In the days of yore…

14 Feb

… when I was still innocently yielding to the thrills of young flesh, unsure voices and inexpert lips, the problem of the socks seemed to have been solved once for all. Loose Burlington’s argyle was a necessary and sufficient solution to any sockwise sartorial trouble.

It’s exceedingly difficult to find a good picture since the Japanese high school girls seem to be the last masters of the Art of the Slouch Sock, and they don’t do argyle. I guess this one will suffice to convey the idea:

Loose argyle, short pants

Now, as you know very well, an infectious aberration is upon us, coming I guess from some frivolous admiration for the anti-fashion par excellence, the primitive semi-Neanderthals from Northern America’s great outdoors, the trappers. You are right, my little shrimps, I’m not that big on plaid. It belongs to the blanket on the couch of your aunt, you know, the one who smells funny.

Plaid is still everywhere on NY’s runway at the very moment I’m writing this. How disgusting.

Anyway, something very nice and unexpected made my week-end. Joseph Altuzarra is what happened. The good boy clearly had a problem with the plaid. His attempts are half-hearted and vague, a clear passive-aggressive response to the tyranny of the zeitgeist. Which is good, of course, since you may reluctantly put your ass on some plaid, but never ever in it, and Altuzarra’s propositions are certainly not meant to make you think otherwise. No plaid, we get it, I hear you mumble, but then what?

Argyle.

Almost better than morning sex

Genius.

Plus, probably traumatized like anyone by this winter episode, the good boy opted for a very clearly functional line, on the practical side of fashion. Modulo some breast cover here and there, give me anything from a good half of the collection and I’ll go to teach  in that RIGHT NOW. I mean it.

Joseph, I know you read me, please be a darling and send me any of those asap. I have nothing to wear.

WWII parka plus WWI skirt

Elk shooting then dowtown dinner. No need to change.

Dress, coat, boots. Want'em all.

Pics from FashionGoneRogue.

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5 Responses to “In the days of yore…”

  1. Stan February 14, 2011 at 2:42 pm #

    hahaha “Elk shooting then dowtown dinner. No need to change.” u certainly have a way with words my dear

    • Miss Eliza Wharton February 14, 2011 at 3:11 pm #

      This goes straight to my heart.
      Everyone, go read what Stan writes. It’s poetry. It’s effing good.

  2. Madame Suggia February 14, 2011 at 4:07 pm #

    I’ll have that WWII skirt please, perhaps in an inky indigo? Thanks so much.

  3. winnsome February 15, 2011 at 1:42 am #

    hey i’m glad you ended up reading my husband’s poetry i was accidentally logged in as him when i commented on your mad sense of humour 🙂 ahh the joys of sharing the same email address
    xx
    p.s. i’m following ur blog now and very much enjoying!

  4. Miss Eliza Wharton February 15, 2011 at 4:45 am #

    Oh, Stan’s your husband. Congrats then! You married a poet.

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