I’ve hung on to those pieces, which turned out to be fortuitous as the global interest in watch collecting has driven prices crazy—both up and down over the last 25 years.

I’ve gotten to know some of the biggest dealers to the trade and collectors, and have built friendships that have lasted the test of time. When I was living in Chicago, just out of UCLA, I got to know Howard Frum, the Rolex King. His shop in Chicago’s Wabash Avenue Jewelry Mart was my lunchtime hangout, and the place has maintained its funk vibe as part Cheers—complete with the regulars, and part museum. I’ve spoken to Howard at least 250 times a year for the last 25 years. My greatest finds have come from him and his partner Maurice Tal.

While I’ve remained committed to Rolex steel sport watches from the 50’s through ‘70’s, dabbling in other brands proved financially diseconomic. The exception being Patek Philippe. I like the weirder Pateks from the 1970’s and I regularly wear a Patek 3700 that was one of Howard’s personal pieces until I was able to convince him, it took about a year, to sell it to me.

As a member of the IWJG, I attend several of the organization’s B2B tradeshows a year, and Bobby Maron holds not only some of the best stuff, he makes trends. Last year, Bobby was wearing one of the coolest Pateks I had seen, a 1970 Swiss reaction to the Seiko assault on American wrists. The Patek Beta 21 has the cool vibe of era-specific cars that define the early 1970’s from platinum colored Lincoln Continentals to the long lines of one of my “grail” cars the Citroen DS. Another IWJG dealer found a Patek Beta 21 for me last year. A rare model in white gold, with a detachable white gold band. While often, and thankfully, mistaken for stainless steel, the soft matte finish of the unpolished Patek is perfect.

At last month’s Las Vegas show, there were a few Beta 21’s scattered around the show floor, but Bobby seems to have the market cornered.

Giving my friends visibility into these weird, parallel universes is dicey, but I knew my friend—skater, artist, surfer, design guru Natas Kaupas would appreciate the weirdies at the IWJG show. Natas scored a Patek from the ‘50’s, and he tells me he now has the bug as well. Natas and Howard actually collaborated on a custom dialed Rolex that was a present for 9X World Champion surfer, Kelly Slater.

For me, it’s more about the hunt, the people and the characters, than it is about the “stuff.” Every piece needs the story for it to matter to me. Who I was with, where we were, and what was happening; when the perfect piece was found.

Most college jobs are a fleeting afterthought.  A campus job, ticket taker at a theater, or whatever retail gig that happens to be available.

Luckily, a select group of friends and I had a magical experience in Westwood Village. ’80’s fashion evokes memories of New Wave Village Mews plaids, Flock of Seagulls Hairdos, or Dynasty shoulder pads.  But, it was also the time that Preppy got really big.  At Ease on the corner of Westwood Blvd. and Weyburn was ground zero for West Coast preppy.  With outlets in Orange County and Pasadena, At Ease owner Al Douglass had established his signature take on prep, with a California meets Tokyo twist.  While Pasadena played to the locals and their progeny, who had grown up on Atkinson’s signature red seersucker, Newport was all about SC frat rats in Dacron and cotton Reyn Spooner reverse print popover Hawaiian shirts, Biltwell khakis and Top Sider smoked elk lace ups.  But, it was the proximity to UCLA that made working at At Ease so special.  Selling trad gear to fellow students, studio exec’s, and anybody else we could hit up for the post graduation job, was pretty perfect—being able to clock in, work two hours, clock out, go to class, and clock back in, made it pretty amazing.

The merchandise was prescriptive.  I couldn’t imagine walking into a men’s store today with a pant wall that was 25’x10’ stocked in prefinished chinos in trad colors from khaki to banana yellow.  Price $29.50.  Belts were striped surcingle by Trafalgar and tailored clothing ranged form Southwick to Norman Hilton.  We had the finest sock selection in the world, backed up by Alden shell cordovan plain toe bluchers, saddles and the Alden LHS (Loafer Hand Sewn.) A recent chat with the current Alden rep put sales of the loafers at nearly 600 pair/year out of the Westwood store alone.

The At Ease sale was an annual extravaganza.  With hundreds of intrepid preps spending the night in line in beach chairs.  Think Best Buy on Black Friday, but with well dressed clothes horses looking for a decent markdown on Shetland sweaters and button downs.

Working at At Ease was all about family.  I’m still in touch with many of my co-workers, who became my dearest friends.  Joe Vasco, who rules Gary’s and Co. in Newport Beach today, and LA’s finest tailor, Paul Kaloustian, who operates Wilshire Tailors, is still known for his sublime hand sewn buttonholes and shoulder work on suits from Kiton and Thom Browne to J. Press sack suits.

All of this nostalgia came back incredibly strong in November as Joe Vasco organized the first At Ease reunion in honor of Al and Nancy Douglass.  At Ease first opened in Newport Beach in 1968, and was ultimately sold in 1984.  And while hundreds of employees worked there, it had a magical imprint on most of us. Nearly 100 former At Ease employees turned up for the reunion—all this for a store that has been closed for 26 years.  Joe had a lot of At Ease merchandise with the original tags in place, and he worked with former merchandisers to create time capsule displays of what we now realize was timeless clothing.

Detaching myself from “stuff” has been an attained goal in 2010.  But, I have hung on to several pieces from my At Ease days.  From shoe trees to a pair of the Alden loafers, I’ll never let them go.  Thanks Joe for bringing us all back together last month.

I made a choice years ago that even though a suit and tie weren’t always required, they were always preferred.  As you can probably guess I’m an archivist of traditional clothing items that I’ve owned, and many of my favorite ties have survived my selling days on the floor of trad emporium At Ease in Westwood Village.

At the height of prep hysteria, we preferred traditional Talbott repp stripes, narrow as possible, with a Gittman or Brooks Bros. OCBD’s (oxford cloth button down).  We also discovered and embraced the silk (summer) or wool (winter) knit tie as an alternative to fussier patterns.  While the silk are long gone, several thrift-shopped mohair Rooster knits have survived and are still in the rotation decades later.

As I strive to limit the amount of “stuff” I’m hanging onto in general, I seem to being wearing more and more of a uniform.  Suits, shirts, and shoes in multiple versions of pretty much the same thing—so much so, that only I can seem to divine the subtle differences from one shell cordovan “long wing” wingtip form the next.  Sure, some are dead-stock vintage Florsheim Imperials from the ‘60s, while others are contemporary Thom Browne versions aping the vintage examples.  Suits are either vintage Saville Row, Huntsman, Anderson and Sheppard, Henry Poole, contemporary Thom Browne, or Brooks Brothers sack suits updated by the keen eye of T. Browne’s work under the Black Fleece label.

I’ve written about my shirt source, the one and only Freddy Vandecasteele, who has been refining both a straight collar turn back cuffed version of the my white dress shirt, or what I’ve determined is the perfect button down in either a white broadcloth or pique version.

In the search for the simple tie solution, I’m still partial to two color repp stripes, but am really only wearing solids.  The knit tie choice isn’t as simple as it may seem.  They’ve gotta have some heft to them to tie up right.  Too thick and they’re silly, too thin and they’re ridiculous.   I’d heard that the J. Press silk knit was just about perfect, and the word on the street was right.

The J. Press black silk knit tie may be the only tie you need.  I’ve become a zealot on the subject of this tie, and have been proselytizing its virtues to those curious enough to care, those nutty enough to ask.

The tie has even gone pop culture.  In deep conversation with my new buddy Kanye West, we were discussing the aforementioned tie, and he’s made it not only his uniform, but the standard for his friends.  A couple of weeks ago, I was lucky enough to accompany Kanye and company backstage at Madison Square Garden for the Rihanna show, and then at a private show that Kanye had organized with his hometown partner John Legend.  The show was nothing short of amazing, and even at 3:30 am, Kanye’s Rosewood crew were looking damn great in fitted suits and The Tie –the only one they’re wearing now, and the same goes for me.



I’m a creature of habit in most things I do, from the prescriptive nature of the things I love to where I travel when I have free time. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that I’ve spent every Christmas holiday — other than the millennium year — in Honolulu.

Honolulu is a second home for me. And there are the things I do and wear in Honolulu that get me through the six months away, until I can’t stand it anymore and have to go back.

I’m lucky to rent the same house on the beach in Kahala, keep a small quiver of boards there, surf the same spots, and hang with the same friends. Though the neighborhood is super gentrified, my holiday house is a ‘60s throwback with a lava rock wall and pond, a spiral staircase, and white shag carpeting. (I also love the kitsch of a neighbor’s palm tree brace fashioned from car jacks. Classic.)

I don’t wear Aloha shirts much, but it’s all I wear when I’m here. My good friend Steve Rabineau has generously gifted his doubles to me, and I’ve added to my small collection with some select purchases from Bailey’s Antiques in Kapahulu. A god among Japanese collectors, David Bailey has the best vintage aloha shirts, he’s used his expertise to remake classic patterns so that four-figure shirts are affordable. Some of Bailey’s museum-quality collection are in Rin Tanaka’s book My Freedamn! Seven: Vintage Beach Fashions (legendary Hawaiian waterman Dale Hope’s definitive work on Aloha shirts is great, too).

As a kid, my family and I always stayed with friends at The Royal Hawaiian Hotel. Over the two-week holiday, we kids grew up there together — from kindergarten through college. I’m still in touch with some of those kids now, including Leigh Reichley, who’s now a coworker. We all surfed, gossiped, nightclubbed, made out, and hung out. The Royal just had an amazing renovation. It’s great to see the Pink Palace restored to its full glory.

Royal Hawaiian Hotel...Mid-70's..check out those custom Quiksilver boardies

Surfing plays a big part of my time in Honolulu, and I’ve been blessed with great surf on this trip and on an earlier trip here in June. June delivered south swell after south swell, truly epic double-overhead surf that looked more like Sunset than Queens. My local buddy Carnet Williams and I have scored Diamond Head and Queens on this trip, with perfect glassy conditions and head high peaks.

Food-wise, the best poke, boiled peanuts, and pickled Maui onions in Hawaii are at Fort Ruger market, just behind Diamond Head.

I’ve honed my Hawaii quiver down to a couple of boards, a mint 40-year-old 10’0 Surfboards Hawaii Model A, and a 6’0” Christiansen Fish. The first stop on the way into town from the airport is to visit Toru Yamaguchi at Surf Garage, where the Model A hangs out between visits. Toru has one of the coolest surf shops in the world, and provides a great board storage service for me and Japanese nationals who are fed up with $175+ one-way fees — dings provided for free — that the airlines offer. Surf Garage brings back memories of riding my super surfer skateboard from Manhattan Beach to E.T. Surfboards in Hermosa Beach. Shop owner Eddie Talbot always made us groms feel welcome and cool, especially after getting vibed by big shots at other shops.

The Kahala downtime is also a chance to work on my uke skills after listening to AM940′s traditional Hawaiian fare, and seeing great local musicians at the Halekulani Hotel.

Surf, family, great friends, perfect sushi, glassy head-high peaks, and playing the uke in a hammock… This is the fuel that gets me through the time between visits back to paradise.

Aloha.

A couple of months ago, I guest blogged at Outblush.com (see link here), and I was given the opportunity to muse on whatever I liked, as long as it was about women’s fashion.

I blogged about authentic women’s riding boots, because I have always loved the amazing construction and patina that comes from clothing as “tools,” taking on a used beauty that only comes from being depended on, loved and worn. But to own and wear a pair of these beauties is: 1. difficult for a man who isn’t an Argentine polo player and 2. an affectation at best and 3. uncomfortable at worst around town.

Three rainy days in NYC last week got me thinking about real-deal Wellingtons. Based on a cavalry boot designed by the Duke of Wellington in the early 1800s, wellies weren’t rubber-made until mid-century. From downtown hipster dudes to impeccably groomed Eastside men and women, the best were shod in khaki green wellies, some guys with pants tucked in, tough to pull off in anything other than denim, and with leggings on the fairer of the species. I’m not talking about the Burberry-printed rubber rain boots favored by the Robertson crowd, or Marc Jacobs $20 throw-aways, I’m talking about English hiking and hunting boots that are rubber because that’s the only way to ensure that your feet are dry.

A little research, impromptu polling and Google made it pretty easy to track down the brands of choice. The top of the line, Le Chameau, aren’t from England but are French made. The story is pretty amazing. It takes nine months of training before a Le Chameau boot maker actually gets his hands on the natural rubber used to make these boots from start to finish, here’s a link to a video on the production process. Natural rubber is the best material as it isn’t prone to cuts or cracking like synthetics. The best part of the top of the line Le Chameau boots is that they are lined with top of the line calf leather to ensure a great fit, and to avoid the clammy feel and heat buildup that is sure to come from a day of pheasant hunting, bog trekking, or Soho shopping. This kind of luxury doesn’t come cheap, but Le Chameau claims that these boots can last for decades. They’re available in the U.S. at Orvis.

There are very few buddies that that appreciate my eccentricities in total. From cars to bikes to ukes, and also wellies, only Puma’s Chief Marketing Officer and 15-year friend, Antonio Bertone, really gets why I dig the stuff I dig. I tracked Tony down—the weird mobile ring gave away his globe-trotting—to tell him about the Le Chameau boots. He listened thoughtfully, and then I quickly realized that he was way ahead of me on this.

Puma’s incubated baby brand Tretorn has been not only a leader in ‘70s tennis gear, but also the wellies of choice for mud hungry Swedes who are much more likely to hike than hunt. Although not available for men in the U.S., the Tretorn Sarek Milleniums are top flight and top choice for Swedes. Although I had trouble translating the page and doing the currency conversion, they look to be about a quarter of the price of Le Chameaus.

As I write this, today would qualify as a summer day in most of the Northern Hemisphere. It’s 72 degrees Fahrenheit at 8 am, not a cloud in the sky, and I’m contemplating a surf, sans wetsuit. While the whole Wellington thing seems a bit extreme, for me, it really is about things that feature substance over mere form. The low-tech and anachronistic Land Rover Defender 90, shell cordovan, Filson bags and Jade yoga mats. Focus on the Donut has become a meditation for me on a theme. Thanks for indulging me, it’s much appreciated.

Peace.

Much has been written and blogged about shell cordovan leather—the ultra durable, beautifully hand-crafted, and mostly-tanned-in-America horse hide. A preppy/trad favorite since Brooks Brothers began stocking Alden shoe examples in the ’60s. Named for the shell-shaped hides that come from the rump of a horse, shell takes on a beautiful character through use — think of how dry denim, starting with the early Levi’s 501 shrink-to-fits of my youth and modern examples from R by 45rpm and Sugarcane take your personal imprint. Only shell does it through wear, not washing.

Like most things sartorial, my first introduction to shell cordovan was through my father. Alden shell cordovan saddle shoes matched up with odd blazers from Brooks and Alden plain toe bluchers, also from Brooks, were the shoe of choice with tan suits, gabardine in fall, and cotton poplin in summer. My college salesman days at Westwood’s preppy ground zero, At Ease, put me in touch with Alden shell cordovan on a daily basis. Too expensive for a student budget, we searched Bass Weejun boxes for inexpensive calf skin penny loafers, whose dye most closely matched the unattainable color of Horween leathers shell cordovan color #8, the traditional Alden/Brooks colorway. But, shell cordovan isn’t just about color, it’s about that magical fingerprint that each owner’s polishing and footprint make on each shoe or accessory.

This magic comes through the lengthy tanning process (see this amazing video here) in which shells are impregnated with natural oils that create a one of a kind creasing and a rubbery “hand” that immediately sets shell apart from any other leather. Polishing techniques for shell are as varied as the aficionados who love the skin, but a key success factor — like  most things in life — is that less is more. Polish less frequently—once or twice a year — , use less polish, and brush them occasionally.

But, it’s not just about shoes, it’s about amazing accessories, that take on that delicious rubbery feel. Nick Gabarro of Gabarro Straps–sorry, to the trade only — is known worldwide for his special shell cordovan watch straps that are the bands of choice for enthusiasts and serious collectors like John Mayer, who finds Nick’s pieces at the IWJG watch shows in NY and Las Vegas. Nick also is responsible for the small leather goods now available at Brooks Brothers, and I saw an amazing shell toiletry kit at the NYC Alden store on Madison Avenue. While shell is most seen in the burgundy #8, Nick’s bands and accessories in the brown tones of Whiskey and Cigar are beautiful. I was lucky enough to score a jade green shell cordovan band from Nick at last month’s IWJG show. Alden can be coaxed to make up special order shoes in these less seen colors, and Honolulu-based shoe guru, Tom Park, at Leather Soul Hawaii, has done an amazing job of sourcing the iconic Alden saddle shoes, Indy boots (the kind that Harrison Ford sported in the Indiana Jones films), as well as Chukkas.

The much appreciated, current fascination with all things made in America has shined a light on shell cordovan, and Horween’s Chicago home. But, it was the Japanese love of the hide that brought forth some amazing shoes and products. And while Horween is the gold standard, there is a Tokyo-based tannery apparently turning out decent shell cordovan. On trips to Tokyo years ago, the displays of unique to Japan Aldens, small leather goods and belts, inspired my renewed interest in shell cordovan. Beams in Harajuku always features shell cordovan shoes and accessories.

My personal obsession with shell cordovan isn’t just about shoes. I wear a shell cordovan bracelet daily, carry a shell cordovan glass case, and have an indestructible Gabarro NATO-style shell cordovan strap on a watch that I wear surfing (it only gets better looking, the more it gets wet). My shoe collection includes some of my pairs from At Ease in the early ‘80s, and my original pair of Brooks Brothers, unlined penny loafers, in #8 from the same era. While Alden offers a very reasonably priced restoration service, I haven’t had to use it, but I have seen the results–very impressive. Others include traditional examples of long-wing wingtips in black and #8, Chukkas in cigar, loafers in black and whiskey. And #8 plain-toe bluchers like my dad’s. Ralph Lauren also offers Northampton, England-sourced examples from Crockett and Jones in an amazing rich brown, somewhere between whiskey and cigar. Master shoemaker Silvano Lattanzi is known for his bespoke, fully handmade derbys and bluchers that’ll set you back well into four figures.

I’m not there… yet.

I’m somewhat of a creature of habit, generally meaning that if I find something I like, I stick with it, I’m loyal like that. This extends to the mundane, the same Jasmine Green Tea, from the same guy at Peet’s on my way to the same 6am yoga class—with most of the same people, the same T-shirts, the RRL washed tees—best found eBay, and the original white Jack Purcell sneakers—undistressed—the way badminton player Purcell unboxed them, that I’ve been wearing since high school. Sure transient products have found there way into my rotation, flirtations with Starbucks, Hanes Beefy-T’s, and sneaker nuttiness when the Air Jordan thing blew up.

All that to say, I’ve been around the block with wallets, from the traditional to the weird. Even slightly worn Trafalgar alligator wallets from Nordstroms would be happily and inexplicably exchanged by Nordstrom staff, so that was the chosen type for years. I’ve tried money clips—tough for receipts, and even a Gary Scott crazy titanium fold over wallet that still sees duty when on a surf trip and water/sand and wax are thrown into the mix.

For the time being, I think I’ve found nirvana. I’ve co-opted the Hermes GM Notepad/Agenda and made it my wallet. I think it’s a pretty great mix of size, form and function. The compact size has disciplined me on the number of cards I really need—there is a slot on each side—4 cards max each with receipts and cash on opposite sides. Most importantly, there’s a small unlined notepad and a small sterling pen that closes the wallet through the three loops. Not only do I need to be judicious in what goes in the wallet, I need to be thoughtful about what gets memorialized on the notepad. Always having a pen/paper in your pocket is super handy, and when others are rummaging through their briefcases/messenger bags or doing that weird chest patting—the international symbol for “looking for a pen”, I must admit I do feel superior. After several years, I now have a stack of the used notepads, which are great to return to for inspiration, or a phone number that didn’t make it into the iPhone.

Hermes sales people around the world have a different opinion of the use of the notepad/agenda as a wallet, and I have been reprimanded in both Paris and Sydney for using what wasn’t designed as a wallet, as one. California stores in LA and SF are less concerned about this—mostly because the LA staff cant be bothered to help me with replacement pads and pen refills when Asian bag snobs are Kelly/Birkin fishing, and clearly on a mission—straight from LAX. It is true that the pads and pen refills are completely non-standard—not a big surprise, and require a trip to the local Hermes storefront. Sorry, the airline terminal outposts don’t carry either.

I’ve converted a few forward thinkers to this traveling desk, and they seem happy. The upfront investment if you go the direct to Hermes route isn’t cheap, and there are often new and slightly used examples lurking on eBay, either mislisted or under Hermes agenda and/or notepad. The simple leather wallet itself should be under $300 at MSRP retail–think hal, with the pen slightly less. Pads come in bundles of two. The whole package wears quite well, I have more than a couple, including a dead stock 1972 model that came with that year’s unused calendar.

Fair warning, you may be bidding against me for weird colorways and exotic leathers on eBay. My current best friend is a beautiful navy ostrich, picked up at the irregularly occurring LA Hermes sale last week.

Double Tube Cedar Shoe Trees from UK Based Cathcart Elliot

You may have deduced that I’m a collector….From esoteric cars, to vintage sport watches—more on that soon, to Buddy Lee Dolls.

But, without being a nut, I tend to make my clothing, suits/ties/shoes last a really long time.  As a UCLA student in the 80’s, I was lucky enough to work at what was SoCal’s epicenter of preppy/trad, At Ease.  With outposts in Westwood, Newport Beach, Pasadena and Tokyo, At Ease carried the best in American made Trad clothing—Norman Hilton, Southwick, Gittman shirts and Alden shoes.  While this was 25 years ago, I still own and wear a surprising number of pieces that I acquired there as an employee—shoes in particular.

Good care of my beloved Alden shell cordovan shoes is key, and as I’ve written before, I’m lucky to have discovered great shoe shines—the current favorite is Pasquale’s in Los Angeles and the amazing Saleem at Junior’s deli in West Los Angeles.  The other trick is that I’ve always been a dedicated user of shoe trees.  My At Ease boss, and dear friend, Joe Vasco, who still sells Trad at Gary’s and Company in Newport Beach, always insisted that our venerable customers pick up cedar trees with their Aldens, and as dutiful employees we did the same…The investment paid off.

While shoe bags, and trees may seem a little over the top, they’re pretty great.  Bags seem even nuttier, but bagging your shoes after wearing, avoids scuffs and makes shines last.  I always grab the muslim slipper bags from The Mercer Hotel, and after many years there, I have a great set to go along with the bags that come with most of the shoes I now buy.

Trees come in several flavors.  Bespoke shoe guys, I’m talking full custom, get a lasted shoe tree, that is an actual representation of the foot, which is the basis for the shoe, which is made off of a last, that is based on your foot–Clearly the ultimate luxury.  High end Northampton (English made) shoemakers, Edward Green and John Lobb, make lasted trees, based on their time tested lasts—606, 202, 888 are Ed Green examples.  Each a slightly different shape that have specific fans for each.  The Lobb Prestige line shoes actually come with lasted trees and bags. France’s contribution to men’s classic footwear, J.M Weston, also sell trees, made of beautiful polished lemon wood.

But, for the most part, I’ve invested in non-lasted cedar shoe trees that provide not only the best value, but actually work the best.  The purpose of a good shoe tree is not only to keep a shoes shape, but to wick away moisture from a shoe inside out.  As lovely as the polished lemon wood trees are, they just don’t do the job that the best off the rack trees from the US based Cedarviile Store, or  the UK based Cathcart Elliot offer.  My choice are the Epic Twin Tube cedar trees, currently on sale at Cedarville for $24.99.

This may seem like a lot of bother, but my vintage Alden loafers—At Ease 1983, are old friends, but even with many years of sockless wear, still have plenty of miles to go.

As I was wrenching on the Defender 90 last night, installing a Mantec swing out tire carrier, with my friend and fellow Defender enthusiast, Barry Fein, Barry was lamenting the lack of high quality customer service and attention to detail with most of the vendors we deal with–truth be told Barry was doing most of the work, I was assisting, and admiring his skills. Barry has both a beautiful ’94 defender 90, blue, and my desired ’93 Defender 110.

Since I had time to think, while Barry was torquing, I realized he was right, service industry pride is generally lacking and in LA, while most are doing service work, as a holding pattern for what they really want to do, the customer suffers. Since the experience is rare, great service and excellent work is a luxury worth paying for.

I was introduced to Los Angeles’ Pasquale Shoe Repair by a friend, after being tooled by Beverly Hiils renowned Arturo’s—expensive, cash only, kinda rude, and not exceptional work. When you pull up to Pasquale-land, you’ve entered a Vegas-like (think Bellagio) plaza, with a cool little café, serving excellent food, they now have pizza, and an active juicer, with my favorite—orange, ginger, carrot. Mr. Fabrizio Pasquale, rules the café, while his lovely and charming wife and staff man the shoe repair. This is a whole building, not a space in a strip mall, they have their own parking—reason enough to avoid Beverly Hills and there’s easy in/out off of San Vicente.

The real magic happens inside, service is exceptional, and the work unmatched. I’m not super hard on my shoes, but I am particular about a good shine. I’m partial to Shell Cordovan shoes, and they are notoriously hard to shine…Too much polish and they’re a mess, too much wax and they’re dull. They only require a couple shines a year at most, and Pasquale’s knows how to do it right..For a very reasonable $8, often while you wait. I wear J.M. Weston shoes, and a couple of the models come with the customary Weston steel heel and toe cleats. Not only are they loud, they’re dangerous. Although considered blasphemous by some, I’ve had Pasquale’s remove these, replacing them with rubber and they came back with a factory look, only quieter and safer.

It may sound crazy, but Ron Rider who manufactures beautiful chukka boots in Italy, selectively will do antiquing work on bench made shoes, giving them a patina that I certainly could never achieve on my own, and that may be the coolest service in the country. I’ve had Ron antique some brown Borrelli Wholecuts, and a couple of pair of Lobb Prestige monkstraps. And a pair of Lobb Williams. Here’s a link from styleforum of his work in progress.

What really impresses me abut Pasquale’s work is that they’ll take the mundane project and do an truly amazing job. An old beat up, too beat up, Filson Medium Field bag needed to be cleaned, but I wanted to maintain the original patina—no problem, perfect results. Think new life for the eBay purchases that arrive disappointing.

But, I need to dedicate a paragraph to Pasquale’s Topy work. Topy is an ultradurable thin rubber sole that you affix to new shoes, they keep the soles perfect. Many shoe nuts think this is heresy, but it makes sense to me, particularly on fragile Lobbs and shoes that you want to have a waterproof sole, but without a rubber lug sole. While some may think that Topy’ing is a mundane service provided by any shoe repair shop, you haven’t seen Pasquale’s work. They actually rout the sole, so that the Topy’s edge is flush with the leather, super clean, and will never peel. They also have been able to match the contour of the beveled waist on Lobb Prestige models, and have used either Brown or black depending on the shoe. I saw a pair of Pasquale Topy’d Christian Louboutin delicate ladies sling backs last week. “Loubies” are known for their red sole, and this lovely pair had a red Topy to match…How cool is that? Pasquale’s was voted the “Best in the World” by W Magazine, and I have to agree.

I’ve gotten to the point, and to the age, where expensive, ultra washed and “ironic” printed tees, are not only unappealing, they feel ridiculous. Sure, in this city and industry, I’m a bit anachronistic wearing a suit and tie most days. I don’t expect others to do the same, I just like it, and it’s kind of become my thing.

While many find adventure and in discovering the perfect pair of distressed Japanese denim, I’m doing the same in finding craftsmen who are still making clothing the old fashioned way—one piece at a time and with great care.

That doesn’t mean that value doesn’t matter. Custom shirts at the same price, or less than store bought, just makes good sense. This really is a story about value.

If slow living means doing one thing at a time and doing it well, then LA-based shirt maker Freddy Vandecasteele has the concept nailed.

Freddy is a Belgian-born, French-trained master who in his humble San Fernando Valley-based studio, builds some of the finest domestically sourced dress shirts that challenge some of the best coming out of London’s Jermyn Street. In my search for vintage Saville Row bespoke clothing, I lucked into a cache of Frank Foster, deadstock Sea Island cotton dress shirts that fit as if they were made to measure for me. Or so I thought… I had read about Freddy on some of the esoteric clothing fora, and his humble and thoughtful posts as well as customer testimonials got me interested. I showed up at Freddy’s space with one of the Foster shirts in hand, and while Freddy appreciated the workmanship, he felt he could do much better on fit.

We kept what we liked best — the straight collar, French cuff, clean placket, short yoke and button less sleeve placket — while refining fit. I wanted the shirt to fit, and while I’m still a sucker for Kiton and Borelli fabric and handwork, these Neapolitan examples are enormous and blousy.

Freddy does all of the work himself, from measurements to first fittings, to final product. He doesn’t require a minimum order like many shirtmakers do, so the sticker shock induced paralysis that usually accompanies bespoke clothing purchases, is happily avoided.

Amazingly quick turnaround meant that within 10 days I was back at Freddy’s with my first shirt. The fit and finish were exceptional. Being a bit crazy, I supplied Freddy with my own extra thick mother of pearl buttons, but took Freddy’s recommendation on fabric choice. I’m pretty much a white shirt guy, and the Freddy recommended lightweight broadcloth was perfect. He suggested I take the shirt with me, wear it, launder it—I have a shirt laundering ritual*, and report back on any thoughts re: fit.

I was stoked with the prototype and after wearing it twice, phoned Freddy to place a proper order. Pricing is incredible, appreciably, read less than half, than most high end off the rack shirts, and I love Freddy’s passion, easy way, and excellent product. We’ve been doing stuff together for over a year, and I’m still wearing the original prototype as I write this today in London.

Ordering bespoke shirts when I’m a pretty easy fit, a true Medium either 15 or 15.5/35, may seem at a minimum like and extravagance, and at worst as an unnecessary indulgence, but the build quality, fit and finish mean that these shirts are true value. All of the shirts that Freddy has made for me are still in rotation, showing no signs of wear. I’ve recently had Freddy replace some “old friends,” shirts that I’ve owned for 12+ years.

* Notes on Dress Shirt Care:

If excessive dry cleaning kills tailored clothing, a rough washing routine kills dress shirts. You’ve probably guessed that I’m a bit picky when it comes to the details, and I’ve gotten dress shirt care down to somewhat of a science that definitely extends the life of my shirts. Detergent is step one. I’m particularly impressed with Mrs. Meyers liquid detergent that, while originally only locally available at Whole Foods, is now available at Ralph’s supermarket and through my local dry cleaner, Manhattan Beach-based Door-to-Door Cleaners.

I’m partial to the lavender scent. I wash my shirts separately from the other laundry on a white cycle, that includes a pre-wash and gentle spin. The shirts are hung to dry. They then are taken to Door-to-Door Cleaners in Manhattan Beach to be hand pressed, no machine pressing, and folded. I really like that Door to Door offers the press only service by hand. Also, I can opt out of having cardboard in the shirts when I get them back—seems wasteful.