(Photo by Dante Busquets.)
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(On certain days it is oh so nice, almost necessary I would venture to say, to arrive home–to arrive home riding one´s blue bike (the long route) back after a dinner with friends, soup freshly made and talks about the theater of storms, fifth floor–to arrive home and then walk to the desk by the window, thinking of getting back to work right away and then suddenly find, from another friend across the park, a link, some words and a man looking in just that exact and precise way at life through his glasses.)
(Gracias D.) (Fiddle-dee-dee.)
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“Style is not something applied,” wrote the poet Wallace Stevens. “It is something that permeates. It is of the nature of that in which it is found, whether the poem, the manner of a god, the bearing of a man.”
This guy…he’s got him some style. It didn’t come from putting on that hat or pulling that tie off the tie rack, it didn’t come from his choice of eyewear or his personal trainer, and it sure as hell didn’t come from his tailor. No sir, this guy’s style comes right straight out of his bones. It’s in the way he carries himself, the way he holds his head. The bearing of a man, the bearing of a poem…one is the same as the other.
Now, that’s a powerfully cool hat, no mistake. And that tie speaks for itself, Rhett and Scarlet getting all sweaty like that. But those things are just the expression of his style, not the source. You didn’t really think it was the source, did you? Fiddle-dee-dee.
- Greg Fallis, on Mr. Gone With The Wind by Dante Busquets