Izzy apologizes for his long absence. Some months ago, in a foolhardy moment, he answered the following advertisement:

MEN WANTED FOR HAZARDOUS JOURNEY. SMALL WAGES, BITTER COLD, LONG MONTHS OF COMPLETE DARKNESS,
CONSTANT DANGER, SAFE RETURN DOUBTFUL. HONOR AND RECOGNITION IN CASE OF SUCCESS.

To his surprise, rather an a frozen slog across Antarctica–easy enough to endure–the journey was in fact a trip through the benthic regions of the soul.  “When you stare into the Abyss, the Abyss stares into you,” said Nietzsche.  Izzy would like to think that he won a staring contest with the Abyss.  (This, despite the fact that the Abyss, not playing fair, contorted its face into a ridiculous cockeyed grimace.)

Now safely back in the Shallow, Izzy would like to turn your attention to another achievement of Nietzsche’s, his moustache.

Long before his signature facial hair reached absurd proportions worthy of a machete, one of his students described the philosopher’s appearance:

I had not expected that the professor would come storming into the room . . .  like Burkhardt.  I also knew well enough that a challenging tone in a writer does not always echo his behavior as a private man.  But I was nonetheless surprised by the modesty, even humility, of Nietzsche’s demeanor when he came in.  In addition he was of small rather than middle stature . . . And the iridescent glasses and deep mustache gave his face that impression of intellectuality which often makes even short men somewhat imposing.

While it is known that Nietzsche devoted great concern to his appearance, the famous photographs of him with with whiskers completely covering his mouth are not indicative of his own taste.  By the time those photos were taken, Nietzsche was living in a sanitorium under the care of his far-more-insane sister, a proto- and later actual Nazi, who made the eccentric grooming choice for him.

Izzy is going to heed the lesson here, and make sure that his living will includes a clause about appropriate facial hair.

Manolo says, there is the reason why many man-oriented bloggers consider Silvio Berlusconi the sort of role model.

“Ah! Bellisima! Look at you! You are so beautiful and tanned!

“Now, come to the embrace of Silvio!”

“Please, touch the hand of Silvio so that you may feel how warm he is in your presence….And now you are blushing like the little school girl. Silvio has won your heart, no?”

(more…)

Any gentleman with whiskers, great bulk, and a taste for oysters should appreciate this vintage tie from Chipp, the long-gone prep habedasher.  In Izzy’s fertile imagination, the walrus represents a Rubenesque version of Matisse’s Pink Nude.

In his memorable essay “The Secret Vice,” Tom Wolfe writes:

one day in December, 1960 . . . Lyndon Johnson, the salt of the good earth of Austin, Texas, turned up on Savile Row in London, England, and walked into the firm of Carr, Son & Woor. He said he wanted six suits, and the instructions he gave were: “I want to look like a British diplomat.” Lyndon Johnson! Like a British diplomat! You can look it up.

Note well: Never ask your tailor to make you look like a Libyan diplomat, or else you’ll get the shiniest suit known to man.  Apparently, what happens in Vegas does not stay in Vegas, sartorially speaking.

But at least Libya’s National Security Advisor, Mutassim Qaddafi (son of Muammar Qaddafi), is carrying on the family tradition of eccentric flamboyance.

Pakistani designer Munib Nawaz shows his national pride by placing an outline of his homeland on the back of a tailcoat.  

The only major brand Izzy can think of that puts a country’s map on its products is the British label Hackett, which every now and then stamps the outline of the United Kingdom across a shirt or and tie.  Izzy himself has been known to don such a shirt—he likes to wear his anglophilia on his sleeve.

Sperry top-siders are an American classic, if a bit boring at this point.  Thus, Izzy was delighted to discover this new J. Crew “chukka” top-sider.  A hybrid of deck shoe and desert boot, it refreshingly combines change with continuity.  And it looks mighty comfy, too.

Vineyard Vines, purveyor of all things ultra-preppie, is now offering a line of atypical college ties, featuring a silk-screen of the university’s symbol.  Obviously, this works better for schools with especially pleasant insignia, such as the Columbia University crown and University of Texas longhorn.  Izzy’s personal favorite is the necktie for the University of Virgnia’s Fighting Sabres, which possesses the visual dynamism of an art deco print.

Since there’s nothing preppier than corduroys embroidered with cutesy whales, ducks, or monkeys, the folks at Hickey seem to be targeting the elusive Groton-alumni-who-are-truckers demographic.  Presumably the care label reads, “Requires no additional irony.”

They even make a matching cashmere sweater.

Among the ranks of these Viking re-enactors, one make-believe Norseman is not quite like the others.   Too much herring, and not enough pillaging, has left him out of shape, while his askew helmet, with an extra wide nose-guard, adds to his loveable-misfit charm.  Izzy can’t help but think that this is what Obelix would look like in Viking armor.

Hard economic times appear to have affected even Austin Powers, who must be the British eBay seller hoping to exchange these groovy, Cuban-heeled Chelsea boots for cash. If any of Izzy’s loyal readers are friends with the Riddler, please tell him to bid now.

By wearing a lapel pin that combines the U.S. flag and the letter “C,” Steven Colbert shrewdly blends mock patriotism with self-advertising. Yet, by donning a button-down collar with a tuxedo, he really goes beyond the bounds of taste.

While parading during Venezuela’s Independence Day, this army cadet looked down to discover that it his crotch was celebrating its newfound freedom.  It’s a good thing the soldier wasn’t going commando.