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Archive for March 3rd, 2010|Daily archive page

Postcards from Billy

In Fashion on March 3, 2010 at 8:06 am

For the newly initiated, POSTCARDS is recurring feature with fashion advice from my dear friend Billy, an art consultant with a wicked eye and even wickeder wardrobe. In this edition, he packs his bags for Savannah and mixes a molotov cocktail of muscle cars and Mila Kunis to reinvent himself just in time for St. Patrick’s Day.


I am feeling the overwhelming need to butch up a little right now.  My dear friend Jeannie actually just used the term “Hail Mary pass” and without skipping a beat felt the need to explain the phrase. What? Am I that light in the loafers that I can’t get a simple sports reference? Granted, my overly thought-out current fave loafers, a blue Gucci driving version with a bamboo bit, might lead one to believe that I don’t watch a lot of athletic events.

With that in mind, I am going to re-invent myself in March.  I can’t think of a better way than to embrace the thoroughly testosterone-filled drinking holiday, St. Patrick’s Day. Since I am now living in Atlanta, I should just make a trip down to Savannah, a city that used to go so far as to dye the river green to celebrate the saint most likely played by Colin Farrell in the action-packed version of his life shepherding snakes out of Ireland. My plan for this trip:

  • Rent either a Ford Mustang or large SUV for the trip and leave my Volkswagen sedan at home. Perhaps in a red or black, white is too girly.
  • My iPod will be filled with lots of macho classics: L.L. Cool J’s “Mama Said Knock You Out” (or “I’m Bad”), Cypress Hill’s “Insane In The Membrane,” Led Zeppelin classics and of course, the quintessential House of Pain’s “Jump Around.” Apparently my friend Jeannie refers to these as jock jams. When she said, that my mind automatically went to gay porn and not beer cans crushed on one’s forehead.
  • The outfits will be channeling old-school frat-boy prep. Of course, I refuse to go balls to the wall and sacrifice every bit of my innate sense of fashion.  It would be somewhat akin to a chic girl accepting a tangerine chiffon bridesmaid dress. The pieces I would bring:
    1. khaki and seersucker pants – slimmer fit versions, perhaps something from Thom Browne or Michael Bastian.
    2. Lacoste polo shirts – in every color of the rainbow
    3. blue Ralph Lauren or Brooks Brothers blazer and I will resist every temptation to add a whimsical silk pocket square and instead opt for the classic white handkerchief
    4. suede bucs – need I say more?
  • The ideal accessory will also be an excuse to buy something I’ve been coveting for too long – a Filson shooting bag in hunter green.
  • The only definite accessory will be some arm-candy. The only way to save me from some unfortunate gay bashing moment will be a leggy, chic girl with me at all times.  If I were to have a true Hollywood casting call, I would probably want Elizabeth Banks or Mila Kunis. Both would seem as comfortable at a Southern cotillion or doing keg stands at Auburn’s homecoming weekend.

To keep with this current mindset, will you please talk me off the cliff if I falter and decide to make a visit to Marc Jacobs Savannah store?  My argument will be simple and impassioned: it is his only outpost in the South besides Bal Harbour Shops in Miami.

XXX Billy