Style for Life



The New England gentleman still exists.


He is in the garden with his now frayed Turnbull & Asser challis shirt and broken in Henry Poole corduroy trousers. The trousers are wheat in color, although thirty five years old, they still look remarkably fresh. A dubious blood stain on the front leg is a remnant from a pheasant hunt in his younger days. A well worn pair of John Lobbs suede Hilo chukkas in an exquisite shade of whiskey.


He is just up the road, just beyond a majestic stone wall that dates back to the 1700’s. Driving his John Deere, wearing a pair of olive gray H. Huntsman moleskin pants with a blue flapped pocket J. Press button-down oxford and a pair of low cut LL Bean hunting shoes, an old Submariner, a pair of A.R. Trapp translucent milk colored specs and pipe in mouth.


He is the elegant chap walking his equally elegant great dane on North Street on a cold late fall morning. Donning a magnificent vintage Anderson & Sheppard camel hair polo coat bespoken by his father two decades earlier. A pair of Kiton brushed cotton pants and a gorgeous pair of Cleverley Chelseas he only recently to took delivery of rounds out the look.


He is the intriguing, well known landscape architect. He has worn his one and only Patek Phillipe every day of his adult life. Strapped on, surveying properties, digging holes, chopping wood, he wears it all the time. One fine day on his own property he had on a well worn blue gingham Charvet with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of equally worn 501’s tucked into a pair of black galoshes with metal clasps, and damned if he doesn’t have on that Patek as he picks up rather large stone to continue the wall that is his pride and joy.


He is also the nobleman in the back country with his choice 100 acres. After a light breakfast, one of his dozen pure thoroughbreds has been mounted awaiting his command. He is wearing a Huntsman cheviot check riding jacket, and old Ballantyne cashmere turtleneck and a pair of Huntsman covert twill breeches with black Lobb riding boots creased in all the right places.


He is with pickaxe in hand in the upper hills negotiating a rootball. On this chilly late winter morning he wears a bespoke Hellman Mayfair shetland tweed sport coat. It is matched with a vintage Frank Foster striped shirt, a Domenico Vacca cashmere tie and a pair of mid-wale Turnbull & Asser corduroys. A wool/cotton tattersall check pocket square and a pair of US made Wellies.




No shoulder pads at all. Just an amazing unpretentious rope that as purposeful as it is elegant.


A single button, because that’s all you need.



A super high armhole, and body hugging bodice allow for freedom of movement and comfort that really inspires manual labor.


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