Seersucker and Sazeracs

The City/Country Dilemma (Part 3)

Ryan Lee Waldron — Fri, 25 May 2012 16:49:47 +0000

If you've yet to read the first two posts in this series, please begin here.

One might describe the image of “Country Life” as rugged, Outdoorsy, rather casual (read: Blue jeans), refined, and pastoral. For “City Life,” the average American is more likely to envision suited businessmen, cocktail parties, and cutting edge technology. Generally, the dissimilarity is that of sophistication versus naiveté. This is a broad stereotype that is simultaneously an antiquated fallacy and a modern misconception. In the world of computers and interstate highways, one may live in a rural area, but enjoy all of the benefits that an urban setting offers. Furthermore, this distinction certainly wasn’t as rigid several decades ago. From the initial habitation of the South, until well into the twentieth century, oftentimes the country was thought of as the place of greater civility. Prior to the Second World War, a common depiction of cities was that of dirty places filled with criminals and hustlers, whereas the folk of gentility lived on plantations out in the cleaner fresh air of the Rural South.

From whence did this notion of Country as Rural and City as Sophisticated arise? Why did the South so drastically make the aforementioned change after during the Post-war period? It has its origins in the Suburbs. Suburbs popped up like weeds in the era following the Second World War in response to servicemen returning stateside, often with quite a few dollars saved up. These young men coalesced with their new families (at relatively young ages, too), often times in parts of the country that were both geographically and culturally distant from the places of their origins. The common culture in the suburbs was not that of their region, but that of the country as a whole. In an era busting with patriotism and pride for the whole of the United States, these suburbs became havens for cultural homogenization.

I identify with the Urban South, but I’ve had my love affair with the Rural South.

Both of its faces define the South’s inimitable character. Each is unique, but each is also distinctly Southern, and the South wouldn’t be the wonderful region it is without either. With two unique faces that have blurred to define the one region we might ask how one would then define our land. That which is distinctly NOT Southern is the burbs. That statement is incorrect, as it would imply that there is something distinct about general suburbia; nothing is distinct about it. Applebees and Culs-de-sac and Targets may be familiar faces that one can comfortably recognize anywhere he goes, but none of these things purvey the magnificence that our fine region demands. They deliver only mediocrity. Homogenization leads to this mediocrity; and it was for this reason that I could contemplate living in the country, be drawn to the city, but never really even consider suburbia.

So does this mean that the South defined more by its rural side? Does all of this imply that the urban side of the South delivers its distinct culture? I hesitate to say either; but that which I am sure of is that the South is not defined by its suburbs. The suburbs represent the America that is non-regional, and the South is if nothing else a distinct region, and a region deservedly proud of its distinction. So, whether you see the South as a land of Pickup Trucks and Hank Williams, or you see Debutante Balls and Downtown Lunch Clubs, realize that both of these airs are important and relish the wonderful region we have down here.

The City/Country Dilemma (Part 2)

Ryan Lee Waldron — Thu, 10 May 2012 14:30:34 +0000

To understand my viewpoint, I am going to provide my background as a portal through which one may gaze.

I was born in the city limits of New Orleans, and it was there that lived for the first ten years of my life. Those first ten years were spent in a non-descript (by New Orleans standards), middle class neighborhood of turn-of-the-century to craftsman style houses. I lived in the very house that my grandfather had grown up in (but the house had been in the family well before he was born). The houses were close and everything we needed was right around the corner. As time passed though, the neighbors we knew moved away, the neighborhood fell into decline, and nearby areas became downright dangerous. Wanting me to grow up in a safer area, my parents’ eyes lit up when casting a glance at the ‘burbs.

We moved to River Ridge, a “Census Designated Place (CDP) in unincorporated Jefferson Parish, LA” as I finished the fourth grade. River Ridge is a sea of residential blocks pushed up against the Mississippi River, just 10 minutes outside of the city, but a world away in charm and attitude. Bound between the small cities of Harahan and Kenner, the only area that wasn’t purely residential was along the major highway that ran parallel to the river, as if it were the spine of the area. 1960’s ranch houses with 30+ foot setbacks stretched out much further than my 10-year old self dared to walk or ride his bike; it wasn’t as if there was anything other than a Taco Bell, a Blockbuster Video, and a drugstore to go to, though. It has all of the charm that one would expect from the moniker of a “Census Designated Place.”

So was my youth completely sheltered from anyplace not a 10 minute drive to a city center? Absolutely not! But, my experience outside the city wasn’t down a dirt road to a farm just outside of small-town-sville. It was instead down a long straight state highway extending to what was, as far as I could tell, the edge of the world – Cocodrie, LA. Cocodrie is a land an occasionally dry place where only a few types venture, Oilmen, recreational fishermen, and Oyster Fishermen. It wasn’t always Cocodrie, but the handful of other places (Ysclocskey, Point a La Hache, Bayou Dularge, and Delacroix were all equally likely destinations) were almost indistinguishable. These are places where a heavy Croation accent is 50 time more likely to be heard than a Southern Drawl. There are few trees, mostly just a strip of asphalt extending out into some marsh grass surrounded by open water. It was a definitively “non-city” experience that involved parking in shell lots and sons taking over their father’s trade, sometimes before High School graduation. It was not “country” though. But maybe this was just because often Louisiana isn’t exactly like the rest of the South… or anywhere.

High School would see me to the city every day, and College would return to it my residence (at least during the school year). For college I wasn’t in the same part of the city that my previous experiences were, instead, I was now living Uptown. I grew to truly appreciate and enjoy uptown, while I was in college; I found an apartment, that I hoped would see me through grad school – there wasn’t any place I would prefer to be. That was late in the summer of 2005; Mother Nature saw to it, that the lease had become void by the beginning of September.

We had a saying in Baton Rouge after Katrina, “New Orleans is the largest city in Baton Rouge.” Baton Rouge, where I sought refuge after Katrina – and stayed for a master’s degree, had already become too big for its britches prior to the 100,000+ evacuated New Orleanians taking up residence within the metro-area. With the metro-area population then (temporarily, Thank God) pushing a million people, Baton Rouge resembled the men’s room in tiger stadium during halftime of the LSU-Bama game. Even prior to the influx of New Orleanian refugees, Baton Rouge had never realized when, somewhere along the line, it ceased to be a small town and be a big city. Once most of the evacuees returned to the New Orleans area, and I moved closer to LSU’s campus, the headache subsided a good bit, and I got to notice those small town elements that lingered in Baton Rouge; some were continued headache (city streets laid out like country roads with no curbs or sidewalks… or room for cars), some confusing (moving from a city with 1 country music radio station to a city with 3 country music TV channels), but others were endearing (meeting a 5’2” girl barely topping 100lbs who drove a Silverado 2500 with mud tires). I made friends that found it inconceivable that I couldn’t name four different country music songs. I saw a guy wearing jeans and camouflage get down on one knee before a girl in jeans and camouflage and propose in the middle of a football game.

In those days after Katrina, we were spread out. Everyone I knew was putting hundreds of miles on his odometer each week. I was all over Southern Louisiana and Mississippi, but by far, my most frequent drive was from Baton Rouge to New Orleans and back. I could drive this stretch of I-10 in my sleep. I think I did a couple of times. With all of this driving, the main roads got very boring, and I decided that the back roads might provide a welcome change of scenery. The fastest route between the two cities that didn’t involve getting on the interstate highways systems was down Airline Highway, AKA US-61. This didn’t really provide for any extra charm or scenery, but did add 45 minutes to the hour long drive. The other option was The Great River Road, a winding meandering drive that follows the Mississippi River past refineries, small river towns, and plantations. The romance is breathtaking; it’s mind-blowing if you make the drive while listening to Benjy Davis Project’s “Sweet Southern Moon.” I would have been very happy if I had truly believed I would end up spending my days out there on River Road.

Graduate School is a fun ride, but it only lasts so long. The next thing you know, you are working as a peon for a large company, getting married and living in a starter home in the “burbs.” One night while driving back to the suburbs, my wife and I decided that it was time to move back to the city. Once we had purchased a house in the City, I recall a coworker asking why we chose to go in town rather than the suburbs, implying that we had made a poor choice. My response surprised me. I told him that I wanted to be in the city, and if I couldn’t do that, then I wasn’t going to stop at the suburbs; I would drive up River Road, and build a house on a large piece of land with no view of my neighbors. I knew, I didn’t want my residence, my lifestyle, or anything about me to quit halfway. Building a house overlooking the Mississippi was very appealing, but ultimately I came to accept how quixotic the notion was, so Uptown New Orleans, once again, became my home.

I identify with the Urban South, but I’ve had my love affair with the Rural South. Both of these faces give the South its defining character. Each has its charming side, but in the end I had to choose, and there really wasn’t a choice to be made.

This series will be continued in part 3 where a discussion of what isn't Southern arises to reveal exactly what is.

The City/Country Dilemma (Part 1)

Ryan Lee Waldron — Tue, 08 May 2012 16:29:39 +0000

As much as I hate to admit it sometimes, I am 100% a city boy. Is that a bad thing? Some would say yes. Does it make me feminine? I would have to whole-heartedly disagree. Am I less manly than someone who grew up in the country? I am, but only if you measure by definition of manliness based on very ignorant precepts (Defining manliness along these terms is probably a bad idea, but it does make for an interesting cranial exercise – Should a man strive to be “Country” or “City” or neither? Or both? Is there something worse than either?). This City-Country distinction is a particularly compelling topic here in the “Land of Cotton.”

The South is a very distinct place. When you are in the South it is clear, if from nothing more than the humidity – but usually from much, much more – that you are not in any other part of the world. It has many faces, but to most outsiders, and even to a large number of southerners, the predominant faces are rural and agrarian. Ag Schools and Alan Jackson, Barbeques and Boucheries, Cowboy Boots and Combines – these are the sort of imagery that most would call to mind when pondering Dixie, but that is not all that the South is. It certainly isn’t the image that I have in my head after spending damned near every day of my 29 years south of the Mason Dixon. What is the image in my head then? Groups of people bedecked in seersucker, having four hour lunches at Galatoire’s; Professors and students ambling ‘neath the Stately Oaks and Arches of the campus of Louisiana State University; relaxing on the white sand beaches that stretch from Gulfport to past Destin; nerds, sleep deprived from hours spent studying for differential equations exams, crossing the interstate in the middle of the night from Georgia Tech to stuff their faces with hotdogs at the Varsity; Charleston's tall homes leering over the waterfront as if they were about to dive in; and a Streetcar rolling past the mansions of the Garden District bound for the high rises of New Orleans' business district.

That is my image of the South, and I am sure I share a similar view with quite a few others, being as the twenty largest cities south of the Mason-Dixon alone have a combined population of more than 50 million people. We, Urban Southerners, may even be the majority down here, and we recognize that our past has many traditions that originate in the agrarian setting, we also realize, and are very proud of, the fact that many of our traditions simply could not have begun anywhere but in an urban setting.

Please stay tuned, for Part 2 of the City/Country Dilemma, where I'll give my background as a means to view my position on the matter.

Costume De Rigueur: The Accessories

Ryan Lee Waldron — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 21:45:30 +0000

What remains for this list is the Accessories. Most are optional, but one set of accessories isn't, gloves

Gloves

White. They MUST be WHITE. Preferably of Kid Leather, but if one is not escorting a lady during the presentation, nylon is acceptable. Gloves are not to be worn while dining, and removal is acceptable while holding a drink.

Hat (Optional)

The proper evening headgear is a silk or badger top hat, and is infact so optional that I've never actually seen anyone wear one. The modern era reserses the use of the cane for those gentlemen that require the assistance of one to walk/stand.

Cloak/Cape (Optional)

Another item that is so optional that I've rarely ever seen one worn is a Cape or Boatcloak. But this may be due to the fact that down here in new Orleans it rarely gets cold enought that the short walk from car to building or building to building ever requires outwear beyond the tailcoat.

Cane (Optional)

A simple black cane with an unornamented gold or silver colored metal handle is the appropriate walking stick for eveningwear.

Pocketwatch/Chain (Optional)

I do occasionally see this one (at least once per white tie event). Gold or silver colored metal (typically matching the color of links and studs. attached to the center button/stud of the waistcoat.

Is the nola.com society section no more?

Ryan Lee Waldron — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 20:07:47 +0000

Does anyone know why no new articles have been posted to nola.com/society since last year?

... Throw my baby out the window and let this joint burn down...

Ryan Lee Waldron — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 22:27:45 +0000

Now that Carnival Season is well underway, it is appropriate to list all of the various Carnival/Mardi Gras resources available here on Seersucker and Sazeracs. Please see the following list:

All Carnival Related Posts - a complete list(exhaustive and exhausting)
Krewe by Krewe - a brief (sometimes) description of each of the New Orleans krewes that present debs (and a few others)
Carnival A to Z - a fun list tour through the season in alphabetical order
Costume de Rigueur - the proper attire one should wear at a Carnival Ball, and how to wear it
Carnival Books - a list of books on the same topic as this post

As unlikely as it may seem that all of the info above doesn't cover any possible question, new unanswered (unanswered here that is) questions pop up all the time. In the case that it seems something is not covered above, please feel free to comment or use the contact form on the right.

Carnival Literature

Ryan Lee Waldron — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

This post is simply a recap of the Carnival from the earlier post, titled Best New Orleans Literature.

Mardi Gras Books

I’m going to use my listing of books as an opportunity to publish a list that I've been meaning to publish for a while, Our List of Essential Carnival Books:

1. MISTICK KREWE: CHRONICLES OF COMUS AND HIS KIN
Perry Young

This Book is the essential, definitive guide to the history of Mardi Gras in New Orleans. It divulges the origins of the "krewe" concept that we are so familiar with in contemporary Mardi Gras in the U.S. Due to its collectible nature, it is rare, so if you ever have a chance to get a copy, do not pass it up.

2. New Orleans Masquerade: Chronicles of Carnival
Arthur Burton with Stuart Omer Landry

3. Lords of Misrule: Mardi Gras and the Politics of Race in New Orleans
James Gill

Mr. Gill gives the history of a deep rooted, long tradition, leading up to the battle that irreparably alters it forever. During the telling of this history, Mr. Gill will inevitably offend the reader, whichever side of the battle the reader takes. The reader will take a side; it is impossible not to. 4. Marched the Day God: A History of the Rex Organization
Errol Laborde

Mr. Laborde authored a wonderful history of such a rich tale of this incredibly vibrant organization.

5. If ever I cease to love: One hundred years of Rex, 1872-1971
Charles "Pie" Dufour

Another history of the School of Design (the organization the presents the Rex parade) is one of two books on the list that I do not own.

6. Mardi Gras in New Orleans: An Illustrated History
Arthur Hardy

Another, well illustrated, history of Carnival in New Orleans

7. The House of Dance and Feathers
Rachel Breunlin, Ronald W. Lewis, and Helen Regis

This is an amazingly rich collection that details the African-American side of Mardi Gras

8. Mardi Gras . . . As It Was
Robert Tallant

The "…As It Was" portion of the title was added years after publication, because when Mr. Tallant wrote this wonderful book, it was current and up to date. The stories though are timeless, and well told. This one should not be skipped.

9. Krewe of Proteus: The first hundred years
Charles "Pie" Dufour

This History of the Krewe of Proteus is the other book on the list which I do not own. These Krewe-Hundred year anniversary books are rare and difficult to obtain (and out of publication, long before I was born).

10. Krewe: The Early New Orleans Carnival Comus to Zulu

Errol Laborde

An interesting collection of tales of Carnival in New Orleans.

11-15. The Collective Works of Henri Schindler


	Mr. Schindler’s all encompassing tome, and then his later series of individual portion of the Golden age are essentials in a collection of Mardi Gras literature.

Costume De Rigueur: The Tailcoat

Ryan Lee Waldron — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 17:00:22 +0000

As much as this rig is called frequently called "white tie", it is also refered to as "Tails."

"What am I supposed to wear to the ball?" "Tails"

"A 7:30 PM Wedding? That's awful late, I suppose they must be wearing Tails?!"

"Her debut party was very nice. All the ladies were in evening gowns and the gentlemen in Tails"

The garment at gives it this name is, of course, the tail coat. The eponymous and iconic garment has many details, and rather than reinventing the wheel, I will direct you to the works of Peter Marshall author of the Black Tie Guide (and its associated blog).

Tailcoat Cut

What North Americans refer to simply as a tailcoat is correctly called an evening tailcoat or dress coat to differentiate it from the formal day tailcoat still worn by the British. The coats differ in that the evening coat is a (pseudo) double-breasted model with a sharply cut-away skirt and silk-faced lapels while the morning coat (or cutaway in American English) is a single-breasted model, has a skirt that tapers away gradually and carries self-faced lapels.

The evening tailcoat is further differentiated in that it must fit the torso snugly even though it is cut so that it cannot be closed or buttoned. This can only be accomplished by having it contour to the wearer’s body perfectly. Therefore, unless a man has proportions virtually identical to a pre-made tailcoat, he will need to invest in the considerable expense of dress suit that is custom made for his physique.

Whether pre-made or made-to-measure, a well-fitting tailcoat offers significant benefits to the wearer. “This garment can turn any many into an Adonis,” says dress historian Nicholas Antongiavanni, “be he short or gangly, fat or lanky” because its cut “accentuates every potential virtue while ruthlessly suppressing every conceivable vice.”

Body

The full-dress tailcoat’s design is particularly efficient at adding stature to shorter men through the raising the of the suit’s waistline. Like any tailored jacket, the tailcoat’s waistline typically mirrors the wearer’s natural waistline but unlike other jackets the coat fronts – and corresponding white waistcoat – end shortly below the waistline. And because the dividing line between the white waistcoat and the black trousers visually breaks the body into vertical halves, the deliberate raising of this line gives the impression of longer legs. Diminutive hoofer Fred Astaire employed a high waistline to great effect in his flawlessly tailored full-dress suits and it was also favored by the English in the 1930s for its dramatic aesthetics.

Other construction details of the coat’s front are also somewhat subject to changing fashions although the practices are described in a 1913 issue of Vanity Fair have been the norm ever since: “The front effect of the coat is best when well opened, exposing considerable shirt, the lapels rolling to a little below the top button of the waistcoat from where the line slants away to the edge which inclines slightly upward and rounds into the skirt.” As for the rear of the coat, Manual of Politeness dictated in 1837 that “Not a crease should be discernible in the back or tails” and this still holds true. In addition, the collar of the coat must fit snugly at the neck and rise just high enough to cover the shirt collar’s rear stud and the bow tie’s band while still allowing a significant portion of white to remain visible.

Sleeves

Fred Astaire’s famous tailcoats also incorporated the requisite high armholes that prevented the coat’s sleeves from pulling at the body no matter the position of his arms, a feature that is just as relevant to today’s formal dancers. Similar to the collar, sleeves should be cut short enough to reveal “a gleaming expanse of white linen at the cuff”, ranging from half an inch to one inch depending on the wearer’s height. Tailcoat sleeves are also relatively narrow, traditionally just wide enough to allow the shirt cuff to slip through.

Skirt (Tails)

A center vent that rises up to the waistline divides the coat’s skirt into two “tails” which originally inspired the nicknames swallow-tail coat and claw-hammer tailcoat. The tails generally extend down to the bend of the knee in a straight line with a gentle curve at the bottom.

Lapels

The peak lapel has been standard since the turn of the twentieth century. Not only is it the most formal style of suit lapel but its sweeping upward diagonal lines also create the impression of a powerful V-shaped torso.

Connoisseurs of vintage formal attire may occasionally stumble across a shawl-collared tailcoat from the interwar years and wish to adopt the style. If so, they should view it in context of an era when full dress was worn so frequently that gentlemen naturally sought an alternative take on the classic. Unless one’s social calendar is chock full of white-tie events, it is best to leave the shawl collar to the sartorial history books.

Some modern designers like to dress the ultra-formal tailcoat with the business suit's informal notch lapel. The only reason for choosing this paradox would be to ensure your fellow guests know that your clothing is rented.

Other Considerations

Most other aspects of a coat’s cut are purely aesthetic and therefore subject to changing fashions. This includes the amount of drape (fullness over chest and back), amount of shoulder padding and size and curve of the lapels. See Style Basics for guidelines that will help make a suit as timeless as possible.

Tailcoat Fabric

Black has been the norm for evening wear since the 1850s and midnight blue has been a correct and striking alternative since the 1920s. The most common fabric since the late Victorian era has been worsted wool with an understated finish such as barathea which is preferred by Britons. Mohair and wool blends have been an acceptable alternative since the late 1950s, favored for their ability to add a tastefully dull sheen to the suit.

The characteristics of midnight blue and worsted wool are discussed in detail in the description of Classic Dinner Suits.

Tailcoat Finishes

Lapel Finishes

The best lapel facings are made of pure silk, while less expensive ones contain a synthetic component. The silk can take the form of smooth satin or the dulled ribbed texture of grosgrain. Although the former is much more common in North America its shiny, somewhat theatrical finish is not as popular in Britain where the understated look of grosgrain is often preferred.

The left lapel should have a working buttonhole for a boutonniere (known in Britain, ironically, as a buttonhole). Quality formal coats will also include a stem holder on the reverse side of the lapel. This is typically a very small cord that keeps the stem in place so that the flower does not fall out of one's lapel over the course of an evening of dancing and dining.

Buttons

Because the double-breasted evening tailcoat has not been designed to close since the 1820s, the two rows of front buttons became purely decorative. There are three buttons in each diagonal row and their spacing is a matter of style. Sleeves buttons are also ornamental: there should be four of them spaced closely together beginning about half an inch from the end of the sleeve. Unique to the tailcoat are the two buttons found at the back of the waistline, a vestige of a time when the coat’s tails were folded up and buttoned to the back for convenience when riding on horseback.

All buttons are usually covered in the same facing as the coat’s lapels although black bone buttons were acceptable up until the 1950s.

Pockets

“In company, as little as possible should be borne in pockets of the coat ; indeed, a full-dress coat should be made without pockets”. The reasoning behind this salient advice from an 1837 etiquette manual is that the weight and bulge of loaded-down pockets will obstruct the graceful lines of the contoured dress suit. Thus, hip pockets are never seen on a tailcoat and a breast pocket (introduced in the Edwardian era) is left empty by the more fastidious dressers.

This lack of pockets presented a dilemma for nineteenth century gentlemen who were expected to remove their otherwise mandatory dress gloves when dining. In typical English fashion, Regency dandy Beau Brummell had his tailor hide pockets in the inside folds of the coat’s tails and this remains a feature of better tailcoats to this day.

Costume De Rigueur: The Waistcoat

Ryan Lee Waldron — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 22:28:39 +0000

The Brooks Brothers WaisstcoatAh, the waistcoat, that piece of the rig that most people don't even know the proper name for. To start with, it is not a vest, it is called a waistcoat. This garment should be made of the same pique as the tie and the bib of the shirt. It can have a back, but is more frequently backless. The Buttons may be either cloth (the same pique as the vest) covered or mother of pearl studs.

The United States Marine Corps uses this particular garment in its evening dress uniform for officers; the uniform regulations give a very good description of how the waistcoat should be composed:

The white pique waistcoat is backless with adjustable neck and back straps; single-breasted with shawl-type lapels, and V-shaped opening. The front fastens with three [small buttons] set closely together on the right side, with corresponding buttonholes on the left. It has two welted outside pockets, one on each lower part of the front. The front edges of the waistcoat, from bottom of lower button to bottom of waistcoat are cut away to form an inverted "V."

I personally prefer waistcoats that button behind the neck rather than having elastic or a sliding buckle. I've yet to see a good means of securing at the back of the waist, and have thus modified mine to use elastic and velcro.

Costume De Rigueur: The Shoes

Ryan Lee Waldron — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 23:25:10 +0000

The Brooks Brothers version of the proper shoe.The standard shoes to wear with this rig are black patent leather (or corfam) balmoral or closed lace oxford shoes; they are to have no broguing whatsoever. Although not technically formal enough, blucher or open lace oxfords without any broguing are often seen and are considered by many to be acceptable, particularly if they are standard issue black military dress shoes.

A true traditionalist might prefer Opera Pumps which are patent leather and lace-less, with a satin or silk bow (to match the trouser stripe and lapel facing). The daring gent may venture to wear velvet slippers, but embroidered slippers are not appropriate for such a formal occasion as one would wear white tie. Also the latter two types of shoes may be inappropriate for the wetness that seems to pervade in the seasons when one tends to wear white tie, as the elements may be a bit too harsh for such a gentle shoe.