This just in, The Scout’s documenting the process of craftsmanship behind the quality goods made by the Brothers Bray of Billykirk, an all plaidout favorite. The film is currently in production. Look for it at The Scout this fall.
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Waiting for everyone to unravel the red box, they began to lay into their approximation of the Old Spice theme: a series of “dunhs” which warbled into a version of “The Scottish Hymn” that was as rank as their after shave. Continue reading
There’s a reason I’ve been trying to get James to write something for me. One of the more impressive men I’ve ever met, he lives his life like he runs his site, clean and simple, and cool as a cucumber wedged in a Pimm’s Cup. I’m happy to report I managed to drag him out of his well-appointed Secret Fort just in time to share a few words on his father.
This isn’t about my father’s style necessarily, although he had it. Nor is this about what my father taught me, although that is plenty. It is, however, a complicated thing to sit and try to do this, in that it is certainly the first time since his passing that I have confronted the idea of actually writing about him, to sit and try to distill something succinct about what he was to me and what he left me with. I will try to keep it light. I apologize if I fail. Continue reading
In a conversation about our fathers, Chris Olberding of Gitman Bros. Vintage, shared some funny tidbits about his dad’s style. I asked him to send me an e-mail outlining the keys to his father’s style.
My father dressed in a style that was a cross between mid-80s sportswear/workwear with a touch of post-hippie throwbacks:
* Helly Hansen Windbreaker, Patagonia Stand-Up Shorts, original New Balance, usually worn with a heavy wool sock
Before I started this site, there were a handful of folks I looked to for inspiration. James Fox’s 10engines has an element of the personal that few others can match. He’s able to tie the actual in with the aspirational better than just about anyone, and he’s extremely knowledgeable on a number of subjects. Must be in the jeans, er genes.
Things my father taught me: how to shake a martini (aged 7), milk a cow, drive a tractor, tie a bow tie, sharpen a carving knife, polish shoes, make an omelet (hell, how to build a hen house, raise chicks, pluck feathers, keep a ‘chicken bucket’ under the sink for food scraps, collect the eggs THEN make an omelet).
The guy named his blog The Impossible Cool. Need I say more?
“He didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.”
-Clarence Budington Kelland
The salty water swirls around my back. The sun beats down on my already burnt shoulders. I’ve been in this water for close to an hour, which for a 9 year old seems like an eternity. Especially one that, for now, is mildly scared of the backbay that snakes behind Avalon, NJ. I’ve already drunk enough of the briny wash to last a lifetime.
“One more try!” yells my Dad from behind the wheel of his Boston Whaler, the boat that currently has me tethered twelve feet behind it. “You can do it…just stay focused! I’ll start off slow. Wait and let the boat pop you out of the water.”
He gives me the thumbs up and eases the throttle forward. The boat launches ahead. A wave of water engulfs me as the engine screams. I can feel my tired shoulders being pulled up. I am a human cannonball being dragged behind this vessel.
“Just remember to keep knees tucked, knees tucked until it feels like the right time.” I tell myself.
Dad’s words repeat over and over in my head. Stay focused.
Something clicks. I stand up. The old skis plane out below me.
I’m out of the water in one piece…I did it. Dad lets out a heart-felt “YEAH!” and raises his arms in the air. Nothing else in the world matters to me at this second. I am a world champion water-skier.
We cruise around the bay for a while, a huge smile across my face. Dad looks back every once and a while to make sure I didn’t fall off and float out to sea.
We eventually get back to where we started and I drop the rope, gently gliding towards the back of the boat. Once I’m back on board, shivering, Dad tells me with a smirk…
“Next year I’ll teach you how to slalom.”
He stuck to his words. Along with eventually learning to slalom, my Dad would continue to teach me hidden lessons all throughout life. The words he told me that day always lingering behind each one.
“You can do it…Stay focused.”
It’s not until later in life that you begin to realize the gifts your parents give you in your youth. This one has always stuck with me, through ups and downs, no matter the situation.
So thanks Dad.
These knees are tucked…forging ahead…staying focused.
Happy Fathers Day.
In the last few months, this guy has become a close friend. I’m forever impressed at how well-spoken he is and forever more impressed by how effortlessly well-dressed he is. Sometimes, I think they do it better in the south. Mr. Capps, he of Brooklyn by way of Nashville, makes a strong case here.
First of all, my father will be the first to tell you as far as casual, weekend fashion, there’s not a whole lot to it besides unwavering comfort. Looking through old photographs, the items don’t really change much from the time he was my age to today. A pair of sneakers with denim or trousers topped with a knit polo. However, regarding finer dress, suiting, I learned all I know from my father. Whether it be the basics on ties or the fit of a jacket, he taught me from a very young age how to do it right. Looking back at pictures of his father, you can definitely tell it’s something that my grandfather taught him along the way. Always dressed in a narrow tie, pressed trousers, and crisp white shirt. While I don’t have the means to share a picture of my father, featured are a few photos of my grandfather in his everyday suit. The best part is that it’s damn near the same cut and look of my father’s suit with a bit more hair on top. As I grew older, found my own way, and began to try my hand at throwing on fine-tailored garments, he helped along the way but also allowed me to make some mistakes.
When it comes to life, his lessons are all centered on how to lead a happy and successful one. Hard work, a willingness to take a chance, and the notion that life is too short to take anything too seriously are three things that were instilled in me early on. Whether he and my mother realized it or not, through all my years of not knowing what the hell I was doing, those three things stuck with me. They’ve certainly played a part in where I am today, and I couldn’t give my folks enough thanks for everything.
– Brandon Capps, Drinkin’ and Dronin’
To know these guys is to love them. While I’ve yet to meet the youngest, Stenn, Shea and Raan have told me he’s the true winner of the family. That’s saying something. What I know of Raan and Shea, two-thirds of the operation that is Apolis Activism are kind, funny, long-in-the-tooth gentlemen truly of Southern California stock. They may act and sound laid back or devil-may-care, but these guys are taskmasters, with the growth of their brand to show for it. In less than five years, they’ve become players in the menswear game, and Apolis is as important a brand as anything out there. It’s with honor I let them wax for a while on their dad, Lindsay Allyn Parton.
Our father Lindsay Allyn Parton, is a man who has passed down values of hard work, generosity, and friendship. He’s always emphasized the importance of friendship and the difference between what is important (people) and urgent (the next task). His trademark style and taste helped us to realize at an early age that there is more to dressing yourself than neon Patagonia Synchillas.
Uncertain if we will be able to match his salt-and-pepper Mafioso pompadour, but his trademark monogram cuffs and his ability to make everything look effortless are key measures of style that we hope to inherit.
– a 44” regular Canali suit
– a 17” by 35” shirt from The Custom Shop Clothiers in Washington DC
– reversible Montblanc belt
– a size 10.5 suede Gucci loafer
– a Panerai Luminor watch
– some classic Persols
– puffing on an Opus X cigar
– sport: baseball, football, golf, skiing, surfing, tennis
– authors (historical fiction, biography): James Michener, Saharras brothers and father, Dave McClough, Vince Floynn, Ayn Rand
– family vacations are essential
– b. Jan. 16 1953, Shannon Road, Campbell, California on the outskirts of San Jose, 1hr 15min South of San Francisco
– Jacqueline Parton and Stan Parton
– football accident: 15 yrs old, compound dislocation of tibia and fibula, never healed correctly
– in college played baseball, tennis
– 1975, Graduated from Westmont University, Santa Barbara, School of Economics & Business
– personal travel before raising a family: Europe, Mexico, 6 months Middle East / Europe
– Started in a building materials business, Duncan’s Home and Garden Center, role: General Manager
– Parton and Edwards Construction (1982), specializing in custom residential construction and evolving into commercial and institutional construction (1985-on)
– Wed Dec. 15, 1979 to Laura Lee Coulson, happily married for 30 years
– Three Sons: Raan Davis Parton (1981), Shea Michael Parton (1984), Stenn Garrett Parton (1986), Chuparosa Drive, Santa Barbara, California
– Raan, Shea, and Stenn, Apolis Activism
Thanks to early supporters of this blog, Miss Porter and Miss Hollister Hovey, I met Mr. David Coggins of Art in America and Interview Magazine and the blogs Definitive Beards and Exit Lines at speakeasy, Milk & Honey. Since then, I’ve leant on him for advice, many an opinion, and an edit here or there. He has always been very gracious with his time and his talents, and here again, he provides as only he can.
I’ve done my best to represent what was sent as it was sent. Mr. Coggins uses a typewriter, and I imagine he’s formatted Word to best estimate its look and feel. If you click on the image below, you can read what he wrote in its fullest splendor.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Filmmaker and blogger extraordinaire, Jake Davis is attuned to an aesthetic so similar to my own, its remarkable how often I visit his site and think, “Oh, man! Beat me to it.” He’s a hero, hammering out the hits time and again, and he does such a good job of explaining style — something I struggle with daily. I’m so honored to have his words grace the pages of all plaidout.
I think more than anything my father gave me a level of taste. And as I’ve gotten older and have met a wide range of people from the cool street kid to the uber-celebrity you learn that taste has nothing to do with money. There’s an inherent taste level in all things. And there’s a value in that… Not a price tag but a value.
My father taught me to share that taste with the people. Now, there was never a sit down lesson. It’s just the way he is. So I feel with my music videos, commercials, and films there’s a certain taste level that I try to achieve. It’s not something you can put your finger on. It’s just there. And when I haven’t achieved it. He’s the first person to let me know. Tough love and shit.
There’s an endless influence when you have someone so willing to share themselves with you like that. But if I had to give one example of the lessons he taught me that have had the most resonance it’s the times where he provided me the opportunity to be the person I wanted to be, but always let me know there’s an origin to everything.
“Jake, that Beastie Boys record you love so much samples this Beatles album. And the Beatles were influenced by this album. Check it out.” He was never a hater like most older people are for the new shit. He always made it a point to understand the new shit and provide the necessary information to me to make tasteful decisions.
If at age six he hadn’t bought me that first Public Enemy cassette, gotten my pants tapered and hemmed, and introduced me to David Lynch films I’d be a completely different person. That’s for sure. I was able to understand what I like at a very early age. And for that I will be eternally grateful because some people spend their whole lives trying to figure it out.
So instead of a picture of the old man and me. How about a typical lesson. Here’s a still from my new video for U.S. Royalty featuring my friend lead singer John Thornley. And here is the origin… Martin Sheen as Kit in Badlands. Always do your homework just not necessarily at home.