Hendaye - Colonial look

Off I go

Today was my last day at work before going on vacations. Tomorrow I will be smiling like these two danish girls... See you!

Did I ever mention I've got a crush on striped shirts?

Flower power

Some travellers just prefer light colours

Aninhas

(I was crazy about publishing a post in which I could have a portrait of motherhood even before it occurs, I just didn’t expect such a young or beautiful mom) But I didn’t need to tell her this to make her smile and there was no need to ask her to put her hands around her belly to do so.

I show some photos to my sister with the same excitement with which, until very recently ago, before an important date, I was in her room to ask "do I look fine?” My sister recognized Aninhas, she did her the only single braid that she had in her hair. And she answered to me:

- Yes, you look fine…you look just fine

100 posts and counting – Clear blues rectangles over gray background

My first friend to have a blog started it 5 years ago. “Since July 16th 2004” can be read at the top, even before his playlist, his Twitters updates and other mini-applications available by Blogger. The other day I saw a blog that celebrated its 2.000.000 million visit. Anyway… everyone has its stage, and mine, 6 months of existence and 100 posts are reasons more than enough to be celebrated here. I say this because my life changed a bit. For anyone who spends the days sitting in an office with enough natural light to stop complaining about his life, that answers phone in a standardized way and acts in the way that best combines his own will and what the entity that rewards him expects, this blog represents a strong contrast. Approaching all these different people allows me to experience moments that all the social conventions from our life would hardly make it possible. And then, more than mine, The Lisbon Taylor… is me. That’s probably why I feel so personal about everything people write me: each critic, complement or simple warning touch me as if they talked about me, my hair, my integrity or lack of it.

It seems fair that I leave here a few acknowledgements. I should admit that it (still) is more fun for me to write for 1000 or 2000 people that for 100 or 200, to know that people liked my pictures and my writings and a number of parallel statements that, I believe, resume the feedback I get from comments, Facebook or e-mail. First of all, two fraternal thanks. The first one goes to Mário Fazendas, for his brilliant translations, that as you will see later have brought me great joys. Going through The Lisbon Taylor, the criteria is pretty simple. The translations that impress you the most are from Mário, and the ones that have at least half a dozen mistakes have been made by a consortium between me and Google Translator. To another good friend of mine, Rui Quinta, among other things, I thank him for the nicest business cards I have ever seen (capable of making Christian Bale in American Psycho sweat like hell), making it possible for the people I approach on the streets not to think of me as a disturbed guy kindly asking them to be a part of his blog.

I would also like to thank Time Out, TVI 24, SIC Mulher, This Is Our Thing, to Sancha Trindade and the coverage on Meia Hora and Time Out again (the hand that first feeds you is always the one you’ll never forget) for, in such distinct ways and through different resources, having shown a genuine interest and contributing for the revelation of the Taylor. Not forgetting all of those that were creating links and publishing posts about The Lisbon Taylor on their blogs. I would also like to thank Fashion Real Street Star and Shopping & Shopper for allowing me to find out that “global village” is not only a mere theoretical concept. I give special emphasis to the 3 monthly pages that Shopping & Shopper (a bilingual magazine, based in Beijing) plans to save for my work, in what was, up until now, the most striking proposition I’ve ever received. But more important, I’d like to thank to all of those that visit me regularly, especially those that are telling what they feel; and more than anything and anyone I’ve mentioned, to those that are pictured here, because without them… there wouldn’t be a Taylor.

All I have to do now is to dedicate a few words to the picture of the day. However, today exceptionally, this blog is more important than its guest. I can only say that, some day, the author of this all would have to be in the same place as were the ones he comes across with. The photo is from João Vieira.

Two sides of a same elegance

Dress in black and having almost 6,5 feet tall are definitely a good help but I still think there is something more about his elegance..

La Chemise Lacoste – my father's legacy

I think my dad has always been there for me more than most dads can be. Today still… as I’m about to get into my 30’s, he’s still the person with whom I’ve spent more hours holding hands, the one I went to the cinema with more often, and probably, with whom I’ve stayed longer watching a Lacoste window. I grew up watching my dad using and abusing that Crocodile and I still recall the day that, in the middle of Downtown, we bought my first polo shirt.

“You never really own a Patek Phillippe, you merely take care of it for the next generation.” This is probably the nicest advertising slogan I know. Let truth be told, something that is good for a luxury watch will hardly apply to a piece of clothing. But in my group of friends, I’m not the only one having the privilege of wearing a Lacoste polo shirt that has already belonged to their mother or father. And I just can’t remember another kind of cotton piece that can be washed 20 times each summer and can still hold on to the same rhythm for 30 more years. But I’ll go further, just a little bit further…

Since my teens, I’ve lost my fixation for brands and, above all, for the exhibition of its most distinctive elements. But there is one of those elements that has always resisted to my maturation – the Crocodile. I’ve never told this to anyone but I have a pair of corduroy trousers with the Crocodile stitched on, and when I wear them, every time I pass by a mirror, I always make sure that the pullover I’m wearing doesn’t hide my dear Crocodile. I don’t do it for the status (besides…the Crocodile can be found in a promenade in Saint-Tropez just as it can be seen on the toughest neighbourhoods in the outskirts of Paris); I do it because of a certain je ne sais quoi that I can’t find in me without it (after all, isn’t this the main goal of Marketing? Designing products with such attributes with which the consumer can feel identified?) For some reason, Lacoste is the most counterfeited brand in the whole world. For some reason, I wore those trousers on my first date with my girlfriend.

I still remember the satisfaction of carrying the bag – “no Dad, let me take it!” – with the white Polo shirt, just imagining how it would look on me the next day. Only now I start to realise that the first years of our lives are the most important. And only now, that my hair is starting to fall and what’s left of it is starting to have white shades, I go back to those days when the father figure is our hero and I understand that, like it or not, for good or for evil, that story about primary socialization (give or take) is really like this – it marks us forever.

The other day a friend told me that one of the things that led him to study Arts was his mother’s impressive talent for drawing. I didn’t tell him, but I’ve noticed that I’d never heard him talk about his mother legacy with such pride. Me and Rui, we have the same age, we’ve studied in the same school and we’ve fought for the attention of the same cute teacher (of the same school)… it doesn’t intrigue me that now we look over our shoulders the same way. For all of this and something more, it will be no surprise that even before my son can wear that red polo shirt you see in the picture, his mother, right in the middle of her pregnancy, will indulge me by wearing one of those beautiful piquet dresses, almost as timeless as the famous Polo 1212. Fetish? Maybe. Father legacy? Definitely. Marketing credit? Hell no… it’s Lacoste.

The Nailhead suit pattern - Queluz National Palace

The nailhead is a classic pattern that causes a geometric effect similar to a repetition of an head of a nail. Very common in gray or blue, this pattern is probably one of the best choices for those who, after 2 or 3 different plain suits, would like to have a different suit from the others, but do not feel comfortable to use (or simply do not like) listed or chequers suits.

When, 2 months ago, I wrote that the gray suit would be possibly my 2nd choice (after the dark blue and before the 1st chequers jacket) I was specifically imagining this nailhead light gray suit, ideal in a warm and sunny day

Harlem 1981, Lisbon 2009

Yesterday, a few hours before finding Edson, I had been trying to put into order the boxes and drawers that make up the usual mess of my room. I found a suitcase bursting with VHSs with some movies and series. There was a tape labelled as Hill Street Blues. The music grew on me immediately and I decided to rescue the old video.

I don’t know if in another day I would have stopped to address Edson. Maybe yes. maybe not. Yesterday I didn’t hesitate. The revival move me, Edson took me back.

Carolina and her colours

A Frenchman in Lisbon - sober black