I recently moved to an apartment in an old victorian house in Connecticut. Our landlady told us to feel free to grab anything we wanted from the basement, full of items left by previous tenants. With Dylan’s help, we pulled up a real nice haul; old furniture, a killer record collection, and a bag full of some of the nicest men’s clothes I’d ever seen… in my size too.
Naturally, it was all pretty musty, but in remarkable condition. Vintage tweeds, coats, and beautiful suits, dating from the late 70s onwards. Impeccable quality, timeless cuts. Clearly the owner was a man of great taste.
I gradually started bringing to the cleaners, and wearing some of it around town. Then I found this photo in a jacket pocket.
And then this suit came back from being cleaned.
And I found this tailor’s tag in the pocket.
Paul Newman. Henry Stewart. January, 1986. Paul Newman’s wardrobe. In my basement. In my size. My legs have been in one of my favorite actor’s trousers.
WHAT.
