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    8 Jul

  1. "…kalmpjes als een net burgerheertje op weg af naar je graf"

     

    Intusschen liep ’t beminde dichtertje kalmpjes als een net burgerheertje zijn wegje af naar z’n graf en op ’t Damrak en op ’t Rokin en in heel Amsterdam en overal ging ’t verkeer z’n gang, alsof er aan ’t dichtertje niets gelegen was.

    Hij maakte wat promotie in z’n betrekking en erfde een kleinigheid, veranderde gaandeweg van kleermaker en schoenenwinkel, kocht toen ook dat witte flanellen pak, rookte geregeld sigaren van vier cent inplaats van tweeëneenhalf, had ten slotte zelfs een kistje in huis, droeg fijne overhemden en niet meer van die dikke wollen sokken, waschte z’n handen voor en na ’t eten, en gaf iedere week enkele guldens uit in cafés, alleen en met z’n vrouw. Hij verheugde zich in den beleefden groet van z’n sigarenwinkelier en in de eerbiedige familiariteit van den conducteur op lijn twee. Op kantoor werti door de jaren wat ijveriger, begon wat van z’n werk te maken en het gebeurde zelfs datti ’s avonds terugkwam, ofschoon z’n baas de lui daar nooit om vroeg. De concierge respecteerde hem steeds meer, hield ’m voor een heele geleerde. Zelfs zijn tante uit Delft of Oldenzaal begon tegen ’m op te zien en knikte goedkeurend als Coba haar verhaalde hoe haar neef vooruitging. Hij zelf sprak er nooit over. Hij was nu geabonneerd op ’t Volk, ’t Handelsblad en de Groene, lid van de Partij en den Algemeenen Nederlandschen Bond van Handels en Kantoorbedienden. Op vergaderingen kwam i niet, maar als ze bij hem kwamen met een steunlijst voor een werkstaking of om een uur loon voor de Partijkas, dan gaf hij hun een sigaar en Coba schonk een kopje thee en dan praatte-n-i heelemaal niet uit de hoogte met ze en teekende voor een riks of vijf gulden en bracht ze tot de trap en trok de deur voor hen open. Hij was toch zelf ook maar in loondienst en had als jongen ook zoolbeslag en hoefijzers onder z’n schoenen gehad en heel vroeger in een huis gewoond waar de buren altijd de trapdeur open lieten staan en aan tafel gezeten met een pan rijst, voor dat z’n vader dat werk had gehad waar i zoo aardig aan had verdiend.

    En toen i weer opslag had gekregen aten ze voortaan iederen dag soep vooraf en Coba kocht drie zilveren servetringen, voor Bobi ook één, en wilde voortaan geen brood meer meenemen als ze ’s Zondags de stad uitgingen, wat ze nog heel lang gedaan hadden.

    Ook z’n vrinden waren vooruitgekomen in de wereld. Bonger, de dokter en Graafland, die hoofdcommies was bij de post en ’t boekenschrijven had opgegeven en van der Meer, die in automobielen dee en ’t dichten verachtte. Die niet vooruitgekomen waren zag je heelemaal niet meer. Daar had je Kool, die altijd z’n brood met z’n twee handen at en die zoo lang had geprakkizeerd om de wereld te hervormen, datti koloniaal was geworden. God weet waar die nu zat, eerst hadden ze mekaar geschreven, maar toen had dat opgehouden, je wist niet meer wat je schrijven moest. Hein hatti een tijdje geleden nog eens ontmoet. Die moest en die zou schilderen. De ziel der dingen schilderdeni, maar ’t bracht nix op en toen z’n vader was gestorven hatti heelemaal nix. In jaren had ’t dichtertje hem niet gezien.

    The yuppie in proze anno 1918 in Nescio’s Dichtertje and in print advertising (by Bob Krieger) for Canali menswear anno 1987 (via): “…kalmpjes als een net burgerheertje op weg af naar je graf”. As if it wasn’t bad enough. For all the white collar slaves reading this. 

    yuppie scum monday yuppie canali 1987 nescio dichtertje bob krieger

     
  2. 4 Jul

  3. Hipster shit #6.1: Beards and button spacing

    Oh hey some object by David Adamo in the background here, and yet another appearance by Chris and Jeanette. Some - like Glenn O’Brien - say there are no clothes that flatter the fat and/or portly, that dressing for these unfortunates is first and foremost one big excercise in damage control. I share this opinion, however partly as a public service and partly to satisfy my and your curiosity, I’d like to share an example of damage control.

    As we establishd earlier Christian, unlike Jeanette, needs all sorts of help. Fortunately, he is able to find and afford the tailors that can accomodate for - and camouflage his flab. What cunning and cutting wizardry do we detect here? Well, dear readers here you see the effect of properly horizontally spaced blazer buttons. The shiny units, crested with the coat of arms of Fürstenberg no doubt, are placed in such a way  that reduces the ‘overlap’ of the centre fronts of this traditional double breasted blazer. As a bigger overlap would produce a widening effect. Anyway more examples here. Now what if you are a ‘bigger guy’ (how I love euphemisms for euphemisms) and happen to be unable or unwilling to pay for custom blazers? You can try fighting underlying causes instead of symptoms by reducing your calorie intake and increasing your metabolic rate. The superior solution, anywhere anytime. Picture via Badische Zeitung

    christian zu fürstenberg blazer hipster shit double breasted

     
  4. 3 Jul

  5. Hipster shit #6: Let it all hang out!

    There was an Old Man with a beard, who said, “It is just as I feared!— Two Owls and a Hen, Four Larks and a Wren, Have all built their nests in my beard!”

    From Edward Lear’s Book of Nonsense, pictures of Christian zu Fürstenberg and significant other in front of Michael Sailstorfer's Schwarzwald (via). There is nothing intelligent I can say about angular shadows in German forests and I feel I must admit I never even tried to come up with something. Luckily this is a fashion blog so I don’t have too, let’s go on to make two trivial observation about things I do care for. Here goes: that green linen bag of wrinkles Chris threw on is almost as rad as Franceso Clemente’s. In addition, his crafty and devious use of facial hair and untucked dress shirts almost managed to obscure his tendency to corpulence. Well played, you fat bastard. 

    christian zu fürstenberg linen jacket hipster shit

     
  6. 29 Jun

  7. The Colour of Ugly

    by William Lower

    With the exception of tiger lilies and the fruit that bears its name, orange is a colour that should really keep to itself. Orange is ugly.

    Every few years, the fashion industry and trend setters of dubious origins spin the colour wheel of misfortune and pronounce the coming season’s dominate colour. It is inevitable that periodically the colour wheel comes to a pathetic and grinding halt on ugly orange. Like this year, for example. To make matters worse (which fashion people are prone to do; I give you bell-bottom pants if you don’t believe me), fashion leaders sometimes augment orange with neon thus requiring sunglasses when viewed. The fashion people see this as an opportunity because as luck would have it, many of them also market sunglasses. Even orange ones.

    In the 1970’s, orange was a dominant colour. Not only were cars painted orange but even airplanes. If you fly in small airplanes such as the Cessna 1972, it is not unusual to find many still flying today that were manufactured in that dismally orange decade. Planes are judged not so much by their age but by their hours of flight. So why are there so many orange 172’s still around? Because they are so ugly no one wants to fly them and hence, they remain low time aircraft. And speaking of flying, look at the countries flying flags with orange in them. Been to Bhutan lately? How about Nigeria? Sure, I know Ireland has orange on their flag. But not because they wanted to. It’s just that the British used red, white and blue and the Irish could have nothing that resembled anything British. Germany has orange, too. But from a country that gave us Porsche, Mercedes Benz, Zeiss lenses, Leica cameras, Bauhaus design and Nina Hagen, we have to allow for some indiscretions. No one is perfect. Not even the Germans.

    Fast food restaurants provide further evidence on the ugliness of orange. (Fast food restaurants prefer to be known as Quick Service Restaurants; a term only people in the industry use and only then because if they don’t and refer to themselves as ‘fast food’, they will be fired.) However, after consulting with behavioral psychologists and industrial interior designers, many fast food restaurants chose to have orange as a large colour component in their interior design. Why? Because studies show that people tend to eat more quickly and leave sooner when eating in a predominantly orange setting. The quicker people leave, the more people they can serve. Why do people leave so quickly? Because if the food doesn’t do it, the colour orange is enough to make them sick.

    Speaking of sick, the Ontario’s, Ministry of Health (Canada) owns a small fleet of helicopters that serve as air ambulances. Not only are they orange, they are even called orange except they dropped the letter “a” and called themselves “Ornge”. Ask any fixed wing pilot how helicopters fly and they will tell you, “They are so ugly, the earth repels them.” Add the ugly colour orange and you have double duty ugly and a seriously airborne object.

    On an even sicker, darker side of orange we have some notable examples, the most telling being a chemical weapon test marketed in the US Vietnam war. Did they call it ‘Agent Chartreuse’? ‘Agent Lavender’? No. It was Agent Orange. A nasty bit of business and thankfully not one that lasted.

    What does a person do if they are born with orange hair? Do you see them referring to themselves as ‘orangeheads’? No. They call themselves ‘redheads’. Why? Because even the word ‘orange’ is ugly. Orange is not only ugly, it can be downright frightening. It is the predominant colour depicting Halloween in North America. And if you want to rot the teeth right out of your children’s gip, just stuff them with orange dye-coloured candy. That ought to do the trick. Or treat. “Ah!” you say, “If orange is so horrible why do companies make so much orange-coloured packaging, like Hershey’s Peanut Butter Cups?” The answer to that is simple marketing. Orange is so ugly, consumers are prone to ripping the packaging off as quickly as they can and hence, tend to eat the candy equally as fast. The faster they eat it, the sooner they will buy more. Duh. “That doesn’t explain Tide laundry detergent” you respond. “Proctor and Gamble sure knows what they’re doing.” Indeed they do. Orange is so ugly the box of soap practically jumps off the shelf (can you spell ‘sales’?). And once in someone’s household, where does the ugly box of orange Tide laundry detergent end up? In a cupboard or laundry room with the doors shut so no one has to look at it.

    "Orange beach towels and beach toys for children!" you exclaim. "Why are they so popular? They’re associated with sunshine and fun!" Elementary dear Watson. People are predisposed to buying orange beach toys and towels precisely because orange is so ugly. If they get washed out to sea, who cares? You let those rip tides rip. And take this ugly orange towel with you.

    Well, my little pumpkins, that pretty well sums my diatribe on orange. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to retire to the drawing room with my coffee and carrot cake.

    Things will get very ugly for Mexico indeed, as team orange plays ever more efficient and unattractive football. Style versus results? I am with Johan on this one. Pictures of Paul Fentener van Vlissingen at SHV headquarters, 1987. From the ANP archives

    orange paul fentener van vlissingen double breasted 1987

     
  8. 23 Jun

  9. Creased denim (&tweed)

    Still favoured by Asian and African hotel laundry services, but also by ageing aristo’s and avvocati. Portrait of David Somerset at Badminton by Derry Moore. Brought to you in Warholian repetition

    david somerset denim tweed agnellism derry moore