If I could save time in a bottle, it would have to come with a twist-off cap, so that I could pop the top whenever I found myself with too much to do and not enough time to do it right.

“Ah, another case of Chateau d’Elegance… so soon, Monsieur?”

I’d better take two. Time, as I’ve recently been reminded, is the ultimate luxury and the lack of it is the true and sworn enemy of elegance.

Living better — that is moving easily and elegantly through life — requires a certain measured pace. Like the sang-froid of the gentleman, who reveals nothing when faced with crisis or faux-pas, the stately progression through one’s day must be zealously guarded against intrusion by outside forces…

Cue interior monologue:
My cell is ringing and I’ve got to take this call; I have a new email invitation, text message from whom? And the mail has just been delivered. Oh damnation, I’ve got to call him back, immediately and deadline is three hours away if I’m to make the last FedEx… voice mail will have to wait. I’ll just lunch at my desk, here and if I skip my workout… .

Well, the next thing you know, your shoes aren’t polished, the car isn’t clean, your room is a disaster, your suits lie in heaps and neckties are strung from the doorknobs. Your easy and elegant existence has, like time, flown.

Time to set things right. I began yesterday with a flurry of cleaning, that involved Lowe’s and rolls of plastic sheeting (don’t ask… roofing issues…) I counted the hour moving solid wood doors and an armoire as my workout (and should have remembered to stretch afterwards.) The house is more or less in order, and I have completed two writing assignments ahead of deadline. There remain a report due tomorrow, the growing mound of laundry, and some sort of physical activity to undertake. Oh, and a few things to mail and two calls to make.

Am I, as the French say, “stressé, pressé“? Mais oui.

The trick to easing a little elegance into daily life is to live a little as they did in the days before “connectivity.” Tonight, I plan to finish our typical movie-of-the-night early and read a bit before bed. The radio news is ignored during the day and the television is on only if I am ironing or folding. (The Complete Emma Peel Collection is a favourite.) An afternoon stroll with my dog lets the fresh air do its work on my brain. In short, I will try to slow things down.

Which brings us to today’s lunch. A light luncheon is a delightful way to wile away a half hour or more and portion control is the easiest way to manage your weight when your workout routine has be sabotaged.

In with a little classical music piped through the downstairs. Making the every-day elegant is one of my aims in life, and that applies to a routine meal thrown together from what is on hand. My pantry was sadly lacking in Dover Sole and sliced almonds. But I did have some of the makings of a typical French après-marché meal or Plowman’s Lunch, if you prefer. I should have had a little sliced ham, but didn’t. I substituted salami, which I did. Cornichons are very traditional. Two hard cheeses instead of a camembert or other soft cheese — in this case they were a Monchego (or Basque hard cheese) and a bit of extra sharp cheddar. I had a half of a Roma tomato to use up… so… The quignon (end piece of a baguette) was to sop up the dijon vinaigrette I poured over the green beans. (You may also boil some new potatoes and toss them with the vinaigrette and some parsley, too. A hard boiled egg would not be out of place, either. A sliver of paté is perfect. None of which was readily available today.)

The small glass of wine is a homemade walnut wine that was a hostess gift from a French exchange teacher one year and tastes a bit like a very light-bodied port. Its sweetness works against the tart pickle and salt of the cheeses very well. A sparkling lemonade or water would be fine, if you’re at work and brown-bagging it. An espresso and a square of 70% dark chocolate is all the dessert I require.

Little by little I will regain a toe-hold in my self-made universe.

Inspired by {this is glamorous},I thought I’d post on one of my favourite items of summer apparel: the Breton Sailor’s Shirt. (That’s one I’m wearing in the photo aboard The Fantome.)

The French sailor’s shirt has been a staple on beaches from France to well, France. And sometimes you see them in ads (Jean-Paul Gaultier is a fan), or on famous artist’s backs (M. Picasso’s, most famously and perhaps alone.) Gerald Murphy outfitted himself and the crew of The Weatherbird in them.

Weirdly enough, my shirts are by an English-sounding company: St. James and were purchased in Nice, close to the port, across the street from that English-language bookstore which yielded a roughed-up paperback copy of “Casino Royale” and a Penguin edition of “My Man Jeeves.” A banner shopping day.

The shirts are French, though, originally the wool was produced in Normandy, not far from Mont Saint-Michel, in the fortified city of Saint James. Yes fortified, it’s that old. Having been founded by William the Conquerer, Saint James was also one of the stops on the traditional Christian pilgrims’ route to Santiago de Campostela. The company that produced and sold the wool went public in 1929 and by 1950, it was outfitting lifeguards in France. Today, there are a number of designs, colours and even articles of clothing produced by Saint James, but it’s still the striped fisherman’s shirts and button-shoulder pull-overs to which I gravitate.

I’m not sure that this is a look that everyone can pull off. You will be noticed — boat necked, long sleeved, striped, heavyweight cotton shirts tend to get noticed, especially in a sea of Tommy Bahama t’s and the odd Aloha shirt. To say nothing of the sweaters that button at the left shoulder. They also look phenomenal on women, where the boxy cut accentuates without clinging. The cut is boxy, at best, and the shirts are much better with some age on them.

But with a good tan, a pair of blue linen drawstring pants, white shorts, or jeans they are hard to beat and will never go truly out of style. And don’t forget your espadrilles. They’re already staring anyway.

Traditionally, Easter is the time to break out the spring clothes. Brighter colours, lighter shoes, maybe even a straw hat. Spring, after all, is the time of renewal. Renew your commitment to dress a little better than you have to this Sunday, regardless of the weather, and who knows? Maybe you’ll find that you’re in the rotogravure.

In the meantime, enjoy der Bingle as he croons this weekend’s number one on the hit parade. Happy Easter and see you on the avenue.