Vintage Wool Smoking Suit

It is a fine day for fashion and wordsmiths. Last month, I bought the “Historical Thesaurus of the Oxford English Dictionary” (ed. Kay, Roberts, Samuels, Wotherspoon), and “One Hundred Years of Menswear” (C. Blackman). I am reclining on my wine cut-velvet armchair basking in the intellectual warmth of page 1085. One hand is in my pocket, fondling the commendation ninepence and chain link that you gave me…and wishing I was fondling you. My other hand holds a 19th century hand-painted Staffordshire Punch and Judy mug of hot spiced apple cider, and I’m wearing a copy of Rudolph Valentino’s three-piece smoking suit made of grey and black herringbone tweed, with black matte satin cuffs and a shawl collar. Queen’s Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy is playing scratchily on the gramophone.
I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things
We can do the tango just for two
I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings
Be your Valentino just for you.
Hey boy where do you get it from
Hey boy where did you go ?
I learned my passion in the good old-fashioned
school of loverboys.

(By the luminous Freddie Mercury)

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Wrinkled White Linen Shirt

Sadly, I remember traveling on the Orient Express; I dashed a note off to you on my last aerogram, including the recipe for my grandmother’s spoon bread that you’d requested during your last visit. I fiddled with the mother of pearl buttons on my white linen shirt. The front was wrinkled from me slumbering earlier in the afternoon, and there was a spot of egg yolk from yesterday’s breakfast. I slouched on the banquette sofa in my cabin and stared out the window until the steward brought me a warm Pot de Crème au Chocolat. My iPod was playing Mark Eitzel singing “Sacred Heart”. Maybe this was the perfect moment to be fleeing from Paris. Will I return to your kisses? Will trying it once more time make our love magical again?
“Now I’m out walking on Saturday morning
without a direction, I’m a dime a dozen,
a worthless tourist – a walking target
with his eyes stuck on glue and paper
no roof to crawl under
but with a heart full of rain
a heart full of rain.
Full as the clouds
my throwaway map should throw me away
and where does it take me
streets long since flooded
raindrops and heartbeats
though Noah doesn’t want me
you won’t let me drown. Continue reading

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Gold & Silver Wingtip Tap Shoes

What do I know? Not much. I’d like to keep it that way, and fortunately this is simple…maybe even simple-minded. I’ve decided to take a train ride to retrieve the tatters of the past; tooling through Europe and the Middle East, with the noise of the wheels embossing each memory into my heart. I’ve packed my leather steamer and carry-on, kissed the kittens good-bye, and locked up my apartment. Tapping my way down the long dark hall-way to the dawn in my metallic two-tone wingtips, and then settling into a cab to the airport, I cross one 501 clad leg over the other and take a sip of candy-bar coffee from my green metal thermos.
I’ll break your heart
To keep you far from where
All dangers start
And atmosphere”

(By Warpaint)

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Midnight Velvet Suit by Duchess Clothier

It is Wednesday, the smack middle of the week. For three decades, I’ve yearned for a velvet suit, and am now happily clothed in a glorious midnight velvet suit with self-covered buttons and a whisper of a magenta silk lining …while you’re adorned in a short jacket and plus fours fashioned from yesterday’s newspapers, yellowing and brittle, the stories folded over and over covering your skin. I stroke my thigh, from tender bony knee to silicone cock, the velvet pile soft beneath my rough fingertips, and glance over. You look ravenous, drooling slightly, so I offer you a bite of pain d’épices that I made earlier in the day. You open your lips, and I place the spicy cake upon your pink tongue.
Come tell me your story to unload your glorious grief
Where you are the valet of honour and I am the thief
And don’t ever mention the stains that you left on my track
How from a beautiful girl I became someone ruined and wrecked
It was all in your back
All in your back”

(By Keren Ann Zeidel)

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Pirate Bow Tie!

This glorious and tasteful pirate black bow tie adorned with scattered skull ‘n cross-bones and metallic silver crowns would make any dandy feel like the king of the pirates! It would look equally spiffy with a starched white shirt and tails, or an Oxford button-down shirt, black sweater-vest, 501s, and stompin’ boots. Measurements: Width – 5 1/2”/14 cm
Height – 2 1/2” /6.4 cm.
15% of all sales are donated to San Francisco’s Congregation Sha’ar Zahav.
“Oh, better far to live and die
Under the brave black flag I fly,
Than play a sanctimonious part,
With a pirate head and a pirate heart.
Away to the cheating world go you,
Where pirates all are well-to-do;
But I’ll be true to the song I sing,
And live and die a Pirate King.
For I am a Pirate King!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a Pirate King!”
(From The Pirates of Penzance by Gilbert and Sullivan)

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