Style Report 12-4-07

The proto-simians who employ me have decided our second shift crew needs to be moving around all shift, inside and out. This will last until nobody answers the phone, at which point we will be instructed to never ever leave the instrument unattended.

I have decided to treat this as an opportunity to lose a few pounds and test out some layering ideas that have been percolating in my head.

The tweed sack jacket - not a Harris, but similar heft - came from eBay; shown here with a Brooks Brothers pink oxford cloth buttondown and a thrifted wool tie, Lands End cotton sweater vest, cotton pocket square from J. Press and a scarf that was donated to Space Camp by a local chiropractor.

Olive non-iron chinos from LL Bean, argyles from Joy of Socks and the Alden Pursuit Shoe form the bottom half, and a Timex Easy Reader on a strap from Central Watch complete the whole shtook.

I also had a Irish wool cap and gloves for the outside portions of my tedious but busy evening.

Parts of the ensemble could be jettisoned as necessary; I was also wearing long johns and silk sock liners, so I was perhaps a little toastier than usual.

But I was glad of the extra stuff when doing the rounds outside, at 22 degrees and a lovely, bone-chilling wind that came straight from the Arctic Circle, with brief stopovers in Saskatchewan and Buffalo.

NFL '07 - Week 13

Well, even with Thursday's loss in the 10-point Dallas win over Green Bay, I remain sanguine.

Why? Because even at 73-81-8, I'd still be in the running if I wrote for the New York Post, where none of the alleged experts are over .500.

And because I don't bet on the games, anyway.

*****

I am up early Sunday morning, after working the swing shift, because I am a highly dedicated professional sportswriter-type.

I meant to get up.

But that doesn't excuse my nitwit neighbor, who snores like a buffalo with sleep apnea, and does so right through her radio-alarm.

And I hear all this, clear as a bell, right through the wall.

I've tried pounding on the wall. I've tried knocking on the door, but she won't answer. I've tried the property managers, but they would rather complain about my occasional enjoyment of a cigar.

So I guess it's earplugs and meditation. Silent meditation, you rat bastardette.

*****

On with the week:

NYG - 1.5 at Chi: I think Tom Coughlin has one last dose of good Catholic guilt left in the tank, and he'll pull it out here.

NYJ + 1.5 at Mia: Jets at Dolphins, or When Worlds Collide.

Cle +1 at AZ: In general I think the middle-tier AFC team on the rise is far better than the middle-tier NFC team at home any day.

Jax + 6.5 at Ind: The Colts just get by teams they should annihilate, and they always have trouble with the Jaguars.

NE -20 at Bal: All the offenses have been studying the Philly game plan against the Pats from last week, but what they should be waiting for is this week's tape, which will reveal how New England adjusts after a relatively poor showing (Monday night).

The rest:

StL -3 vs. Atl

Buf +6 at Was

Min -4 vs. Det

Ten -3.5 vs. Hou

SD -6 at KC

Phi -3 vs. Sea

Car -3 vs. SF

NO - 3.5 vs. TB

Den - 3.5 at Oak

Pit -7 vs. Cin

Style Report 11-29-07

The deal was this: I had a headache the size of Oklahoma after spending the better part of two shifts in Space Camp's medications room - an airless, hot closet filled with slowly-baking medications.

Vitamins, in particular, have a pungency to them. And bottle after bottle, in said airless hot closet, produces an Instant Retch Reflex (or IRR) in the poor shnook who must go in there to supervise the self-administered medications.

So I felt lousy and was in no mood to try any creativity. This is where the Formula comes in handy.

It doesn't get much more basic than a navy blazer and grey trousers. Add a banker's (or candy) stripe shirt with a buttondown collar, an Argyle & Sutherland regimental tie (also known as "The Guy Tie" because everybody's got one - except me, with seven), and a pair of old Haig and Lloyd brown wingtips, and it's out the door, ready to go.

The pocket square is more than most men will go for, but they are integral part of anything I do so I barely notice them. (It's a Drake's square, by the way, bought on the cheap from the folks at Sierra Trading Post.)

Blazer, shirt and tie are all Brooks Brothers and all eBayed or thrifted. The trousers are medium grey worsted wool, lined to the knee, flat fronted and cuffed, and are made by Jos. A. Bank (via eBay, again).

The socks came from the Overstocks section of the Lands End website.

You can't really see the trout fly design on the tie clip. I used it to keep the tie out of the way when med-slinging.

Putting the look together took about three minutes. It's Trad by the Numbers, and I am unapologetic about it. Formal enough to look professional, or go out to eat; informal enough to shuck the jacket, roll up the sleeves and get busy with the vitamins.

Total cost? Maybe $150 - call it 10 percent of retail. Factor in hours spent rummaging around church sales and foraging on eBay, and it's still a pretty good deal.

Selah.

NFL '07 - When Greedheads Collide

Tonight the 10-1 Dallas Cowboys host the 10-1 Green Bay Packers in what might well turn out to be the most entertaining game of the regular season - and most fans won't see it.

The game is on the NFL Network, which reaches 37 households.

Okay, maybe a few more than that, but the league and the cable companies - most notably Time Warner and Comcast - can't agree on a deal.

You'd think they'd split the difference, since everybody's already making more money than God in this racket, but no.

The NFL Network will ultimately make it to your cable system, and you will pay for it, one way or another.

The Cowboys are favored by a touchdown; I am inclined to take it and the Packers. I keep remembering those errant long snaps from the Dallas center - one hit QB Romo in the head when he wasn't looking, and two others sailed right over his head.

And this feels like Round One of the eventual NFC title match anyway. So Green Bay plus seven tonight, heard locally on WFAN (660 AM).

NFL '07 - Week 12

New England's Bill Belichek modeling the official NFL "Homeless Shelter" line of sportswear. The Patriots are giving 23 points to Philadelphia today.

Three for three on Thursday, and here's the rest of the story:

Den +2 at Chi

Ten -2 at Cin

Buf + 7.5 at Jax

KC - 5.5 vs. Oak

Cle -3 vs. Hou

Sea -3 at StL

Min +7 at NYG

NO -3 at Car

TB -3 vs. Was

AZ - 10.5 vs. SF

SD - 9.5 vs. Bal

NE -23 vs. Philly (McNabb out for Eagles)

Mia +16 at Pit

Thrift Shop Specials, or How To Look Like a Moneyed WASP For Pennies On the Dollar

Thanksgiving evening. The mission: Dress appropriately for work, a task that involves looking professional, yet a bit frivolous, in keeping with the holiday. The shift at Space Camp will involve a lot of walking around, going in and outside... and enduring whatever fresh hells that can be conjured up by a crew of 50-odd unhappy souls spending the holiday in rehab.

The solution - The Standard Navy Blazer and Grey Pants.

But with a few twists. First of all, the Brooks Bros. blazer is an old model, and a 3/2 sack cut. That means the jacket has no darts - those ugly-ass seams in the jacket front - and the top button is rolled under the lapel and has no real function.

I found the jacket at the Goodwill in Torrington, Conn. - $3.50, and required no alteration.

The tie is from the Lands End overstocks section - great source of good quality neckwear at a very reasonable price.

The suede Allen Edmonds Hancocks add a touch of informality to the whole thing, as do the pocket square and argyle socks. The AEs came from eBay seller Grapevinehill for about $100; the square from Sierra Trading Post and the socks from the Brooks outlet in Lee, Mass.

The trousers are from LL Bean and a bit of an experiment - at full retail they wouldn't cut it, but for $60 or so it was worth a shot. I didn't order them cuffed as LLB tends toward the miserly inch and half.

The Orvis watch - the "Snows of Kiliminjaro" model - has a strap from Central Watch, and the J. Press oxford cloth buttondown, with the flap pocket, was obtained from an Ask Andy About Clothes.com member whose office went biz casual, to his dismay and my great benefit.

Total cost of everything: $200 or so. At retail, easily $1000.

The Cinema - "I Eat Your Skin" : Misleading Title, Excellent Fashion

(It's okay - he's with the calypso band)

Two exciting facts about 'I Eat Your Skin":

• There is no skin-eating in the film.
• Auteur Del Tenney was from Connecticut and once made a good film, 1964's The Curse of the Living Corpse, which had real writing, a real script, a real editor, and real actors, including Roy Scheider in his screen debut.

"I Eat Your Skin," also made in 1964, wasn't released until 1971 as the second half of a drive-in double bill with "I Drink Your Blood," a hippie-biker rabies epic.

It had been sitting on the shelf under the title Voodoo Blood Bath, but the distributor liked the "Last Supper" imagery on the twin bill poster. ("I Eat Your Flesh" would have been better, but it was taken.)

Novelist Tom Harris writes smutty best-sellers and spends his time poolside at the Fountainbleau in Miami, reading aloud from his works to a crowd of bikini-clad housewives. His agent, a clenched-jawed WASP named Fairchild, hatches a scheme to go to this island where a scientist is working on a cure for everything and, oh yeah, there are supposed be eighteen kinds of poisonous snakes and zombies on this island.
So they go because a pudgy bald guy in a Dacron suit is chasing Tom (with malice aforethought) for horsing around with his wife. So what the hey?
During this opening sequence it is apparent that director Tenney has achieved something remarkable: this is the first American film made for domestic release where the words don't match the lips. At all.
It's as if it was dubbed into Korean and dubbed back from the Italian translation of the Korean by a crew from Portugal.
This results in happy accidents such as the pudgy bald man shaking his fist and yelling "I getting you am son of beech!"

(No touch football?!)

OK - there's a whole lot of plot which I won't bore you with. It's sufficient to relate that the zombies are real, the voodoo priest wishes to sacrifice the blonde, the scientist is fairly evil, the other guy is completely evil, the good guys escape, and the island blows up.
The zombie transformation scenes are entertaining in a primitive fashion; their eyes bug out through the caked-on makeup, making them look like trout that have been lightly coated in corn meal and fried. (If you don't believe me try it.)
The voodoo dancing is pretty good but ultimately tedious, as is the sight of Tom with no shirt.
The clenched-jawed WASP looks like what you'd get if you stirred the genes of Robert F. Kennedy and William F. Buckley together and told the result you were outlawing touch football and madras pants.
As a period piece, I Eat Your Skin is mildly amusing. One decapitation. One extended blast of voodoo dancing. Girls in bikinis. Man in Dacron suit shoved in pool. Bad prose read aloud to girls in bikinis prior to man in Dacron suit getting shoved in pool. Exploding zombie. WASP climbing a cliff in loafers. Mad scientist. Snakes. Code Yellow ethnocentrism - enough to be noticeable, but not egregious enough to be funny. Short.
Two coils.