Hot Rod Magazine and it’s sister publications have moved their offices and photo studios to nearby El Segundo, and in showing off their new digs, hosted Von Fink’s car show and pinstripe event right in my backyard. My current cars don’t lend themselves to Kustom, but what a chance to take advantage of having the world’s best artists in my backyard.

After six months of trial and error, I just received a resuscitated vintage Martin Uke that had been abandoned with a crazed finish to prove it. A meticulous friend and luthier, John Kallas, put together the proper mix of lacquer to turn my eBay rescue into the “chosen one”.

Although I had never seen a matte black Uke before, a matte black Martin guitar inspired by Johnny Cash’s favorite displayed at the James Perse store in Malibu inspired me.

Not sure what I would find, I took the Martin and one of my Kamakas to the Von Fink show where Phoenix native Tony Perez, was putting his handwork on a murdered out, matte black motorcycle helmet.

I knew Tony was the man to work on my ukes, and while a bit sheepish to even ask, I did, and the process was incredible, the results amazing. Tony’s a steady handed, cool cat, and with no sketching or planning, he took on the two ukes, gave them completely different looks and, and freaked out most of the onlookers with a fantastic job.

There are a lot of bloggers who’ve done a lot of research on artisans who are doing it the “old way”. American made denim, revivals of old favorites and car/motorcycle builders who are doing it their way, one at a time.

Yesterday’s show was a chance to look at the coolest rat rods, backyard projects, and million dollar “trailer queens”. I used to be the guy who wanted to figure out how to garage just one more car, but in a new found desire to edit, Tony gave me the chance to put a little Kustom Kulture in my trunk, in a couple of uke cases.

For the last five years I’ve been traveling from LA to Palo Alto in my work for the most exciting company in the world.  Hotels in Palo Alto are tough to come by, and expensive during Stanford basketball and football seasons, and in 2005, I was lucky enough to find 225 square foot “mother-in-law” unit in a great mid-century Eichler house in a cool tract of Eichler homes.  While my pad up north lacks a kitchen (I get by with a mini-fridge and microwave), I’ve come to realize that less can really be more, and super livable.  When Manhattan Beach became “disco” in the old New Economy, and charming beach cottages made way for lot to lot McMansions, my disdain for large and overbuilt increased like beach front square footage, and had me thinking about what you really need if you live in a place you really love.

I’m renovating a 1920s beach bungalow with these thoughts in mind—more on that in another post—, but I’ve tried to take the concept of physical domicile downsizing to heart in many ways.  I’m far from austere and my posts on the love of things tells that my soul is one of a collector.  But what separates a collector from a hoarder is curating.  And besides, editing is good for the soul.

I’ve been lucky enough to deal with Japanese uber-collectors of midcentury modern furniture and vintage workwear.  While acquisitive to be sure, their collecting style is a highly edited one, dictated by urban space constraints of home and closet.  Rather than owning four mediocre pairs of vintage denim, or multiple variations of the Eames shell chair, Japanese collectors search for the best examples, and stretch for that one great piece.  It’s hard for a hunter/gatherer like me to say this, but I see the wisdom in their ways, and am taking it to heart.

I’ve always over-indulged—or been sloppy with—my choice of luggage.  I always go for the best stuff (i.e. Filson), but I go large. Too large.  Same with the Dopp kit I lugged around—it was so big, it would only leave my bathroom counter as I headed outta town.  This is unnecessary.  While carry-on luggage is the badge of honor of road warriors, I’ve never lost a piece of super-sized rolling luggage that I’ve always been proud to check.

But last month I took a different tack.  I’ve always been intrigued by aluminum luggage, and went through the Zero Haliburton phase, when Sonny Crockett was chasing Colombians through the streets of Miami with Haliburton cases, chock o’ block with blow, and cash.  The real deal isn’t the American-made stuff, but Germany’s finest—Rimowa.  Created for trips to the tropics, the water- and humidity-proof Rimowa was adopted by Japanese jetsetters who prefer their pieces beat up, true to the Rimowa tagline that “every piece tells a story.”  There’s even vintage, tag-covered piece on display high above the new pieces at Rimowa’s outpost on Kalakaua Avenue in Waikiki.

To do this right, I bought the 22” carry-on Rimowa from Tom Park at Leather Soul Hawaii , and I’m amazed how much I can fit inside.  The luxury of packing multiple pairs of shoes is gone, but editing my travel needs is cool.  My new smaller case called for a smaller Dopp kit as well, in effect downsizing from a desktop to a netbook.  I discovered the GoToob travel containers, and am “rolling my own” , packaging my favorite smell goods and Kiehl’s products.  I picked a tiny Eagle River waterproof bag to put it all in, and instead of using one set of toiletries at home and away, “mini-me” stays in the Rimowa between trips.

While this may not seem like a big deal, and my partners in crime have always “carried on,” this is pretty new to me, and I like it.

It’s a good meditation on how I want to live my life, focusing on the stuff—literal and figurative—that matter and make the important things easier to achieve.

As a kid, I was in love with assembly lines.  Maybe it was the Cub Scout trip to the Rold Gold pretzel factory in El Segundo, the surfboard shaping and glassing bays of my teen years, or the industrial films that were shown on the rare rainy day recesses at Grandview School, but I love seeing how things I love are made.

On New Year’s Eve morning, 84 year old Fred Kamaka, Sr. was  leading the tour of the Kamaka Ukulele factory—holiday or not.

This is truly nirvana for the uke player, scion of the greatest uke maker, leading a tour of 10 through the small Honolulu factory, talking story, introducing us to his Ohana, all while detailing the amazing story of his father who started the business 93 years ago, and his brother who took over the business with Sam in the 1950’s.

You know by now that I’m an enthusiastic, but not outstanding uke player.  What I may lack in ability, I try to make up for in practice and constant proximity to a uke.  On any trip more than a night, I bring a uke with me, and had one with me last week in Park City for the Sundance Film festival.  Everyone loves picking up the Uke and Vice Magazine’s Eddy Moretti—an accomplished guitar player was hooked.  It’s the easy sound, and comfortable size and weight that makes the uke so cool.  A integral part of Polynesian culture, Tahitian ukes are rare, with a totally different sound and vibe.  Eddy’s partner, Shane Smith and his lovely wife, Tamika,  hauled a beautiful Tahitian uke back for me over the holidays.

The visit to Kamaka was made particularly sweet by Fred’s narrative, and old school toughness.  Clearly this guy was not only a taskmaster, but an ass kicker when it came to, and comes to doing things his way, the right way. Fred clearly knows how he wants things done.  The automation of things like cad/cam cutting of uke necks, are a product of the next generation of Kamakas.  And, while Fred seemed skeptical about the change from a one piece to two piece neck, he was clearly happy to no longer be producing vast amounts of what he calls “the world’s most expensive sawdust,” koa is $30 a linear foot.

The trip to Kamaka was akin to taking my girls to the American Girl store on 5^th Avenue in NYC.  Like Camille and Daisy with their dolls in tow, I had my tweed cased 1969 Kamaka Soprano over my shoulder. I was eager to bring the uke back home and for Fred and Co. to hear the sweet tone of a very special uke.  My ukes aren’t the prettiest, but I only keep the ones that have that sweet tone that I love.  Fred liked my uke, but didn’t gush over it the way a proud father hoped he would.  I was able to sneak off the tour and spend some time with Fred’s nephew Chris, who showed me some of the amazing custom work that only the Kamaka family members work on.  I have a couple of uke projects in the works, but nothing like these Kamaka customs.  After some prodding, I was able to get Chris to acknowledge my uke’s special sound.

It was a special hour on the last day of an amazing year.  Fred’s narrative centered me on the need to focus on the love of family, hard work, attention to detail, and old school appreciation of doing things the right way.  Like my father, who would have been Fred’s age; the islands, family, love, focus, respect and empathy are a big part of what makes Sam and Kamaka special.  They operate Kamaka under a simple motto, “If you make instruments and use the family name, don’t make junk.”

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.

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.

My art-collecting friends have been consistent in the one thing they tell me: “Buy what you love.”

As a collector of many things, as detailed here, I’ve acquired art that has specific meaning to me: a Glen E. Friedman Dog Town-era Tony Alva photo from 1977, a 1960s Laguna Beach oil painting by George Michaud that hung in my house as a kid, and some amazing “found” surf photos and paintings I always discovered while looking for other stuff, mostly vintage furniture and car parts.

So buying what I love came naturally, because I only picked up and kept stuff along the way that I really like.

You may have gotten from earlier posts that I am a bit nostalgic, especially around things surf and South Bay. Growing up in Manhattan Beach in the ’70s was a different time. Manhattan had yet to become the “disco” beach suburb that, I regret to say, it has become. People lived here because they loved the beach, surf, and volleyball. A small-town vibe where teachers, lifeguards and firemen could afford to live in the town where the worked and served their neighbors. Those days are gone.

During the late 1970s and early ‘80s, L.A. boasted a well documented punk music scene, and I was lucky enough to see many great shows at various venue: The Police, 1979, at both the Whisky and Hollywood Park racetrack, all the major ska bands at the Whisky and, a week of Clash shows at the Hollywood Palladium.

The South Bay had its own scene, defined by local bands Black Flag and the Circle Jerks. The Black Flag ethos was defined a relentless beat, Henry Rollins’s vocals and Raymond Pettibon concert flyers and album art. As the brother of Black Flag founder, Mike Ginn, Pettibon’s monochromatic, anti-authoritarian style became synonymous with the band. This recognition allowed Pettibon, who still lives in Hermosa Beach, to begin an art career in earnest–to amazing success. While some of his images and subject matter are provocative, his surf imagery is truly without equal.

While Surfer Magazine founder and artist, John Severson, defined the “wave” aesthetic in the 1960s, Pettibon’s perfect barrels, and use of subtle and not so subtle coloring, has earned him an international following of surfers, museums and serious art collectors. This lead not only to amazing accolades, but a Whitney Biennial exhibition in 2004, along with a Bucksbaum award.

Not all of these are surf images, in fact, most aren’t. But these are the paintings and drawings that I have lusted after. I follow the major auction houses (Phillips, Christies, Sotheby’s) closely, and am always on the hunt for a surf picture that I can afford. There are a couple of non-surf monochromatic pieces in next week’s Phillips contemporary art sale. There are also some great Pettibon books, Plots Laid Thick, is a favorite. Although it sounds weird, there is also a very cool Pettibon beach towel, part of an amazing artists series.

I’ve gotten lucky over the years, and picked up some good examples, at prices I could afford.

With too many interests, and too little time, I’ve had to edit my collections, staying focused, and after years of searching, Pettibon’s have made it into the collection. Buying what I love has been the filter.

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.

I was lucky to have parents who cared about good design. Early toys included the smooth wooden blocks and trucks from Creative Playthings. In fact, inspiration for the Creative Plaything pieces were the Froeble blocks, that caught the attention of a young Frank Lloyd Wright.

Manhattan Beach in the mid-60’s wasn’t a mecca of modern design, but Southern California was becoming one. The Arts and Architecture magazine sponsored Case Study houses had people thinking about how they were going to live in different ways, and new materials, building techniques and the cultural zeitgeist had people thinking about life in a more modern way. As an architectural history student at UCLA, I came to appreciate how cultural and political thinking was manifested in architecture, from the craftsman movement through post-modernism. The modern movement reflected the time, and new rules for design replaced the old playbook.

What Manhattan Beach did have was a legacy of pottery. Metlox Pottery on the corner of Manhattan beach Blvd and Valley Drive, cranked out plates, cups and saucers, in the colorful California tradition best ascribed to Bauer. But, farther East, on the corner of Aviation Blvd and Rosecrans, stood the home of Architectural Pottery (AP.) While mostly a factory, the Architectural Pottery factory included a store, and the highly sought after factory seconds that could literally be had for under a dollar. I have vivid memories of exploring there, after my elementary school at Grandview School—based on a Richard Neutra design, so we did have some architectural inspiration in Manhattan Beach.

Founded in 1950 by Max and Rita Lawrence, the company’s unique take on large and small scale planters and accessories, received immediate attention from design cognoscenti, and was included in the 1951 Good Design Exhibition and included most of the young company’s pieces form their initial catalog. AP designers were many of the same thought leaders making the most influential art, and designing the cutting edge products and homes that were defining mid-century modernism. Good design attracts good design and the most influential architects of the period, Rudolph Schindler, John Lautner, Richard Neutra, Raphael Soriano, Gregory Ain, Pierre Koenig, and Richard Dorman included AP design in many of their projects. AP designers like ceramicist LaGardo Tackett, and furniture designers like Paul McCobb and Malcolm Leland became synonymous with the AP brand. Replacing terra cotta flower pots with the smooth design, matte glazes and the cool colors of AP helped blur the lines between indoor and outdoor living. Shapes like the Peanut, defined the brand.

, Doughnut, the hourglass and candleholders I had all but forgotten about AP, but when I began to become a serious and passionate collector of mid century modern furniture, I rediscovered these iconic design pieces I had loved as a kid. My parents still had a few pieces that I was able to take over, and while searching for mid century furniture around the country, I found amazing examples of AP places as far from Manhattan Beach as St. Louis and Honolulu; from serious collectors to flea markets. There was still plenty of AP around Manhattan Beach, and I knocked on doors and looked over back fences and amassed a very cool collection. Pottery collectors are an interesting lot, and border on compulsive. Moving to a new house four years ago, I chose to really edit much of my collection and keep only the favorites. These include an ultra obscure stylized Polar Bear design, candleholder, an orange hour glass, Peanut and various diamond planters. My good friend Louie Kallas is particularly fond of the more organic David Cressey pieces, defined by their volcanic glazes.

While original pieces are tougher to find, they’re still around, and as prices of most collectibles have dropped, there are some good values still on eBay and at the domestic auction houses. San Diego based Vessel Pottery has done an amazing job of painstakingly recreating many of the AP designs, and authentically reproduced the glazes and finishes that are unique to AP. Started by a fellow collector, and reproduced with the attention to detail that only a collector can provide, Vessel pieces happily live side by side with my originals.

“Made in America” isn’t just an uber patriotic screed imploring you to buy a Dodge Charger before Fiat gets its hands on the marque, and makes the new Fiat 500, 2010’s Mini Cooper…BTW, I love the 500, old and new.

Rather “Made in America” handcrafted clothing, luxury goods, work wear, boots and clothing have become a filter for taste-making hipsters. There are several great blog, including my favorite, A Continuous Lean,  — dedicated to the subject, and while I never thought of it as a filter for my key purchases, I’m inspired by those that are really taking it to heart. Classic brands like Alden, Hamilton Shirts, Red Wing Boots as well as independent artisans are leveraging the materials, i.e. Horween Shell Cordovan that only a few of the old timers had access to. More to come later on Alden and Horween in a future post.

That brings me to Filson. Much has been written, discussed, blogged and Style Forum’d on the sale of this Seattle company and what would become of their American made clothing bags and luggage. While some manufacturing has moved offshore, the company’s mainstay bags, leather goods and luggage continue to be produced stateside. I put a lot of miles on my bags, and while often derided by my working colleagues, I’m not afraid to check a bag…sure it adds time and isn’t as cool to do so, but I love having the stuff I want with me when I get wherever I’m going. Early in my career, I was a traveling TV syndication salesman—selling shows for Disney first, then to Fox…Shows that started with Wonderful World of Disney reruns, through A Current Affair, to The Simpsons. Traveling around the country, this was the era of garment bags and Haliburton suitcases. No one had seen wheels on luggage yet, and most people checked their bags. I’ve been through the Hartmann phase, the 80’s Cadillac of luggage, on to San Francisco’s Glaser Design bags, through North Face duffles, and now to Filson. My bags of choice are the Filson medium wheeled check in bag and the extra large wheeled bag duffle. I also use the medium field bag and rugged twill tote bag as carry ons and briefcases.

But this post is an ode to the Filson medium wheeled check in bag.

This may very well be the perfect piece of checked luggage when traveling on biz, meaning an extra pair of shoes or two and a couple of suits. Think more than 2 nights, up to 2 weeks. I’ll admit that I’m goofy about bags, and I’m now applying the same rules that apply to T-shirts and sneakers—a new one comes in, and old ones gotta go. I’ve been sucked in by the allure of UK Based Globetrotter, having first seen it at Tokyo’s Beams. I also have been called to by the ultra high end Tumi Townhouse . The major difference is that the Filson pieces, aside from being beautifully crafted in waxed cotton, I prefer the otter green, and bridle leather which ages magically, are actually kitted out with thoughtful pockets and shoe pouches. While 3-4X the price of Filson, the Globetrotter and Tumi are basically big boxes, and you’re left to your own devices when it comes to a packing scheme. You may have gathered from other posts that I’m a creature of habit, and that carries through to my packing ritual. Suffice to say, the Filson layout is logical, works and makes sense.

In terms of build quality and wear, my Filson bags have seen many miles over the last 5 years. No issues, and they look better than when new—that’s the idea isn’t it? In London two weeks ago, an Abercrombie knock-off store in Nottinghill was selling pre-distressed Filson bags and duffles at 3X the price of brand new bags. Like distressed jeans, that’s just silly. The ultimate road worn bag of beauty belongs to my dear friend and colleague Mike Murphy. 3+ years ago, we all pitched in to get Mike the padded laptop bag for his birthday. Mike doesn’t travel light, and the Filson is always fairly stuffed. It’s seen the world and shows the miles that Mike has put on it building an amazing team and company. We all take great pride in seeing the bag—looking better now than when new.

While Brad and Angelina have been paparazzi’d dragging babies and Filson bags through JFK and African airports, the same goes for Twilight star, Robert Pattinson and his Filson duffle. Up and coming design houses have been working with Filson to build bags that leverage Filson craftsmanship, while putting their own spin on the product. Collaborations and mashups are nothing new, but it seems as if Filson is being thoughtful, and the limited edition collaboration designed by Apolis Activism is a great example. I pre-ordered one.

The Filson motto is “Might as well have the best,” and for the money, there really isnt a reason not to.