Final mission

Among Lord Bassington-Bassington's many sartorial sins is His Lordship's habit of keeping shirts a bit after they should probably have been discarded. But as the reason is love, perhaps the sin can be forgiven. Allow us to elaborate.

Lord Bassington-Bassingtons tends to acquire quality clothes, after taking a lot of care (well, a lot of procrastination, deliberation and changing of minds anyway) in selecting them. This means that the piece of clothing is not only something very appealing to His Lordship, but that they last for a long time and he grows terribly fond of them. So it is with His Lordship's shirts, too.

Worn cotton takes on a charm of its own, and if a shirt starts looking a bit under the weather, a little love and a lot of steam can set things right. Those of you who have ever taken an iron to an old piqué shirt (His Lordship has Fred Perry shirts that are practically ancient) knows what we're talking about.

The problems start to arise when His Lordship refuses to admit that even the most beloved of shirts cannot live forever, and is reluctant to part with them even when the wear really starts to show. Surely one doesn't give up on an old friend just because they grow a bit wrinkled?

But there has to be a limit. This button-down number for Hackett has provided loyal service for a number of years, and will be taken out on a final spin soon. And after that, it's time for this faithful piece of fabric to be laid to rest. Except perhaps it will be reincarnated as a shoeshine cloth.



Shirt by Hackett.
Knitted tie by Hilditch & Key, a gift from Lord Bassington-Bassington's father in law.
Hanger found in a street market, a memento from the Free State of Danzig.

Vinyl wisdom

“You know you’re dealing with a proper Industrial record when, after playing it a half-dozen times, and liking it a lot, you’re still not quite sure what the correct playing speed is.”

Attempts at a witty remark by Lord Bassington-Bassington.
Music by Reserva Espiritual De Occidente.
Seven inch on beautiful red vinyl by Extremocidente.

Eliadian fields of study

The Romanian scholar Mircea Eliade is rightly regarded as the godfather of the study of religion. The fact that his work is now seen as a bit dated does not detract from this. Works such as The Sacred and the Profane have attained the status of academic classics; books that might not work very well as textbooks anymore, but who have become important texts for understanding the development of a science or discipline (Darwin's Evolution of Species is another example that springs to Lord Bassington-Bassington’s mind).

But while Eliade is a cornerstone of comparative religious studies, his forays into fiction are less well known. The fact is that Eliade was a fine writer, and that his writings – dealing as they usually do with the supernatural – can rightly be termed weird fiction.

Now, most weird fiction, from H.P. Lovecraft and W.H. Pugmire to M.R. James and Arthur Machen, usually deals with the supernatural or numinous. on some level or other. What really sets Eliade apart is his acute sense of the mystical. In fact, few writers can capture the experience of transcendence like Eliade.

As if Eliade’s books aren’t enough, director Francis Ford Coppola has made an excellent adaptation of Eliade's short novel Youth Without Youth. This film captures all that is great about Eliade's writings, and its dealings with reincarnation are particularily fascinating.



Lord Bassington-Bassington first read Eliade's short stories a few years ago, but has since returned to them and, having a tendency to be somewhat obsessive, is currently engaging in gathering as much of Eliade's fiction as possible. Which, of course, necessitates haunting second-hand bookshops. But hey, that happens to be one of His Lordship’s favourite things to do anyway. The collection of Eliadiana here at Bassington Manor is still small, but we like to think of it as a good start.

But it might be time for a new book moratorium…

Tweed season starts early

Even here in the cold North, there comes a time to hang away one's tweed suits and jackets for the summer. But just as Lord Bassington-Bassington had gotten used to the thought of not wearing tweed for a while, tweed season is upon us again.

For on June 18th, the O.G. (Original Gentleman) himself, Mr. B the Gentleman Rhymer, releases his third album. Entitled, fittingly, The Tweed Album.

And while on the subject of essential chap-hop news, Mr. B has recently issued a club tie.

Not only do these ties look very snappy, the quality is also quite remarkable. And rumours reveal that his chapness is also considering making bow ties!

And while on the subject, His Lordship heartily recommends Mr. B's online mixes.

Dubious ties

Much as Lord Bassington-Bassington admires people who are perfectly and traditionally dressed, His Lordship cannot quite pull this off himself. The explanation says a lot about the quirks - some would perhaps call them flaws - in His Lordship's character. For even if Lord Bassington-Bassington was raised on European high culture, there is no denying that His Lordship's tastes tend towards what can be called the subcultural.

This is probably the legacy of a youth (mis)spent skulking around the darker corners of the music culture and the fringes of radical politics. A youth that His Lordship should probably have left far behind, but, as any reader of these Chronicles will notice, that has not happened.

Lord Bassington-Bassington favours a style of dress that has been disparagingly described as "conservative" or "burgeoise" (His Lordship takes this as compliments) or, as one of His Lordhip's old friends once put it, "you're so straight you're twisted". While there are elements of truth in this, it is not the whole story either. For in His Lordship's outfits there is usually a dissonant note somewhere. It's often obvious in His Lordship's taste for footwear that is too polished, too pointy or too high (or a bit "wrong" in some other respect). It can also be seen in his choice of neckwear.

So since it's Wednesday, it feels appropriate to take a look at Lord Bassington-Bassington's collection of bow ties.

This little collection of strange bows comes from sources such as New and Lingwood and Favourbrook. The bow in the back is a Shriner tie – a nod to Lord Bassington-Bassington's interest in Freemasonry, as well as to the conspiracy nuts who claim that the staff here at the Chronicles are part of some Masonic-pharmaceutical conspiracy. The Shriners' Islamically inspired imagery also has the potential to annoy Islamophobes, which His Lordship considers a nice bonus. Fun, sure. But is it tasteful? That is another matter entirely.

Luckily, Lord Bassington-Bassington is also in possession of a few bows that are less subcultural. Though some of those, too, tend toward the overstated. To use an understatment.

As Lord Bassington-Bassington puts it, "One hopes one doesn't look too ridiculous".

A doctor who makes house calls

Lord Bassington-Bassington has had some health complaints this winter, and has spent more time slouching on the couch than is usual even for one as monumentally lazy as His Lordship. Luckily, even in these days of social decline, there is still a doctor who makes house calls.

"Doctor who?" you might ask. And Lord Bassington-Bassington's reply would be "exactly!" Except, of course, that it would sound more like "ahroooooh!"

Not only does the good Doctor make one's health and humour improve considerably, he also provides indispensable advice on both how to keep one's neck stylish...



...and how to keep one's head warm.



Now, if the good Doctor could just get a canine companion (albeit robotic) with longer ears, he would be well on the way to perfection.

Vinyl fetishes

As Ornette Coleman once remarked, ”when you like music, you like a lot of music”. And such is certainly the case with Lord Bassington-Bassington. The record collection here at Bassington Manor is of such a variety that it is bound to have some of your favourite music, and things that you will consider sonic horrors beyond imagining.

In many ways, Lord Bassington-Bassington's life revolves around music. Music serves as inspiration for success and comfort in failure, repositories for memories and emotions. In short, one of those things that make life worth living.

As many who have this obsession with music, Lord Bassington-Bassington prefers to own physical copies of music, and for the last few years that has meant vinyl. CDs are practical carriers of sounds, and can sometimes be nice objects in their own right, but vinyls are cult objects – fetishes, if you will. And as such very covetable – and collectible.

Watching the documentary Blood, Sweat and Vinyl the other day sparked a moment's self-reflection in the long-eared Lord.

Vinyl looks great, sounds great, and is fun to collect. As a result of this one easily obtains quite a bit of it. In the picture above can be seen a selection of His Lordship's recent aquisitions, and below a small slice of the huge collection of some of the finest music ever made, bestowed by the elder Bassington-Bassington onto his offspring. All in all there's quite a lot to listen to, and let's not even mention the whole wall covered with CDs. Or the cassettes.

So yes, even if one isn’t a completist, collecting can get out of hand. But even if Lord Bassington-Bassington does spend a bit of his time stalking record shops and various online vendors, His Lordship is luckily not as seriously afflicted as the people one can meet in the film simply entitled Vinyl.



This documentary comes highly recommended. You might expect it to be a bit like High Fidelity, but honestly it is a lot more like Trainspotting.