In my dream its always Friday afternoon. Early summer, Decoration Day has gone, and Independence Day is near. New Orleans' humidity is just bearable.
After a cold beer and appetizers at Felix's, I cross the street and head towards my waiting table in the deepest Siberia of the second floor at Galatoires. I'm ready to spend a long afternoon tackling the worlds problems, solidified by its best cuisine.
Luncheon is long and slow, the waitstaff attentive, the companions convivial. A most excellent afternoon. Too soon, it's time to walk home, have a short cigar and a nap. Cocktails will be along before you know it. A rather louche life, I'd say.
The part I like best comes at the end of luncheon. You pay your respects to the management, and walk out. None of that foolishness about settling the bill. It appears at your office at the end of the month. When you let the clerk deal with it, its eating free.
I haven't had that dream since about this time last year.
Summer, Friday afternoon, at Galatoires, is the natural home of white linen suits. In most American communities they are an acquired taste, little sampled. In New Orleans they are virtually required.
The moxie required of the average adult male to pull off GTH pants with aplomb, withers in the face of a new white suit.
Few can pull it off. I find garments like this more enjoyable the older I become. Think Hal Holbrook as Mark Twain or Sydney Greenstreet in Casablanca, rather than Tom Wolfe. Perhaps, it's easier to forgive older eccentrics.
I need to have my white suit altered, in case I find myself in gastronomic heaven anytime soon. The best accompaniment is years of wear, along with the battle stains of too many a good meal. To that end I need to find a quick way to make a new linen suit look 10 years older. Preferably without the stains. I'll take care of that myself soon 'nuf.
Toad
Photos from The Sartorialist, and Theselby(Tom Wolfe)
Posts
3 comments:
A white suit to a man is what white shoes are to a woman -- NEVER worn before Memorial Day and NEVER worn after Labor Day
I had an attorney when I lived in the Pelican state that always wore white linen suits and ecru buckskins shoes. He had a multitude of pastel oxford shirts and coordinating bow ties and hankies to accentuate his suits. He was my favorite person in the world to dine with. We had drinks one afternoon at Antoines. He was considerably older than I and seemed to relished in the fact of being seen with a buxom blond in the midafternoon sipping cocktails and reviewing legal matters.
Great post Toad!
Loved the memories of New Orleans....I lived there for 2 year...with an expense account....bliss. I'd look for clients to entertain just so that I could eat. Had my 34th birthday at Galatoire's...a business lunch...not a planned birthday gig. The waiter gave me a birthday drink....my usual back then...Crown Royal Special Reserve...neat...but in quantity that was daunting.
Trout Almondine at Mandinas on Canal Street...that would be my final meal if I had a choice.
Onward.
Post a Comment