jderickson
Member
- Joined
- Mar 9, 2004
- Messages
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from a new site, theMaterialist
http://www.thematerialist.net
Hungry, horny, and rainy: when these adjectives are upon you, your mind can't focus on much else. Food and restaurants that were never before appealing are suddenly desirable. People who were never so attractive are suddenly sexy. And a rainy day? Makes me wish I had purchased those waterproof boots, the long canvas raincoat, even the funny-looking collapsible hat. Preparation makes certain situations a pleasure; lack of it makes you wonder what you were thinking. Yet on a sunny day, who can blame you for not thinking about umbrellas? (Of course, I can.)
Unlike those articles that appear from time to time in a high-end magazine like Cigar Aficionado or Robb Report, I will not give you a history of the umbrella. Frankly, I don't care which noble British firm (or who knows? French firm?) first made them. Or what Winston Churchill nicknamed his. Or where Fred Astaire had his delivered by the dozen.
Those not really concerned with sturdy, quality things, made the Way They Have Been Made, can sign off now--from here on it's all crazy talk to you. It's the kind of talk that makes guys nonchalantly showy when referring to the flat six in their car, or spending more for a television with progressive scanning. But when referring to men's clothing or accessories, this talk surely announces the speaker as a fop or a ***. Well my shaft is hickory! That's right, solid hickory. And I chose it over cherry, walnut, and malacca. I can't tell anyone about it in any serious way, ("oh, this old thing?") but I love it, I do.
The few of you not turned off by this talk yet, gather close, and I will say what I set out to say: treat yourself to a good umbrella. Hang a little tag or print a little label for the inside so when you leave it in a coat room the honest management can return it. (Consider it insurance.) Then enjoy this umbrella. You will pray for rainy days so you can use it. With a broken collapsible umbrella, the canopy loose of the twisted frame, you are a scurrier, panicked by the rain! With a functional, sturdy umbrella you can walk down the street a bit more slowly, with a longer gait, even a smile. It's all in the spirit of theMaterialist: a detail sought not for its flashiness but for the small pleasure you might find in it. Enjoy the rainy days.
The cost of a sturdy umbrella made in England or Italy is considerable. And perhaps ridiculous. (But it hasn't stopped me: I have three.) They start at about $150 for the Brigg doorman umbrellas with metal shafts, then to $200 or so for the Maglia Francesca, who make many of the private label umbrellas for Paul Stuart, Barneys, Bergdorf Goodman, and a few others, and then easily $400 for the best and solid wooden ones by Brigg and a few other English makers. The costs come from the price of labor in a developed Western country, the materials, the beautiful fabrics available, and the less mechanized production. Your promotional-gift golf umbrella may be sturdy, I'll give you that. But beautiful? Worth keeping for a long time? Hmmm. The Brigg will still be mine in 15 years, and it will have that patina of ownership: dings in the wooden handle, worn down spots, and maybe a patch or two. I hardly even want the new umbrella, I want to have had it for decades. (See above, "oh, this old thing?")
And the best part of having one? Crazies like me will do a double take on the street: we will spot the distinctive shape of your canopy from a city block away, then carefully watch as you approach. We will interrupt you and your Blackberry and ask you for your photograph for a column we are writing, yes, we will!
http://www.thematerialist.net
Hungry, horny, and rainy: when these adjectives are upon you, your mind can't focus on much else. Food and restaurants that were never before appealing are suddenly desirable. People who were never so attractive are suddenly sexy. And a rainy day? Makes me wish I had purchased those waterproof boots, the long canvas raincoat, even the funny-looking collapsible hat. Preparation makes certain situations a pleasure; lack of it makes you wonder what you were thinking. Yet on a sunny day, who can blame you for not thinking about umbrellas? (Of course, I can.)
Unlike those articles that appear from time to time in a high-end magazine like Cigar Aficionado or Robb Report, I will not give you a history of the umbrella. Frankly, I don't care which noble British firm (or who knows? French firm?) first made them. Or what Winston Churchill nicknamed his. Or where Fred Astaire had his delivered by the dozen.
Those not really concerned with sturdy, quality things, made the Way They Have Been Made, can sign off now--from here on it's all crazy talk to you. It's the kind of talk that makes guys nonchalantly showy when referring to the flat six in their car, or spending more for a television with progressive scanning. But when referring to men's clothing or accessories, this talk surely announces the speaker as a fop or a ***. Well my shaft is hickory! That's right, solid hickory. And I chose it over cherry, walnut, and malacca. I can't tell anyone about it in any serious way, ("oh, this old thing?") but I love it, I do.
The few of you not turned off by this talk yet, gather close, and I will say what I set out to say: treat yourself to a good umbrella. Hang a little tag or print a little label for the inside so when you leave it in a coat room the honest management can return it. (Consider it insurance.) Then enjoy this umbrella. You will pray for rainy days so you can use it. With a broken collapsible umbrella, the canopy loose of the twisted frame, you are a scurrier, panicked by the rain! With a functional, sturdy umbrella you can walk down the street a bit more slowly, with a longer gait, even a smile. It's all in the spirit of theMaterialist: a detail sought not for its flashiness but for the small pleasure you might find in it. Enjoy the rainy days.
The cost of a sturdy umbrella made in England or Italy is considerable. And perhaps ridiculous. (But it hasn't stopped me: I have three.) They start at about $150 for the Brigg doorman umbrellas with metal shafts, then to $200 or so for the Maglia Francesca, who make many of the private label umbrellas for Paul Stuart, Barneys, Bergdorf Goodman, and a few others, and then easily $400 for the best and solid wooden ones by Brigg and a few other English makers. The costs come from the price of labor in a developed Western country, the materials, the beautiful fabrics available, and the less mechanized production. Your promotional-gift golf umbrella may be sturdy, I'll give you that. But beautiful? Worth keeping for a long time? Hmmm. The Brigg will still be mine in 15 years, and it will have that patina of ownership: dings in the wooden handle, worn down spots, and maybe a patch or two. I hardly even want the new umbrella, I want to have had it for decades. (See above, "oh, this old thing?")
And the best part of having one? Crazies like me will do a double take on the street: we will spot the distinctive shape of your canopy from a city block away, then carefully watch as you approach. We will interrupt you and your Blackberry and ask you for your photograph for a column we are writing, yes, we will!
