Named for the local businessman who helped bring Trinity College to Durham in 1891 (Trinity was renamed Duke University in 1924 in his honour), The Washington Duke Inn and Golf Club will be an experience in exceptional guest service. It’s the sort of place where you are greeted by name, even though you’ve just checked [...]]]>

Named for the local businessman who helped bring Trinity College to Durham in 1891 (Trinity was renamed Duke University in 1924 in his honour), The Washington Duke Inn and Golf Club will be an experience in exceptional guest service. It’s the sort of place where you are greeted by name, even though you’ve just checked in. It’s a business hotel that has embraced the casual guest without losing its efficiency or feeling that you’re traveling on an expense account.

What I particularly enjoyed, aside from the suite booked at a decent price (they match prices quoted on Expedia and Travelocity for the hotel, by the way), were the photos and memorabilia of Washington Duke’s great-grandson, playboy turned diplomat Ambassador Angier Biddle Duke (1915-1995). He was the youngest American Ambassador in history, starting his Ambassadorial career at the age of 36 and serving in El Salvador, Spain, Morocco and Denmark. He was also Chief of Protocol to Presidents Kennedy and Johnson. I’ve got a soft spot for the Foreign Service, I’d dreamed of a career as an FSO as a young man. The threat of the exam and the fact that I didn’t get into Georgetown School of Foreign Service kept me from pursuing that dream.

All that aside, the flag, keys to cities, medals and above all, the photos taken during the Ambassador’s career, are fascinating to me. As Martin Landau says of Cary Grant in “North by Northwest”, “He’s a well-tailored one, isn’t he?” (You knew that I was going to bring this all around to something sartorial, didn’t you?) Smart, too. Read the account by Ambassador Timothy Towell of a famous swim in 1966 here.

(A glimpse of Ambassador Duke just over the President’s shoulder.)

Here’s the photo I wanted to use, but it’s rights protected. None of these matches the wonderful family photos that you see lining the wall of the corridor that leads to The Fairview Dining Room at the Inn. If you get a chance to stay, take it. You won’t be disappointed.

Trolling through the J Crew, Polo and other outlets didn’t yield the same bounty that it has in the past. Barrie Station, which has quit carrying J. Crew, did have the Martin & Osa (fun trivia: Martin and Osa are the husband and wife from “I Married Adventure”, how’s that for marketing research?) woman’s (I’m [...]]]>

Trolling through the J Crew, Polo and other outlets didn’t yield the same bounty that it has in the past. Barrie Station, which has quit carrying J. Crew, did have the Martin & Osa (fun trivia: Martin and Osa are the husband and wife from “I Married Adventure”, how’s that for marketing research?) woman’s (I’m sure) cotton and silk scarf (USD$5) that I’m wearing above. I’m anxious to wear it à la Cary Grant, with my grey flannels and Hackett striped sweater. If the weather continues to cool, it won’t be long. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, as with any new purchase, I’m anxious to get wear the scarf at any and all occasions. The day we came home from the beach, Mrs. E. and I, in an effort to stave off the inevitable return, ventured out to a local wine bar (Secco — and worthy of its own post; magnificent!).

Back in town for a Saturday night, I “dressed a little better than I had to”, starting with my neckerchief worn as a pocket square with an open necked white shirt.  Nothing fancy.  Then I ran across the tie that had that flash of colour so nicely coördinated to the square. I’ve never worn this tie before. It’s a Custom Shop number that I picked up at TJ Maxx, lo those many moons ago, for all of USD$5.00. The tie is a statement, a retro influenced thing that is decidedly out of fashion. It may even be considered hideous. Mrs. E. thought it “fun” and so on it went.

That’s the thing about ties, they are a personal statement.

But, beyond that, ties — like the rest of your clothing — should serve one purpose: to call attention to your chiseled, tanned and magnetic countenance. This one may. I say “may” because it is such a vintage look that it calls attention to itself. But the pattern, being vertical, does lead to the face. A striped, club collar shirt worn pinned and a pair of spectators would have edged the look into costume, however appropriate they may have been. So I took them off. I couldn’t resist adding the collar pin though; a vintage tie begs for it after all.

Wear your statement, quirky, original things. But wear them sparingly and one at a time.

Many thanks to LBT for the idea to address Riviera Style. A reader lives in Menton and may be able to give you a more recent and thorough examination of the local scene. Unless I get an offer to write the “Riviera Style” book. Here’s what I remember and how I did it [...]]]>

Many thanks to LBT for the idea to address Riviera Style. A reader lives in Menton and may be able to give you a more recent and thorough examination of the local scene. Unless I get an offer to write the “Riviera Style” book. Here’s what I remember and how I did it anyway.

(Sara and Gerald Murphy in Antibes, 1926)

(DoctorMacro1.net the Annex.)

Things have changed a bit since the illustration and the photos above. These days Riviera style may be a bit more “global”. I imagine it is like Long Beach in California. Beach people are beach people. Yes, you sill still find a few striped sweaters (chic for women still), white shorts (cut along tennis short length), (Peter) Polo shirts, sweaters thrown around a man’s neck and a few espadrilles, but these are fashions favoured by the older population.

And me.

(Late last summer.)

(Reading the paper at the villa Lou Paradou.)

(Antibes, late 90′s?)

These days, however, you will see a lot more jeans, white (I bet) or blue, worn with dark or wildly coloured short-sleeved shirts and boat shoes. Those down from Paris for their annual holiday will be more fashionable, which isn’t always a good thing. I remember a lot of capri length trousers on men when Beckham was wearing them. Ugh.

You’ve heard that wearing shorts in Europe marks you as an American. Not anymore. Especially at the beach. Shorts (tailored, few cargos), t-shirts and trainers are all standard daywear. Women will break out sundresses for day, especially for work, but fresh jeans are just as likely. It depends on the temperature. Life at the beach is universally laid back. Dry cleaning is expensive.

I remember seeing one woman leave a bank in Nice, walk across the street to the beach, take off her sundress to reveal most of a bikini, lie down on the dress and sunbathe for her lunch break. Nice is a fine place to land. St Tropez, that famous playground of the rich, is really a fishing village with a nine month season. It’s pretty deserted during the winter holidays. At least it was when we visited during Christmas or after American Thanksgiving. It became famous, infamous perhaps, because it was anti-establishment, a place that catered to the party crowd where rock stars rubbed … elbows… with the yachties and groupies. Cannes has been glamorous since the 1960′s when the bikini clad starlets waiting to be discovered discovered the paparazzi. Riviera Cocktail, chronicles the transformation pretty well. Here’s a bit of street style from May.

F. Scott and Zelda tramped around our beach a bit. It was in St. Raphaël (or Fréjus) that she met her aviator. These days the twin towns are the destination vacations for Germans, a few English (there is an enclave somewhere; we met two at the Church library), and a lot of French. There were a lot of Africans, Algerians and other former colonials who sold trinkets to the tourists; I’m sure some of their kit was fashionable with the boho set. Hip hop had made in-roads and there were a lot of ball caps worn askew, gold chains, wallet chains, basketball sneakers and baggy shorts to be seen on the youth. Ludicrous. Of course, I can’t speak for the clientele at l’Hôtel du Cap.

The couple of times that we ventured out and visited nearby casinos, I was the only one in a sportcoat and tie, as I’d already surmised that a suit, much less a dinner jacket, would be out-of-place.

Off season everyone wore blue jeans, grey worsted or black trousers with loafers and open-necked dress shirts. The women were better dressed and always in heels. The older population, looking like extras from Central Casting, lounged around the pétanque courts, or shopped at the market on Saturday. Fishing boats still worked the water.

With the resurgence of classical menwear, I’d be curious to see if white linen suits, Bermuda shorts, loafers and buttondown shirts are de rigueur. Lily Pulitzer’s splashy motifs wouldn’t be out-of-place in the Mediterranean sunshine. There’s a local version for swimwear.

The Vilebrequin swim trunk was invented in St. Trop in 1971. The first pair was made from spinnaker canvas, which weathered well and dried fairly quickly. I’ve also heard that that first pair was made from a red and white checked tablecloth. At USD$165+, Vilebrequin is still the choice of the well-heeled crowd. These days they’re touting the father-son connection. The same designs come in jr. and sr. versions. At the same prices.

I may have mentioned it before, but it was during our last trip and we were in Antibes (former playground of the Murphy’s), eating at a marvelous restaurant called “Les Vieux Murs“. The place had recently been redone, but the view out that marvelous window was still there and so were some of the regulars. In through the doors that night walked a sliver maned millionaire. He must have been. Deeply tanned, longish silver hair, open necked blue and white butcher’s stripe shirt, cream trousers with side tabs and a pair of velvet embroidered slippers. He had slipped in on the tender to pick up a cold bottle of pop and a light supper. Whilst he didn’t leave with a laden hamper, neither did he take himself back to the boat. A crew member did. He could’ve taken the helicopter, I suppose, but where would he have set down?

When I think of Riviera style, he pops into my head. He was probably English.

Off to Beantown.