New Year's, Baby

Just look at the red cheeks on that bellboy...

Man About The House

At some point in the last four years, I've realized, I've turned into a thoroughly domesticated husband, almost along the lines of this game if rather puzzled-looking Kennedy-era paragon.

Funny That Way

A remarkable little treasure turned up today in The Guardian; I'm genuinely shocked I'd never heard of it.

Box It Up - I'll Take It

Sometimes I think it's really on Boxing Day that we ought to be getting presents. Failing the gentleman himself, those fetching little boots might do nicely.

Fancy Running into You Here!

"Well, it is a season for chance meetings, isn't it?"

An Ethical Dilemma

So, what do you think?

Meanwhile, in the Attic...

"Well," thought Sir Edgar, "Isobel has little enough to worry about, poor fool - she wasn't even awake for the worst of it."

Like It Is

I bet he does.

Meanwhile, at the Hunting Lodge

Sir Edgar paused for a moment, staring out into the rainy garden.

Forget Christmas...

...I'd like someone to get me this for Boxing Day.

Meanwhile, at a Fashionable Soirée...

Another fraught moment of the Gilded Age...

Fine and Dandy

When it's proved to be one of those weeks (and I won't deny this is one, O Best Beloveds), sometimes all it takes at least to start to feel that little bit better is to spend a while looking at the alluring work of M. René Gruau.

Known more for his ultra-chic ladies, resplendent in New Look Dior, Gruau (born, you know, the Count Ricciardelli delle Caminate) is almost equally adept at turning out very fetching gentlemen.  His swooping, calligraphic lines, so free and yet so precise, are somehow particularly attuned to bringing life to a very specific kind of urban type, cosmopolitan and good humored; his men all seem to be variations on the type that dear Mr. Ethan Mordden has immortalized in his own persona: The Cocktail Dandy.

Here we see an especially example, looking very dapper in his Ben-Day jacket and cap, his discreetly arched brow promising at the very least an amusing afternoon out - ending perhaps in a quick drink at one of those quiet little bars over on the East Side, on the edges of Covent Garden, or in the shadow of the Opéra Comique.  After that... who knows?

And after a trying week, isn't that an awfully attractive prospect?  Much pleasanter, you know, than reality just about now.  But that, I think, is point of disappearing, now and again, into le monde de Gruau...

Meanwhile, in 1909...

Having delivered his shocking confession, Lord Throckmottle fell silent.  Pulling on his meerschaum, Sir Antony Londerbaugh gazed up at the abashed aristocrat quizzically, appalled to think that his old school chum could have got up to such antics while off on the Continent.

Bertie fforbes-Hamilton, meanwhile, resolved to find the address of this Pensione Regina Vittoria post haste; it certainly sounded better fun than the dull hotel of his last stay in Firenze.  "Moroccan houseboys!" he marveled to himself, "Who would have dreamt they could think of such bully things to do with an ear trumpet?"

The Perils of Nightlife

Not long after midnight, Trent's evening took a turn for the worse.  By dawn, nothing was ever the same again.

A Chance Encounter

When, on their honeymoon at Deauville, the newly wedded Lord and Lady Splafford met up with good old Algie Templeton-Drake,  Lord Splafford realized slyly that he knew a great deal more about Algie's Prince Albert than Winifred would ever guess.

File Under "Thoughtful Holiday Gifts, Not"

Just in case any of you are still casting about for the perfect present for the old man on Father's Day, why not try something that will truly mortify?  And at just $2, you'll still have plenty to get something nice for yourself.  Or just go whole hog and get him a garter belt and heels, too...

A Curious Initiation

And after she did, it's safe to say that in many ways, Lady Viola's life was never quite the same. 

Before that afternoon was out, actually, thanks to the kind attentions of both Mr. fforbes-Hamilton and Lord Cloghdermere (neither of whose Christian names, incidentally, were Richard), she had caught sight of a great deal more.

The Buddy System

After all these years, Chet and Ted had it down to a science.  Chet would pretend to read a letter from his Dad, and Ted would start in slow.  If something developed from there, well... Betty and Elaine weren't due home from the Junior League 'til 4:30.  Some things had never changed, not since that first magic summer at the Charlotte Watson Memorial Presbyterian Bible Camp back in '56.

Meanwhile, at the Cookout

"Oh, Christ," thought Carol, grimly setting the picnic table for yet another disastrous barbeque, "there goes another batch of hamburgers. Sometimes I wish those two would just screw and get it over with. And get Shirlee, with her goddam surprised act. If she hasn't figured it all out yet about her Ed, I'm going to have to draw her a picture."

Misty Watercolored Mem'ries...

That season at Baden Baden, in those permanently sunny days before that sad unpleasantness at Sarajevo, would be just the dimmest of recollections were it not for those stolen hours with Prince Boris.

He was importunate - and had fabulous hair - but I simply could not see myself in a Balkan context. Good thing, too; nothing turned out well in that part of the world for the next eight decades or so...