For Larry

For my dearest fan, here's a story related to her Ladyship this past winter by a "friend"

Fatty takes a hike

Had a lovely weekend at the cabin. I should have taken pictures; you all would have gotten a good chuckle. I strapped about 200 lbs of crap onto a sled and loaded it into Jeff's Kia and headed up Friday night.

At the top of the hill by the trash shed at 8:30pm (read very dark) it was freezing and very windy, I figured the road down was a sheet of ice so I backed the Kia to a snow bank and pulled the sled out onto the snow. As I tied the stuff onto the sled earlier that day in my office parking lot I thought, "shit, I'm going to have to get Cindy to help me lift this into the back of the K...uh-oh, how am I going get this out of the back of the Kia when I get up there"? Then I realized that there are steep hills along the road in places; I'll just back up to a snow bank and slide it out. Then (reality check #2) as an outdoorsy, rugged, cutie pie of a patient (who offered to help and didn't even blink at the proposition of dragging a sled, piled 3 ft high with crap, 2 miles to a remote cabin) and I struggled to lift the sled into the back of the Kia, I realized that the spare tire thingy sticks straight back when the hatch is open and I may not be able to back into a snow bank. "Hmmm...; fiddle-de-dee, just have to figure it out when I get there" I thought. I also failed to realize that most of those steep banks have trees and bushes, fortunately that didn't end up being a problem.

I got to the trash shed, after nearly sliding off Flannigan road at the sharp bend, and found a mound of snow where Tim (Log Cabin Guy) had plowed and, turned out it was the perfect height (divine providence #1) so I tied the three-tiered buffet server thing I got for just $9.00 at the outlets onto the top of the pile (yes I had dishes and crocks and a mirror and a framed picture and food and clothes and my brief case and ice skates all loaded on the sled) and pulled the sled out. Reality check #3, wind chill is real. Chuck's hat, while lovely and a treasured gift, is not rated for subzero wind-chills and it's not recommended to expose skin (read fingers tying damp rope onto a sled in the snow) to sub zero wind-chills for more than a few minutes.

After a ten-minute break and a wee bit of pain as I re-warmed my hands Ethel and I were off on the Gayditarod. I pulled the sled away from the Kia and flop; over on it's side it goes. Ok, so maybe it was a little top heavy (reality check #4) I'll just have to keep it on level ground so I'll go the long way down the steep hill and along the lower road.

I had figured that the descent would consist of holding the sled back as it slid down the hill in front of me. Tim had plowed and that meant ice that was pebbly so it was more like dragging it over gravel than over a lovely soft mantle of powdery snow. “That won't bode well for the ropes that wrap under the sled” I thought (Fiddle-de-dee moment #2). I had planned on them just becoming packed with snow and gliding along. Reality check #5; not all winter scenes are postcard perfect. But, the down hill drag was pretty easy, gravity is good. We got to the bottom no problem, no tipping, no broken ropes (divine providence #2). We turned the corner and proceeded along the lower road.

Fortunately the wind was from the west so I was now on the leeward side of the mountain, this won't...be...too ba....d. "Shit, this thing has a high coefficient of friction all of a sudden"; gravity is bad. It was a bit of a trudge now. The lake seemed to have warmed the river valley and the lower road was kind of slushy. In spots, there was even bare gravel. You're thinking about the ropes too aren't you? Least of my worries as I stared up the first incline, gravity is evil! 2?? Lbs, 44yrs old, no exercise for 15 years, a penchant for NY strip smothered in bleu cheese, a 500lb sled, an incline; NOT priceless. I paused every few steps to see if I had pain in my left arm and chest; I had already checked rapid heart rate, sweating and shortness of breath off the list of heart attack symptoms. Oh, and my cell phone battery was dead, not that I would be able to get reception to call 911 anyway. Not really a fiddle-de-dee moment, those happened every time I considered exercising in the past 15 years.

The ropes? Several broke but not the front to back ones that were in a slight hollow in the bottom of the sled, just the ones preventing lateral sway so the load stayed on the sled with minimal floppage and only occasional repositioning (divine providence #3).

On I trudged, endlessly. I was "Sissy"fus, domed to an eternity of dragging a load of lovely silver and bone china buffet service pieces up a never-ending incline on a sled. The clue phone rang and I answered! Reality check #6; I'm an idiot.

Finally, I faced my Everest, I stood at the foot of the steep hill just before our driveway and mustering all my willpower and remaining energy...fuck that "Outward Bound" perseverance/ego gratification psychobabble bullshit, I cut through the neighbors yard to avoid the climb (fearing for my life if I attempted the hill). I knew I probably wouldn't make it all the way to the cabin because of the slope of the neighbor's yards and sure enough just behind the blue house the sled tipped and I gave up. I left the stuff there, and exhausted, went on to the cabin unburdened.

Reality check #7, after all that effort I still have to freakin' haul a load of wood in and get a fire started. After a short rest to breathlessly check in with Jeff, I got a load of wood in and a fire going and then made about 8 trips back and forth to bring the stuff off the sled into the cabin (see reality check #6). My muscles were aching. I was exhausted. I resolved to start exercising first thing Monday but I was hungry and still had to make dinner. Of course, a big, thick, juicy NY strip smothered in bleu cheese. It was delicious!

I slept like a baby and woke up like an old man, my leg and back muscles were stiff and achy but it was a beautiful day, sunny and clear. The rest of the weekend is boring to read about. Brisk cold walks in the snow, a toasty warm fire, the quiet stillness of winter, a hawk gracefully soaring over the lake right in front of the cabin. It really is spectacular up there in the winter. Sometimes the solitude is nice but maybe next winter I can talk someone else into coming up. I'm sure I can borrow 2 sleds (reality check #8???).

Yes, you can wear a pre-tied bow tie!

My dear gentlemen of the chorus,

It seems her Ladyship was a bit over zealous in her condemnation of the pre-tied bow tie. As was pointed out to her Ladyship privately (again) it is indeed imposible to distinguish a pre-tied bow from a self-tied bow from the audience in a concert hall.

So, yes in fact it is perfectly acceptable to make it as easy on one's self as possible. No problem. Forgive her Ladyship.

If however you find yourself invited to a blacktie affair where you will be meeting your adoring public up close please do consider the self-tied version, her Ladyship still feels that this says that you are familiar and comfortable the customs of elegance and style. If you feel this marks you as a fopish dandy and that your manhood cannot tolerate this then do what you must for your deamons are not her Ladyship's deamons (and Lord knows we all have our own don't we) and she cannot therfore help you exorcise them...other than to refer one to Lord Whimsey who expounds on the perils of sportswear in his excelent tome, "The Affected Privincial's Companion"

With humility,
Lady Prisspott

Tim Gunn shows 'em how it's done

At the recent White House Correspondents Dinner Tim Gunn was in attendance seated at a table with Sanjaya (of American Idol and ponyhawk infamy), Eddie Izzard and RFK JR. Wouldn't you love to have heard the small talk at that table!

Tim Gunn, of course, made evident his impecable taste and unimpeachable knowledge by wearing a shawl collar. And, why was this the most correct and obvious choice for our dearest Tim, boys and girls? That's right, Tim was attending a formal dinner (NB "dinner" in "White House Correspondents Dinner") and thus chose to wear a formal dinner jacket. How do we know that he wore a dinner jacket? Correct again, it had a shawl collar which is the traditional style on a dinner jacket. You see my dearest ones, this is the sort of occasion that calls for a shawl collar, not a formal wedding, not a chorus performance or any other formal ceremony or performance. You wear a dinner jacket for a dinner and nothing else; it's that easy. Tim not only chose the correct jacket to wear but notice also that he is wearing a turn-down collar and self-tied bow tie. Her Ladyship hardly thinks it nescessary to point out the folly of the pre-tied bow tie; anything that straps on is not appropriate in public. The turn-down collar for the shirt is appropriate because Tim is not wearing white tie and tails, a wing collar is worn with the more formal white tie, wearing it with a dinner jacket would be ostentatious at best.

Consider then this baffon, the lap dog of Satan, who reveals his lack of taste by wearing a wing collar and a little boy's pre-tied bow tie (apparentwy him can't tie his own shoes wike a big boy either) with a dinner jacket. Surely this is not the example one would choose to follow, after all, this is what he seems to consider acceptable public behavior:









Now then, what about our dear Sanjaya? Is this attire correct? Well, hang onto your hats kiddies, it's not incorrect. It may not be elegant or the epitome of style but Sanjaya is quite young and thus can be forgiven his choice of a common bussiness suit for a formal dinner. Given that he is neither hosting nor a guest of honor this choice is acceptable if disappointing to some such as her Ladyship. The suit is well tailored and fits him well. The choice of tie is very good and overall he is quite presentable. In this instance youth affords Sanjaya more lattitude than would be granted a more distinguished and mature gentleman....like this one who is wearing a notched lapel, which as far as her Ladyship is concerned is a bussiness suit with inappropriately shiny lapels. Yes, yes, yes, everyone does it, Brooks Brothers sells it but that doesn't make it correct. If everyone else was jumping off a cliff... One supposes that this pampered Yale grad (barely) wishes to pass himself off as one of the common folk and thus chose this common looking tuxedo. This time , W you can truefully say, "Mission accomplished."

Warmest Regards,
Lady Prisspott

PS Sanjaya, her Ladyship has been calling and calling, she wants her signature hairstyle back!!!

What to do on a free weekend

Call up the mother of a friend (too much history with your own mother, this needs to be a new experience for both of you) and invite her to NY for a day trip. I just took a friend's mother to NY to shop for fabric.

Now this does happen to be for a gown I'm making for her to wear to the coronation ball of the Imperial Court of NY but think about the fact that this little lady school teacher (I exaggerate, I suspect a bit of the "flower child" in her past) who was last in NY 46 years ago and has avoided the place because it makes her nervous, is shopping there, with a big ol' drag queen, for fabric for a gown for her to wear to the most lavish, over the top drag event in the country which she will attend with her butch gay son and his husband.

The poor thing was scared shitless. Originally we planned to meet after work and take the bus. As the date approached she started taking more and more Valium...it wasn't working. She didn't have to meet me until 5:30 but, just in case, she took an extra day off work and went to the meeting place at 3:00 to make sure she made it on time. Well we made the bus and NY and got off the bus on the busiest corner of Chinatown at 11:30pm. Chinatown is pretty much always busy, crowded and noisy even at 11:30pm when nervous little old lady schoolteachers are arriving in NY for the first time in 46 yrs.

No cabs around so we walk to an uptown avenue to get a cab to the hotel. The streets outside of Chinatown were desolate. It's like that scene in SO many movies where the clueless innocents get lost in the darkest most desolate part of the city...it was 11:30pm, dark, desolate and we were exactly what the casting director ordered. I was terrified that I'd look over and see her melt into a shaking puddle of terror. We got a cab quickly though and got to the hotel.

We were hungry because we were both too nervous to eat after work so we tried room service; kitchen was closed for remodeling but surprisingly she was up for walking to a restaurant because we were close to Times Square; or she was about to collapse from hunger, I don't know which.

We finally found a place that was open and sat down. Waiter asks if we want a drink. "Do you have Glenlivet?” this little old lady schoolteacher asks the bartender. It's an Irish place, they had plenty, and she ordered plenty, "I'll have that and make it a double." Lady Prisspott, the haggard old, hard drinking drag queen orders a chardonnay. We had a nice chat on the trip up about sewing and what the ball is like and were chatting again when the band starts their set. Neil Diamond, Tom Jones, the Beatles, she loved it and is getting into it, singing along waving a chicken wing around to the music. Half way through her SECOND double scotch she's dancing in the booth singing "Pretty Woman". I thought sure they were going to call her up to sing with the band.

So are you seeing this? Bitter old hard-ass drag queen nervously nursing her chardonnay (warm, domestic and not a good year) while this crazy wild woman is tossing down 15yr old scotch 2 fists at a time and is about to jump up and grab the mic from the band and sing along. What a hoot.

"Well we're just a block from Times Square, you want to go see it at night?” I ask her at 12:30am. I'm thinking may be I should take her for a stroll in the cold air to walk it off a little. Her eyes light up, "yeah, I'd love it".

"You sure you're not too tired?"

"No, I'm fine. I usually get up at 5:00am we can sleep in tomorrow till at least 7:00." Off we go up Broadway. She's standing in the middle of Times Square looking at the lights twirling around like Mary Tyler Moore. Thank God she didn't wear a hat.

We caught a cab back to the hotel and slept like babies until 8:30am. We leave the hotel for our day of shopping and low and behold all the shuttered store fronts from the night before are the costume jewelry shops where I buy the 5lb rhinestone necklaces that her Ladyship seems to favor. We're having a blast window-shopping along Broadway checking out the jewelry that she says, "we'll come back and shop for after the dress is done."

We get to Mood (you have seen Project Runway haven't you) and immediately find just the right fabric but it's our first stop and we walked right to it so "let's look more and we can come back." So we go on. We find a shop a few blocks away and find the same fabric but better quality. I like this broad, she knows the difference. So the shop owner says he'll get the fabric sent down in 10 minutes, "how many yards?"

While we're waiting (sometimes I just don't think) I'm looking around. "Ooh this is nice. Oooh, look at this velvet; don't you love the drape? Oh, look at this, it's like what we were looking at but isn't it iridescent?"

"Oh, I like that. Oh, I really like that. Excuse me sir, we want this." Kitty says. Fearing the worst from a shop owner in the garment district in NY I try to explain that he's already cut the $150 worth of orange silk crepe (ORANGE! sheeesh, he'll never sell orange silk crepe). "No, I want this;" turning to a red faced, we'll call it grinning, shop owner, "We don't want the other one."

She charms the pants off this guy. Have you ever shopped in NY and told a shop owner you changed your mind? I mean even maybe after he's only put an item it in a bag, he hasn't even rung it up; he hasn't already called his wholesaler and had it sent right over, he just took it off the shelf and put it in the bag. He'll curse you out and kick your ass. I've seen it happen. "I want this one,” she says. The guy sells her the new fabric, gives her a bottle of water cause she's a little thirsty and brought her a chair to sit in while she waits AND, she didn't want the fabric he already cut for her that is God-awful orange and that he can never resell...and all but kissed her hand as we left.

We go to lunch. Midtown Manhattan 12:30pm the place is packed. Picture John Waters as your maitre d'. I'm serious; the guy is rail thin. Hair dyed that totally unnatural color of tar black with a pencil thin moustache. He hasn't been laid since 1969, and he's just a wee bit bitter about it. The man was attitude, refined and distilled into a potent liquor and served chilled. "Could we have that table (a four top) over there with a little more elbow room?" I turned to stone. There are two burned holes in the wall behind her head and every wall after that that you can see all the way to Trenton through. "Please, I'm just a little tired from running around and I need a little more room." The cramped people at the tables on either side of our intended table look up and suck in what they hope won't be their last breath. WHACK! He slams the menus down on a four top, in midtown at the height of the lunch hour. The waiter, grinning a little, asks if we want a drink. She orders a beer and he brings a mug nearly the size of a keg. I don't think the maitre d' has a lot of friends on the wait staff.

We finished shopping back at Mood where she picks out this crazy printed ultrasuede for gloves but it matches perfectly and looks like something Galliano would put together. I swear this girl's got balls and she's not afraid to be daring. The clerks at Mood were loving the selections. I was too. I can never get anyone to take a risk but this was daring for me! Oh, and on the way we stopped in at the place where the guy has a roll of ghastly orange fabric laying on the counter to get some fabric for my gown and she talks him down $20 on the price.

I'm telling you try it sometime. Had a total blast.

Colour Theory

"That doesn't match."

Have you heard that? Her Ladyship has. In fact, her Ladyship found herself engaged in a heated debate with her dear friend Ivy who maintains a blog here http://www.just-chuck.blogspot.com/ under the nome de plume "Just Chuck" about just such a barb. "Pink and navy don't match."

Do they?

What determines whether colours match? There's an excellent overview of colour theory in Wikipedia going into more detail but often the determination of matching or not matching is based on contrasts. Contrasts cause the visual cortex to fire more rapidly and create vibrancy which is often seen as pleasing; red and green, yellow and blue, black and white. Contrast in hue and saturation or intensity also contribute to the vibrancy that engages the viewer.

Her Ladyship asks her dear readers: Do pink and navy match? Let us know what you think.














There were many who thought Schiaparelli was more than a tad off the bead, was that the case when she designed her pink and navy circus themed line in 1938?
















Ralph Lauren gave it a try too, he's known for a classic traditional look, is pink and navy a classic or a clash?







Her Ladyship simply must know what her dear readers think, after all, you have the taste to read her Ladyship's blog surely therefor you have the taste to determine the answer to the burning question do pink and navy match?

The Only Rule is; There Are No Rules

Her Ladyship is often asked for the short and sweet rules of what to wear. Unfortunately her Ladyship is neither. When it comes to the so-called rules of formal attire, her Ladyship has confronted many opinions that state that any possible variation in sleeve length, lapel style, jacket style, etc. is perfectly acceptable. Of course, that’s the way our world is, everyone has a different opinion and the burning need to express it. So how do you decide who’s right, who’s got an agenda and who’s a pompous windbag?

Just goggling any issue on formal attire will bring up site after site giving you what the author seem to consider is the definitive rule but rarely is there concordance among them. One insidious trend seems to be some sort of postmodern sense of politically correct permissiveness. All manner of attire are encouraged as options for expressing one’s individuality. Curious is the fact that these authorities, who claim to be freeing us from the shackles of the past, all seem to think that if it’s black, it’s formal. If a black duster or Nehru jacket is permissible for a black tie event, why not red or puce? If you can ignore tradition in style why not ignore the tradition of black? This is what her Ladyship hopes her readers will understand, that there must be consistency in the reasoning used to arrive at a decision of what degree of variation or expression of individuality is best for a particular event.

Time and time again her Ladyship must point out that traditional is safest because a true gentleman does not call attention to himself. This standard evolved in the Victorian era and still applies. Think of this as the visual equivalent of the loud obnoxious party guest. If you show respect for your host and those around you by retaining a conservative, traditional look others will always see you as elegant. If you wear a garish cummerbund and tie set then your personality may be assumed to be garish as well. The phrase “timeless elegance” is what one should aim for and doesn’t this phrase imply retaining traditional values in dress and manner?

There is room for individuality and personal expression but it’s a matter of degrees and balance. Dictionary.com defines formality as the “condition or quality of being formal; accordance with required or traditional rules, procedures, etc.; conventionality”. If an event is one attended by traditional ceremony, that is, a set of behaviors and actions handed down through the ages, then so should attire be more traditional. The solemnity of an occasion is also a consideration. A solemn religious or state ceremony would imply greater formality. One wouldn’t wear a festive, brightly colored vest to a state funeral. The pomp and pageantry of the event should also be considered. The opening of Ascot comes to mind. One would not normally expect to wear a formal morning coat to a horse race but high pageantry is the norm at this event.

First and foremost you should follow the wishes of your host as stated in the invitation. It is only within these bounds that you can vary your attire but, the degree to which an event is governed by formal or traditional rules or standards, even expected behaviors and actions, is the degree to which one’s dress should adhere to tradition. For example, if one were to be invited to the awards ceremony for the Nobel Prize or the Medal of Freedom then one should wear white tie or a very conservative, peaked lapel tuxedo. (Shockingly, her Ladyship has never been invited to either so we don’t know if the invitation requests white tie specifically). If one is invited to a formal society wedding and the invitation states “black tie”, then one may get away with a notched lapel but peaked is probably a better bet. If one is invited to an event for which the invitation reads “fun formal”, as her Ladyship has seen recently, then those novelty shirt studs and cufflinks or powder blue tuxedo may have a reason to be seen in public.

If you know the crowd in attendance at an event and their sense of formality (some would say stuffiness) then the decisions about how far one goes in expressing their individuality are easy. If one is new to the social circle that will be attending an event then conservative and traditional will always be safe. At best, attempting to be noticed by dressing in attire that expresses your identity in a non-traditional way runs the risk of misinterpretation by a group of people that will be making a first impression of you. At worst one could brand one’s self a buffoon.

The simple fact that some web site or sales person or the office fashion plate has stated that something is acceptable doesn’t mean it’s always acceptable in all instances. There are no rules in formal attire or in dress in general, only traditions and customs. So, if some pompous windbag (her Ladyship knows what you’re thinking) starts quoting “rules” don’t listen. Educate yourself about what is traditional and how formal attire has evolved and make informed decisions. Her Ladyship makes every effort to avoid giving rules and rather attempts to educate her readers so that they can make decisions that display a classic elegance, an impression of ease with their choices and wear their attire with confidence.

It is her Ladyship’s opinion that this habit of quoting rules is why there is so much confusion about what to wear. There are so many conflicting opinions and indeed her ladyship’s advice may seem contradictory at times but this is because each situation demands different actions. It is only by learning how and why different styles evolve that one can make decisions that meet with the widest approval. Of course this learning takes time. One can look for short cuts but one should be mindful that there are pitfalls along this path. Then too, there are always the rebels that have philosophical (or is it psychological) issues with social customs who must follow guidelines her Ladyship cannot expound upon in this discussion. Formal attire is what we’re discussing and, coming full circle, formal by definition is an “…accordance with required or traditional rules, procedures, etc.; conventionality”.

Back to Basics

A little review of the basics never hurts and the question her Ladyship most often gets is about the different lapel styles. So, today we look at the lapel styles for tuxedo jackets.

This is for educational purposes only for the chorus because it has been decided that you all should have a notched lapel. Not her Ladyship’s choice but it is what is most widely available and what the majority already has. If you have some other lapel style look for a notched lapel when the time comes to replace your jacket.

The traditional and most elegant lapel style and, in her Ladyship's opinion, the most correct is the peak or peaked lapel.

The tuxedo evolved as a more casual answer to the tailcoat but at it’s origin retained the peaked lapel which is the only style lapel one should ever see on a tailcoat. Peaked lapels are also traditional on double-breasted jackets.

Peaked lapels, as shown here, have a sharp point extending above the collar. The part that goes around your neck is the collar; the part that is an extension of the front of the jacket that is below the collar is the lapel. The lapel laps back over the body of the jacket.

Notched lapels are what you are most accustomed to seeing. This is what you will see on almost every business suit and all manner of jacket. Rather than pointing up above the collar the notched lapel is cut off in a straight line from where it is sewn to the end of the collar.

The appearance of the notched lapel in formal wear was conceived by manufacturers as a cost saving measure. By retaining the same form as the business suits that are in highest demand and simply facing the lapels in satin they were able to produce both business and formal wear without retraining or retooling or even developing new patterns. The notched lapel is also somewhat easier to sew.

Although the notched lapel tuxedo is by far the most common it is also just that: common. It is a corruption of the traditional done as a cost saving measure. To her Ladyship, that says cheap. In so many instance people are willing to pay a premium for quality and feel that by doing so their image is enhanced. Why buy a Mercedes when a Kia will get you from point A to point B as well? If you can explain why so many men would choose the Mercedes then please explain to her Ladyship why so many men will choose the notched lapel.

Shawl collars. What to say? If you think a formal bathrobe is elegant then this is for you. The shawl collar is a collar, not a lapel because, although it is an extension of the front body of the jacket, it extends in one continuous piece around the neck.

This style collar is derived from the smoking jacket; a sort of formal robe that men wore in the 19th Century when they retired with other gentlemen for an after dinner cigar. Gentlemen wore smoking jackets to prevent the smell of cigar smoke from impregnating their formal tailcoats. It was lounge wear not meant to be seen in public, it was worn at home.

Early in the 20^th century the dinner jacket appeared and was worn at small private dinners at home or in the country. At that time it was considered very casual and one would not have dreamt of wearing it in public. In warm climates the dinner jacket was often seen in white. The dinner jacket has traditionally had a shawl collar owing to its origins in the lounging jacket (a.k.a. robe). As society has become more and more casual and it has become acceptable to dine at home attired only in one's ratty old boxers, the shawl collared dinner jacket naturally began to look very formal. Gradually wires got crossed, the world turned upside down and suddenly, men were wearing dinner jackets and lounge wear to formal public events. Her Ladyship is quite at a loss as to what to say other than one should reserve the shawl collar tuxedo for when one is invited to a dinner (not one that has an associated ceremony like a wedding or awards presentation) in which the invitation requests “black tie”. In today’s society such an event is rare and so should the shawl collared tuxedo jacket be concomitantly rare.

The shawl collar is also unflattering to the full figure. The curving line of the collar accentuates roundness; if the figure is likewise round it merely highlights and draws attention to this shape. Few men would benefit from such an unflattering comparison.

Lovingly,

Lady Prisspott