Pendleton + On + On.

Still? Still? Still.

I've always said that paying attention may be overrated and could be the surest way to get yourself into trouble, but these latest innovations in menswear really have me fidgeting. Plaid, flannel, check. Tartan? Pair it with a bag (you guessed it) and some tights. Wash, rinse, repeat and the most important step of all is of course repeat.

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I'm going to have to be oh so very subtle about this, but I am all over this stuff right now. Purdey! And yes, I am thinking something in a pocket square. A pocket square that refreshingly doesn't resemble an oil cloth.

It's Always Switched On.

I'm not sure who is behind this trend of "If you disagree with my malformed and ignorant views then you must be a filthy elitist snob" but I am beginning to think it may be Yahoo news. One of the overfed lumbering IT dweebs at my work mentioned one day that yahoo users are by and large dumber than gmail users. I thought what an incredibly pompous statement. But after reading this drivel (the comments that haven't been moderated out) I think there may be a shred of truth to it.

Thoughtful, considered and nuanced thinking has always been brushed aside in favor of reactionary sensationalist declarations, but Sarah Palin somehow made it fashionable. Like anyone who can utter a controversial unsupported but nonetheless populist claim (does using big words like 'populist' make one a snob?) should be given a platform. And applause. Mustn't forget the cacophony of spirited mindless applause. And if the sub-literate ramblings are delivered in a down-homey tell-it-like it is drawl then we have what the superstitious morons of this country call scripture I believe.

I have no idea who Glen Beck is and frankly I have more important and dare I say intelligent things to do with my time. And I'm not embarrassed by the fact that I can read and articulate things. Nor do I think anyone should be.

But the sad fact is that people of this "I am shrill and patriotic and therefore correct" ilk inevitably breed before their life is quite predictably extinguished in a wild blaze of stupidity like a huntin' accident or an off-roading extravaganza gone tragically awry. But the point is they breed as readily as they shit. The stupid ones always breed before they figure out that the barrel should be pointed away from the face. And this I fear may turn natural selection on it's head.

So the next time someone calls me an elitist snob for simply asking that one substantiates one's claim I'm going to stand up and say "Yes I suppose I am a snob, I also disregard my own feces, but neither of these facts would render anything Glen Beck or Sarah Palin says true. Or even thoughtful.

Such leaps of evolution are easily missed.

Soft Ripples Of Potential Energy.

Always had me a soft spot for something a little Chanel! The name does smack a little unfortunate, but provided it's devoid of the lumberjack vibe (which it is) then I'm on board. Ahoy matey!

Where Else Is There?

Been listening to the Best Coast Crazy For You of late and have found it quite enjoyable. Mellow, textured and easy on the ears. Nice accompaniment to a cozy murder mystery and a glass of tea. No sugar please. I will not even mention how hard it is to find a decent cup of tea here. Luckily fresh music is somewhat more accessible.

Accessories & Literacy.

I do not know why this tickles me so much, but it just seems there aren't enough people who have jumped on the designer coke spoon scene. This solid silver (pic is in gold) McDonald's inspired number from Ju$t Another Rich Kid strikes my fancy at the moment.

I haven't managed to bust out my I Fucked Paris Hilton JARK tee since I've been slumming in the Ho. I did pack it in anticipation, but it just doesn't strike me as topical, but this little number reminded me of some of the gems I have lurking at the bottom of drawers and I may have to just give it a whirl Maybe in front of the gardener.

Oh You Just Missed It!

Only a few moments outside of Malibu and people are already talking about the new Free City in Hollywood. Of course you read about that here long before now, but it's nice that someone is taking a little notice. I hope this doesn't mean the practiced dog pile that comes from God knows where any time a shop is blogged about.

The new Free City is definitely going to be one of my first stops when I get down there. I liked having the shop out in Malibu. It added to the off the beaten-path mystique. Once Compadre and I almost got lost in the canyons driving up there the "back way" and it was always a sense of adventure heading to the beach and not knowing what you're going to get when you get there.

I'm sure this shop will be just as fun. I just hope Compadre is wrong and this isn't the "beginning of the end". I think they are just enough left of center to avoid being lumped together with the also rans. Fingers bloody crossed!

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More retail news.

The guy that started this place takes after my own heart. And based on the location he may have actually picked up a few pieces from me on ebay... Jerk. : )

Who Is Looking For Never.

I have no idea how I missed this. All these years watching and writing about baseball and I never noticed this gay baseballer's blog. Great anecdoates, bitchy comments (the best of which I suspect have been deleted drat) and hotness. All up and down hotness. Enjoy!

Who Is Going To Hype Me Now?

Nigel Cabourn, I'm sure you've heard of because he's now stocked at about 312 stores stateside and no one seems to be quiet about him. All the usual suspects carrying everything you would expect every other usual suspect to carry are featuring at least something from this remote and too precious for words heritage baiting English label. Note-I am apparently not the only one fed up with the heritage thing. "Heritage Brouhaha" I loves! Double note, I was never really "with" the heritage thing.

Back to Nigel C. Colors are vibrant and rugged on the Abercrombie tip! The look is studied and perhaps a bit too much so... There's a "theory" behind the label which always smacks of insincere marketing. But the 312 points of sale totally baffles me? Jeez!



So Headline News gave me something to squirm about. Not even a blip on BBC, but...

Laura Schlessinger is a name that I haven't heard in a while, but apparently she got her feewings hurt and is giving up talk radio is favor of a forum where she will not be subjected to the nuanced, critical and "raving" criticisms of the American public. As taxing as those can be. "Like being mugged by a guinea pig, quite terrifying" in the words of FU.

It's all too much for her having to defend her demented ramblings. All she was trying to do was make a "philosophical statement" which if you are having a hard time conceptualizing that just try to imagine your cat making odd hut like structures with his kitty flop.

However she decides to market her considerable intellectual musings I don't think the written word is going to capture the shrillness. Nor her thoughtfully crafted down homey register.

Just Fight It Off If You Can.

One really does have to drop everything and reflect when Headline News announces that the price of bacon is about to skyrocket from $3.00 a pound to a whopping $4.20 a pound and I'm not making these numbers up. And did you know this isn't just going to impact those who eat breakfast (occasionally I think most people do) but other people as well. Those that eat lunch and dinner may also "feel the pinch" since bacon is becoming a more common food item throughout the day according to someone with a name.

You see, it just doesn't even come across as plausible when someone else says it but when it is prattled off by some vacant tarted-up mall rat on Headline News it sounds like one of the most pressing issues of the moment. To hell with the crumbling Euro-zone and its impact on the Diamond Jubilee and cut to scene of Precious shoveling down her Denny's platter o'slop. Alone yet talking to someone off camera about how hard it is to get by on 8,500 calories a day.

Consequently there was a brief foray into English murder mystery and now we are squarely back into period Romance. So many family estates frittered away on the base appetites of titled & profligate wastrels! We're in France now so the carpets and porcelain are different, but the rest of the story remains both comfortably familiar and gripping.

Glorious Isn't It?

Later in the day I imagined a conversation between the late Dame Cartland and her publisher. The publisher, somewhat concerned and puzzled as to why the heroine of the novella would jump into bed with an unsavory scurrilous rake after everything about her character belies such behavior? Could it be simply because he is the most powerful duke in the land?

"Well, you see there was this Steeplechase. And she was 10, no 5 and she saw the Duke competing in the Steeplechase wearing this glorious silver smock and did I say it was glorious, and it was love at first sight so when she found out the duke wanted to marry her both expeditiously and cheaply she simply could not say no! It was meant to be! Providence!"

I seriously can't put these books down. I hope I don't have to do anything desperately important because I have scheduled no time for it whatsoever.
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So You Think You Can Dance last night can be summed up in a word... Movement.

Endless Summer.

Happened upon a clutch of old Barbara Cartland novels and they seem to have eliminated all other recreational reading and seeing as how I finished the interminable Halo 2 last night they have actually become all recreation.

Headline News has become a mind numbing bore. I'm pretty sure cats get dumber listening to "rolling news coverage". Tiger Woods playing the worst game of his life "Are his personal issues affecting his game? Was Rihana out of line making a video like this? Some woman with the face like a party cake comments on footage of a car wreck, "And to me this says..." and at this point they have dropped any pretense of reporting the news & they simply train their cameras on the over-caffeinated bimbo speculating on the meaning of aerial images. Out loud. God knows what was on this morning and there is no wonder I'm trapped between the pages of period romance.

Her Face Never Fades Away.

So I had to sit through So You Can Think You Can Dance, and I barely made it through all the overwrought pronouncements attesting to professional and personal growth as a dancer and an artist. And the tears, all of the tears, were a bit much. Altogether inexplicable and everywhere they made me leave the room and compose myself on three separate occasions.

All of these things one could forgive, however, the very last straw is the phrase "Are you kidding me?" Wash, rinse, repeat, say it again in a slightly different tone I have had it with this expression. At once an incredulous way of expressing joy or awe it has been simply overdone & abused. Like mindless heritage baiting, saddle shoes & the summer check it is done.

RoRo hit his 600 homo of his carreer, but it isn't like we saw it cause we were watching a bunch of spastic screaming crying twists twirling their bodies about like demented dolphins. Not even remotely hot. You say twee-boy dancing I say Ultimate Fighting Championship. Thanks.

We Are Creatures Of Observation And We Never Forget.

There are oceans, actual oceans of stripey streaky bleach blond hair where I'm at. That and a heap of cropped pants, capris, coolats whatever the fug you want to call them I can't make 5 steps outside my door without getting a face load of it. Tarsome. Went to a discount outlet called Down East something and there were piles of marked down True Religion and American Eagle. The concept of marked down American Eagle Outfitters is something I'm still trying to wrap my brain around. Along with the cropped pants. They're like the Trilby hat of the inter-mountain west. Like driving the fashion bandwagon headlong into a blazing inferno of sartorial misadventure the hair flipping and lip pursings send me into convulsive fits of giggles. Walked through a section of what I thought were tents and jazzy tarps at the local store before I realized they had appendages and I asked my mother if we were in the big girl section. Mama said yes.

In all of this waste and torture you will never believe what I found. A set (an actual set of four) Wedgewood egg cups. Shrieks of delight doesn't fully describe my reaction. After looking for so long for the perfect set of egg cups (I would have settled for a matching pair) I was knocked sideways finding such a mother lode in a place where I quite effing naturally expected to find nothing more than a collection of microwave cuisine cookbooks and Old West themed beer cozies. And it might sound like I'm being a tarsome snob, but you try playing pole position with some Aryan throwback with tribal tattoos at an abandoned intersection and see what it does with your expectations. They can be so fragile.