The Art of White.

Todd White is a painter that lives in southern California, but he's originally from Texas. His pieces concentrate on musicians, revelers, and women. I was first introduced to him by a print in a store that looked exactly like a good friend of mine... beautiful and feisty. The picture below is called Dibbs. Between the suit, the hair, and the tumbler it was easy to find myself in the painting.




Again... a bit of likeness.



For me White captures the scenes that I want to see exist... Parties where women sip wine in strapless evening gowns and men dress more like the characters of Ocean's 11 than Dodgeball.

Things my ex-girlfriends taught me.

1. All of your clothes are too big.
2. She's dirtier (read more sexually adventurous) than you are... no really.
3. Tell anyone about the previous statement and you will never benefit from its truthfulness again.
4. When life gets tough first... shut up... second... hold her. Repeat until the tears stop.
5. Similarities between she and her mother should be noticed but never discussed.
6. The fact that the rules change every day when she wakes up pisses her off just as much as it does you.
7. Always take a jacket to the movie theater... always.
8. At special events coordinate with what she's wearing... because basically... you're a purse.
9. Always compliment her shoes.
10. Winning the battle usually costs you the war.


Someday soon I'm going to follow up this post with a list of all the things my wife has taught me... Right now I'm on number 457.

The Pastoral Urbanite

Rock and roll is ultimately a pose. And despite the fact that at some point in the history of what is called punk, "poseur" was about the worst thing anyone could call you, the whole point was posing until the pose took and your dreams became authentic. Today, in the world where the Bowery is where millionaires live, authenticity is what you make of it. I wear it, therefore I am.¹ - Glenn O'Brien

I am the Pastoral Urbanite.

Its a pose I'm convinced. But with Mr. O'Brien's definition in mind, its a pose I'm willing hold until it takes.

I dwell in a small college town, but I've lived in a big city.
I've gazed from the vista and teetered on the building ledge.
I've trudged a dirt road and I've hailed a cab in the rain.
I've towered in the pulpit and wallowed on the curb.

What I've learned is that either place has things I love and things that I hate. So now I spend my days and nights with a woman I love looking for the balance of life. A life where success isn't defined by the size of my house or my ability to fit within the accepted norms of the people around me. A life with fresh basil from the garden, picked while still in the suit and tie from the workday. A life where Sinatra is just as likely as Kanye to turn up in the playlist. A life full of friends from every background and discussions from every position. A life with bicycle rides for groceries, pictures of my smiling children, and nights on the sofa figuring out if the world is actually going to hell in a hand basket.

The pose I choose is to take the best of the urbane, mix it with the fruits of the pastoral, and make a life worth living. Sometimes it will read like a poem, more often like a magazine, and sometimes like a farm report. But it will be as honest as I can be while holding the pose.

Thoughts on Esquire's Portable Style Manifesto (in 3 parts)

1. The suit's got to fit. Esquire is right. While a general slide toward casual is devastating the suit market, you walking around like you're wearing your dad's hand me downs isn't helping. However true the rule is please ignore Esquire's oft quoted hand in jacket trick for checking your size. Buy your suits from a reputable retailer who has a measuring tape within easy reach. Your body type and personal style have a lot more to do with how your suit fits than how big your hand is, but generally you're suits are probably too large and your slacks sitting too low.

2. Respect the tie. Tuck in the shirt. Button the jacket. Get it right, all the time, every day. Esquire, again, is right. There are times to loosen your tie, untuck your shirt, and unbutton your jacket but those times are exceptions. Those actions are sloppy and their power comes from judicious use. If you use them every day then you'll just come off unkept. Instead take 10 minutes every morning to make sure your tie knot is immaculate, your shirt is tucked nicely, and you coat is appropriately buttoned. You're trouble will be noticed even if no one knows exactly what they're appreciating. And the next time you loosen your tie at the office you'll make a statement instead of a whimper.

3. Something on you person should always make a statement, and that statement should preferably be "Go to hell." Yes, again but tread carefully. This is one of those rules that can be easily overdone. Make a statement... Don't make a soliloquy. A belt buckle, odd socks, your lucky dice cuff links and a paisley pocket square all on the same day makes a statement where you're the punch line. One statement of personal style at a time is good place to start and if you're really up tight starting with something generally hidden is fine.

Then the morning comes...

All the empty vessels are in the trash and the glasses are in the dishwasher. The lone fallen soldier (a white wine glass) has been placed to rest, his remains where all good stemware go when they can no longer fulfill their duties. The revelers slumber while the banana pancake batter and bloody mary mix await their zombish walk into the kitchen. This is one of my favorite times...

Last night we celebrated my wife's birthday. Twenty or so of our dearest friends, with a few heartbreaking exceptions, filled the patio. Spirits flowed, cheese was munched, and recently murdered basil tempted our taste buds galore.

It was a costume party complete with representatives from Hogwart's, nSync, and Shawn of the Dead... I'm not sure how it could have been any better. There was the one friend who never gets drunk but decided to over do it. There was my gay friend teaching all the women about straight sex. There was an appropriate amount of PG-13 nudity and plenty of stories from parties long since past.

But as I worked the party, complete with Hugh Grant costume, mixing with the crowd and mixing drinks. I realized something that I've always known. I love my wife....

The most intoxicating thing at her party was not the tequila or the even the 18 year old Glennfiddich... It was her. Dressed as her favorite character from A Midsummer Night's Dream, laughing, and talking and generally being irresistible. Cursing without being vulgar, drinking without being drunk, flirting without crossing the line.

So today I'll make sure I tell her... I'll tell her how perfect she was last night and how amazing she looked this morning... And I'll remember that without her birth date... and all the birthdays that brought her to me... life would lack the spice that makes it worthwhile.