olympic headline.
But, Friends, this was pre- Olympic France. I do not know what my score was that day, but they did not retain me or even scold me. I had a gold in my first Albertville event.
Later, my Olympic job became Chief Driver, since all of the Renault Espace vans had standard shifts located on the column. I was one of very few who could drive them, making many trips to and from the airport in Lyons and the train station in Moutiers, not to mention Albertville itself.
One sunny afternoon, my colleague John and I watched hockey in Meribel. Afterwards, we stationed ourselves at a bistro, where we could watch the ski-jumpers high above us across the road and sip our wine.
When we got back up to Courcheval, I realized that I had left my yellow scarf in the bistro, and John wanted me to go right back and retrieve it. Instead, I said we'd try the next day. This was typical of our respective working styles. John, a former army Colonel and MP never left anything undone or unplanned. My somewhat looser system could annoy him, but he had slowly come to trust me anyway.
Late the next day, on our way to watch the ski-jump finals in Meribel, I stopped by the bistro, made my way through the crowded tables filled with attractive brightly-clad skiers and spectators. There, hanging on its peg, exactly where I had left it, was my scarf.
As we crossed the road, John just gave me one of his looks and a slight shake of his head, amazed that nobody had walked off with the scarf.
I had won my second gold at Albertville.
Note: for a look at the trois valees area above Albertville, please go to: http://www.courchevel.com/img/plans/plan_pistes3v.pdf
Monday, February 15, 2010
Little Black Dress
Before making light,
God cut
a piece
out of the charcoal night.
held it
in one hand
and waited.
When the sun
had grown
white hot,
God shook the
dark form,
and beheld:
the little
black dress.
Then God
looked about
for tan shoulders
on which to
perfectly drape it.
The rest
is herstory.
For Ingrid Michaelson
Copyright 2009/TW McDermott
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)











