The working title of the LP that eventually became The Beatles was A Doll’s House, and this painting by “Patrick” (John Byrne) was commissioned, then rejected, for the cover.

Ashtray from the Oyster Bar in Grand Central Terminal. First spotted (and greatly admired) at Casa Ferrer in L.A. Available for purchase here, along with a bunch of other cigarette receptacles from pre-Bloombergian NYC. 

Records by Ed Ruscha (1971) 

Via Mondoblog, which has the full a sizable collection of Ruscha books on display.

“Little Girl, Little Boy,” Odyssey (1968):

The Odyssey were a somewhat mysterious Los Angeles-based garage band, signed to the White Whale label, who cut a hot little piece of put-down punk gold in 1968 before disappearing. It’s been rumored that the Odyssey were members of the Turtles working under a pseudonym, but there are others who believe them to be members of two other groups, the L.A.-based Just Too Much and the Looking Glasses, who came from L.A.’s suburbs. Their memorably defiant A-side, “Little Boy, Little Girl,” has been compiled on Bacchus Archives’ Fuzz, Flaykes, & Shakes Volume 1: 60 Miles High.

Blown away by this song.

I have decided that contemporary corduroy is too thinly waled. From now on, I will boldly wear corduroys like those pictured above, which are cut like suit trousers and made by Martin Greenfield for Epaulet. In fact, I am wearing them today. 

Bringing wide-wale back. Who’s with me? 

“Don’t You Want Me No More,” The Kirkbys (1966). Jimmy Campbell was one of the great lost British songwriters of the 1960s:

Everybody who heard the Liverpool singer and songwriter Jimmy Campbell recognised his talent. Why did he receive so little acclaim? Much of the reason lies in his own personality, but he has left behind some fine songs that he recorded as part of the Kirkbys, 23rd Turnoff and Rockin’ Horse as well as on his own. Campbell mocked his own lack of success in “Tremendous Commercial Potential” (1971) and he once told me, “A lot of my songs are cries for help and I suppose that’s why they didn’t make the grade.”

Like many young Liverpool lads, Campbell formed a beat group, the Panthers, and on 13 January 1962 they supported the Beatles at Hambleton Hall in Huyton. As in a western showdown, John Lennon stood at the front of the stage checking out the new boy in town. Campbell was to regard Lennon and McCartney as the best songwriters in the world, adding, “McCartney had that magic, that self-confidence, and I never had that.”

In March 1964, the Panthers were recording for the Radio Luxembourg programme Sunday Night at the Cavern and the compere, Bob Wooler, confused their name with the suburb where they lived, calling them the Kirkbys. As the Kirkbys, they recorded for RCA and their single “It’s a Crime” was released in 1966. After a tour with Herman’s Hermits in Finland, they acquired a cult following and two of Campbell’s best songs, “Don’t You Want Me No More” and “Bless You”, were only released there.

In line with the psychedelic times, they changed their name to 23rd Turnoff (actually the exit from the M6 to the East Lancs Road) and recorded “Michaelangelo” (1967) for Decca’s progressive label Deram. The intended follow-up, “Another Vincent Van Gogh”, was cancelled as sales were disappointing. It is now viewed as a prime example of UK psychedelia and the collection of the Kirkbys/23rd Turnoff work, The Dream of Michaelangelo (2004), had superb reviews.

Get The Dream of Michaelangelo here. H/t ZBS. 

The Sun with Spots Big Enough to Swallow the Earth by Janet Malcolm (2011). Paper collage, 10 x 8 inches. Malcolm:

Last winter, I came into possession of the papers of an émigré psychiatrist who practiced in New York in the late 1940s and 1950s. The archive included a collection of manila envelopes, around six by ten inches, stuffed with folded sheets of thin paper covered with single-spaced typing: the notes the psychiatrist made after seeing patients (many of them fellow émigrés) in his office. As I studied the sheets with their inky typewriting and 60-year-old paper clips holding them together and leaving rust marks on the surface, my collagist’s imagination began to stir. I began to “see” some version of the collages on view here. The scraps of paper I collect are largely black and white (preferably yellowing white) and have an archaic and melancholy air about them. They hark back to the 19th century and its technological and scientific vernacular. The case studies, with their sad old appearance, were of a piece with this backward-looking aesthetic. Further, in their sometimes almost parodic Freudian interpretations, they summoned a period in psychiatry that is as remote from today’s practice as the manual typewriter is from the Macintosh computer. These collages arose—I’m not sure how—from this encounter with the past.

More at the NYRB.

Fred Astaire’s rules of style, distilled from an August 1957 interview with GQ. Fashions may change, but this stuff doesn’t (or shouldn’t): 

He always has suits custom-tailored… “I usually take my suits back to the shop at least half a dozen times—too much shoulder or too loose or too tight. What I dislike is wearing a lot of material.”

He believes that his measure of male dress is basically British. “You have to give them credit. They have been very stable in their designing and tailoring. They hardly ever change.”

“I can’t comprehend red evening ties or fluffy shirt fronts or that sort of thing.”

In suitings, he prefers the sober colors such as dark blue, dark gray, and dark brown—”the only light color I like is light gray.”

“The coat should be just long enough to cover the rear,” he states. “The way most of them are today, they nearly reach the knees.”

On tailoring, he feels that all coats should have the British side-vents—”quite deep, about seven inches.” He favors two-button jackets, although he used to be an addict of three-buttoners at the age of 20. “I only button one,” he says, “and I think it looks better that way.”

His trousers are cuffed and inclined to be a little shorter than most—”I don’t want them slopping over onto my shoes.”

Except for full dress, he likes a soft shirt front, and light colors in the pink, blue, and tan range. “Once in a long while I’ll buy a striped shirt,” he adds.

He prefers a well-made buttoned cuff to French cuffs. In fact he never uses cufflinks except for formal dress… His daily jewelry is severely limited to a single gold-seal ring and the simplest tie accessories.

He likes a full tie, not the narrow ones. “I always like to use the Windsor knot,” he says… He points out that thinness seems to destroy an essential quality of dress, its style, by misuse in ties or lapels.

As for the collars, he dislikes the tab and prefers the button-down and the wide-spread collar— braced by stays.

In his own ties, he prefers a dark color and a very small pattern. He has only a couple of striped ties, emblematic of the clubs to which he belongs.

In the shoe department, Astaire possesses… more than 20 pairs… “It’s really very economical to have that many,” he asserts. “I have shoes today that are as good as when I bought them 20 years ago—and I assure you I have worn them many times.” … All his shoes are custom-made in London.

As for style and color, he prefers suede as a material and the loafer design. Most of his shoes, exclusive of the formal ones, are dark brown.

[In hats,] he likes low crowns and fairly narrow brims (about 2 1/8 inches because “an eighth of an inch can make a lot of difference in a brim”). The hat band should be of normal width—”no wide ones, no high crowns, no wide brims.” He wears them with an ordinary crease and abhors such developments as porkpies.

Handkerchiefs should be flipped out and folded into the pocket with an appearance of casualness, Astaire thinks. He does not like the square or folded style, nor the puff type that he describes “like a range of the Andes.”

In his socks, Astaire allows himself a little leeway. He likes wool in preference to silk and cotton… He is not too taken with synthetic fabrics of any kind. He is fond of some sort of pattern on his socks, based on a subdued background.

He dislikes shorts of any kind in public.

He is very fond of cardigan sweaters of all types.

His own preference for wear would be the ageless, conservative suiting, fabric, and color, complemented with shirt and tie each in its own distinctive small pattern or low-keyed color. The Astaire creed of dress is: “Be yourself—but don’t be conspicuous.”

First edition of Three Stories & Ten Poems by Ernest Hemingway (1923), which was privately published in a run of 300 copies by Contact Publishing in Paris:

This copy of Hemingway’s first book claims singularity by its provenance: it was this volume that Hemingway sent to Edmund Wilson in November 1923, asking for a review in The Dial. The book had appeared in Paris, where Hemingway was already well known in expatriate circles but had made little noise in the United States. Wilson read it immediately and responded warmly with a review that helped to make the young writer’s reputation.

Via The Atlantic. 

California Winter Jacket by South Willard and Crescent Down Works:

autumn tan 60/40, red tartan u.s. made pendleton soft wool lining, tan ripstop lining, leather button reinforcement, brass snaps, leather toggles, made in u.s.

My go-to since Christmas, on both coasts.

“She May Call You Up Tonight,” The Left Banke (1967)

Kill Devil Hills, N.C. in the mid-1970s. Photograph by former Newsweeker Steve Tuttle, who is expert in all things Southern-fried and bourbon-soaked.

Goodnight 2011. Good morning 2012. 

H/t The Ferrers

Henry’s Tacos, Studio City, California. The best gabacho tacos in town, since 1961. Definitely worth saving. 

British coffee shops of the 1950s (1/2)

Via Archival Clothing

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