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Back to Basics #13:What You Wear Should Flatter Your Body

Courtesy of GQ.com

As I looked through my RSS feed of blogs and articles, I noticed that the super-spread collar (or cutaway collar) was still considered a must-have for men. I like the look of them, they work with the bulkier fabrics and bigger knots that come with winter ties (You do select tie fabric appropriate for the season, right? We'll come back to this later) One problem: If you have a face that's too round, you'll look like a cartoon wearing a collar so wide. Fashion says you need it, but personal style is based on not only your likes and dislikes, but what works with your body.

Take your shirt collar. The shirt and all of its details should make you look better, complement your face, and provide a frame for your tie, not remind people of hot air balloon.  There are multiple factors that go into what works for you personally. Long neck? Thick neck? No neck? Round face? Square face? Just dealing with the spread--the distance between your collar points--the shape of your face impacts how wide you can go. The issue is balance; the broader your face, the narrower the spread you want. You want your face to appear longer, not wider. The standard straight point collar has a spread of approximately 2 1/2 inches; the super-spread collar gets as wide as 5 inches. A angular or narrow face can handle that broad a spread, but with a round face, it will make you look fat. And I'm certain that's not the look you're going. So, figure out your face's shape and dress accordingly.

Goodbye, Filene's Basement, Goodbye

I'm here to mourn the loss of a friend. The announcement in early November that Filene's Basement, the discount retailer out of Massachusetts, was filing Chapter 11 and closing all of its shops floored me. I was just in Boston, but couldn't bring myself to walk into the shop on Newberry Street. The sting was still too fresh. It was like the scene in The Wire when Bunk asks Kima how McNulty is taking it after finding Stringer Bell gunned down, "Like [it] was family," with me sitting with my head in my hands, wondering what just happened.

Since the mid 90s, Filene's Basement was my go-to for basics from white shirts to patterned socks. Men's local clothing departments or men-specific retail was scant in DC. I was too old to outfit myself at Urban Outfitters or Up Against the Wall. Britches of Georgetown would close by the beginning of the new century; Woodies, Raleigh's, and other men's clothiers went out of business years before. There were some small shops with hot clothes, but for the most part, what was left were national brands (J. Press, Brooks Brothers, Polo), most of which were incredibly preppy or old. In a town with limited men's retail, Filene's Basement was my saving grace. I found incredible odd pieces, purchased brands I'd heard of, but couldn't afford at retail, and outfitted new wardrobes for new careers.

During lunch hours, I'd stop through Filene's and scope out the latest arrivals. Over the years, I purchased Armani, Bill Robinson, Wilkes-Rodriguez, Ike Behar, Hickey-Freeman, Dolce and Gabbana, occasionally Valentino, Canali, in pieces big and small. As the pioneer in automatic markdowns, you could track when an item would be reduced to a price point comfortable for you, assuming supply lasted. If something you wanted stayed on the floor for 30 days, you knew you could get it at 60% off the original price, or more. A perfect combination for the budget-conscious and sartorially-inclined. Eventually, online shopping, increased retail opportunities, and a larger income expanded my options, but I could still count on Filene's for staples and surprises. Yes, you had to wade through racks and tables and really crappy stuff to find diamonds (black seersucker jacket from Hugo Boss at 25% of the original price, Incotex pants for 15% of original price) but it was worth it. I shopped for me and for others there, particularly at this time of year.

Now, as the Holidays approach and with a January closure set for the century-old business, I sing a verse of Auld Lang Syne and say goodbye to a friend. . . after I make another couple of purchases.

Requiem for a Scandal

I lost a bet to a co-worker. I bet him that Joe Paterno would make it though the season and be allowed to retire on his own terms. By now, you've read the stories about a former Penn State assistant coach who had multiple improper relationships with young boys. You know about another assistant coach, then graduate assistant, who saw Jerry Sandusky in the Penn State athletic facility showers with a 10-year old boy, reported it to Joe Pa the next day, but didn't intervene. You're aware that Paterno kicked it up to the athletic director and that beyond that, nothing happened. Despite the horrific nature of the offense, the grand jury testimony by assistant coach Mike McQueary and Paterno, the perjury charges against AD Tim Curley and Vice President Gary Schultz that amounted to acknowledgment and intentional neglect, I was willing to bet Paterno would get the chance to finish out the season.

If you think I am naive or worse, insensitive to the alleged crimes, don't. What happened to the young boys was a tragedy, a series of abhorrent acts that makes my stomach turn and makes me want to take a Louisville Slugger to Sandusky's knee caps. As a father, I'm repulsed. As a man, I'm angry. But I thought that the college football machine and cult of personality surrounding Joe Pa would allow him to go off into the sunset. The equivocating language used by Paterno, Curley, Schultz, and former President Graham Spanier, said Penn State had made their choice and would protect the institution and its most prominent staff member over the interests of the Sandusky's victims.

And for a few days, my bet looked good. Sandusky was arrested, Curley and Schultz were put on administrative leave, but no mention of Joe Pa. Paterno tried to author his exit with an albeit it tone-deaf, end-of-the-season retirement statement, which seemed it might be enough for the weak-willed people in charge. High-level athletics have allowed many a sin to be glossed over, covered up, with hundreds of faceless victims left to suffer in its wake. And I say this as an unabashed fan of sports and athletics. Then, the stories of Sandusky still coming around with kids as late as 2008, his still using the gym a week before the arrest, and excerpts from the actual testimony from the grand jury leaked out. Public opinion began to catch up with the scandal. It was just a question of when the President and ultimately the coach would be let go. I lost my bet at around 10 pm on Thursday.

The defense of Paterno with "He's 84!" "He told the authority. It wasn't his fault Curley didn't act!" "What about McQueary?" wasn't going to hold. The same measure of power that I thought might save him did him in. The reverential power he holds in Happy Valley--he is the hegemonic leader of Penn State, regardless of title--meant he could have dealt with this situation. Why he didn't investigate more--out of loyalty to Sandusky, out of protection for the program, or what ever the reason--from a family man, a religious man, a man who has groomed boys to become men for over 50 years, was a question that he eventually couldn't avoid and couldn't sufficiently answer.

So, on Saturday at noon, Penn State will roar out of the tunnel to face Nebraska, without winningest Division 1 football coach for the first time since Eisenhower was president. McQueary is now on administrative leave and neither he nor Curley nor Schultz will see Christmas in Happy Valley. I'll pay my debt of an India Pale Ale, and raise a glass with my colleague. I'm not upset that I lost. Too often this sort of thing gets swept under the rug (youth hockey, soccer, and swimming have all been in the spotlight over the past decade) and although late, it seems there will be some reckoning for Sandusky. The kids won't ever be made whole by any of this, but at least they might find closure. I won't shed a tear for Joe Pa or any of the other adults who chose not act while kids suffered. Perhaps the kids who will play Saturday will learn the lessons that their mentors obviously forgot to practice.

Cocktail Friday: Mexican Coffee

Friday's here. It's a long weekend--Happy Veterans Day to all those who have and do serve this nation. Here's to hoping you have something incredible planned.

As I was checking in on Twitter and the morning crew (#TBC) recently, the idea of a meet-up was the topic of the day. Spurred on by coffee and the thought of tequila, we plotted our little soiree. The weather has made a definitive shift, so combining coffee with tequila was a thought. Mexican Coffee! Now, given our informal group of early risers are dispersed around the nation, it's going to some time before we actually pull this together, but in the meanwhile, I thought I'd provide a recipe for the drink, just to practice.

Some Mexican coffee recipes don't actually have tequila in them. Just coffee liqueur, coffee, and whipped cream, with maybe some cinnamon. But the definitive recipe from Mr Boston's does (sorry about that, Ty).

Courtesy of TheBar.com

1 oz. coffee liqueur (Kahlua, Tia Maria, or a generic band)
1/2 oz. tequila
5 oz. coffee
Whipped cream

Stir tequila and liqueur into a coffee mug of coffee. Top with whipped cream. A dusting of cinnamon is optional.