Pierrepont Hick's Field Bow & Cocktail

I've never been gifted a bow tie - I've never invented a cocktail.

The folks at Pierrepont Hicks are some very nice folks. They gifted me their bow tie, the Field,which is made in NYC and sells for all of $59 . That ain't bad. I could swing $59 on my own but this affords me the chance to buy another belt.

A lot of men and David Sedaris won't wear bow ties and that's okay. Not everyone can pull them off. I didn't wear one until I was 44. I've made my stand about bow ties (and Sedaris) before so I'll just say the Field bow with the shantung silk backing is my new favorite. The green, blue and yellow with the orange really inspired me and I don't have an inspiration board. You gotta work for Ralph Lauren to have one of those.

So I invented a cocktail.

' The Pierrepont Hick's Field Stripper' is made from one part Manzanilla Sherry. One part Cointreau and a dash of Fee Brothers Orange Bitters. Add ice and stir. A lot. Get it cold before you try it. On the rocks or strain it into a martini glass and add a slice of orange. This is what the Field bow tastes like to me. Subtle St. Augustine oranges floated on a Chapel Hill green forest of pine trees and everyone's naked except for yellow cashmere socks.

If your boyfriend, husband or partner wears a bow tie - - this is a great present. I like the Giles bow too. If they don't like bow ties - - don't waste your time. But they just might like this cocktail.

Erin Go Beau

Isn't that the holy all of it. Ken Bruen

Off My Back: Primary Colors & Attitude

David Chu LINCS - Yellow (Gold) University Stripe Oxford

Class bow tie from El Paso Community College

Yellow university stripe oxford is a tough fabric to find. I've told you about this before. In fact, everyone who had it two months ago seems to be out of it. Nelson Mui of David Chu Design surprised me with this shirt last week while generously offering a venue for my interview with Robert Bryan. I gotta read my horoscope 'cause stuff like this never happens to me.

It's a beauty of a shirt. At 11 ounces (I weigh shirts as well as wear them) it's in the ball park of MTM but shy of the 13 1/2 ounces you get at Mercer & Sons (we'll get to Mercer next week). While the pattern matching yoke to sleeve isn't dead on --it's pretty darned close. That's amazing.

That's the great news. Bad news. It's made in China and you have to go to Dillard's. Whatever that is. Swear to God, never been to one. The shirt comes in a profusion of bright colors like Lime Green but it's still an oxford.

Primary colors. Blue, yellow and red. The Trad hallmark as far as I'm concerned. And it is with this observation that I pass along some advice. Never forget how you look to others. Got that? It may save your life.

I know a lot of you don't give a hoot about what other people think of you. And that's fine. But I'm talking about something else. When you're strolling around in a cardigan sweater, a bow tie and a yellow stripe oxford - you're sending a message. Robert Bryan does a brilliant job defining this in his book. He writes, "Because menswear is so precise, the smallest selections, such as bow tie, work boots, round glasses, or a fedora, can speak volumes about the character of the man who wears them."

I often forget what I'm wearing. Or driving. And that can spell trouble.

There's a lotta baggage that comes with this car. Never mind it's a 2002 model with over 100,000 miles on it and worth less than a Hyundai. I moved to New York City in this car and parked it in a midtown garage for a couple of months. Just before Christmas, the Golf Foxtrot and I headed south on the NJ Turnpike. I pulled into one of the first gas stations and when I got out of the car to fill up a young kid comes running over to me, "Full service, full service!"

I give him a credit card and he swipes it, sticks the hose in my tank and runs off to another car. I'm a quart low of oil (always) and I grab a quart I carry in the car (always), pop the hood and top off my oil. The windows are caked thick in some frozen kind of dirt from the parking garage. I'm looking for a squeegee but all the windshield wiper buckets are dry and there's not a squeegee anywhere.

The attendant comes back again, yanks the hose outta the tank and I ask, "Do you have any squeegees?" "No," he says handing me my credit card and receipt and off he goes. As he's leaving I say, "You call this full fucking service?" He stops and turns and says, "What did you say?" And I say, "You call this full fucking service." And he replies, "Yeah, well fuck you!" And I reply, for lack of any better words, "Fuck you!"

I hear laughing and turn to see the other attendants who appear to be enjoying this immensely. As I walk to the car, my attendant shouts out, "Merry Fucking Christmas!" At which point I try to be more personal and shout back, "Happy Fucking Three Kings! I get in the car and drive off. The Golf Foxtrot, who is not happy with my behaviour, lets me have it. That's another post unto itself. After she stops we ride in silence for two and a half hours.

Why did he go off? I dunno. Maybe the car and the Florida tags could have something to do with it. He was busting his ass in the freezing cold two nights before Christmas and I'm sure I was asshole number 37 that night. The Shaggy Dog Shetland, hi water chinos, pink socks and Bean Moccasins could have also added hi test to the fire. He was Hispanic. I'm Nordic. We both end in 'icks.' I'd probably go off on myself that night given the right circumstances--of which there were many.

Sometimes I forget how I appear to others. I also know I'm not how other people see me. Yet, I can barely see myself which may be part of the problem. So, tread easy in bow ties and cardigans and shirts of primary colors. Just because we're well dressed doesn't mean we have to be assholes about it.

She Taught Me...

... how to tie a bow tie.

When I joined Brooks Brothers I worked for a woman in this picture which ran in the employee newsletter. Don't ask me why I have it. We were close in age and while her looks were far from striking - there was something about her. That word duende or perhaps a better word for a woman, grace. In everything. She also taught me how to tie a bow tie.

I remember her answering the phone. Standing at her counter in a long 80's drop waist dress --she'd raise the receiver to her ear and reach with her other hand to gently pull her ear ring off. That pull was done with an elegance that was slow, deliberate and sexy and no one else saw it but me. At least that's what I like to think.

She taught me how to tie a bow tie around my thigh. Odd, I know but it worked. We didn't sell that many bow ties but whenever it was slow I'd beg for a refresher. She was shy and whenever a group of us went out for drinks she always declined. For some strange reason I felt I could tell her anything. One afternoon I told her about a job interview I had. Half an hour later the store manager fired me.

I wound up getting the job I interviewed for and never saw her again. I think I tie a pretty decent bow thanks to her.