Vladimir And Me
I hope I'm not coming off too much like Ezra Pound in the Mussolini era when I express my general admiration for, and approval of, Vladimir Putin. No, I don't agree with everything he's done in the past decade, but then again I don't agree with everything that I've done in the past decade. He's a defender of Christianity in an era where world leaders are tripping over themselves to feed Christians to the metaphorical lions of resurgent Islam. He appears to sincerely believe in the greatness of his nation and his ability to contribute to that greatness.
Most importantly, it turns out that we dig the same tailors.
I don't have enough Russian (which is to say, I have none at all) to be able to read this page in its entirety. The pictures, however, speak the proverbial thousand words. Putin, like your humble author, is a Kiton devotee! Turns out he wears the red-label jeans all over the place. For those of you who aren't familiar with the brand, Wikipedia will serve well enough.
In my former life as a successful small businessman/entrepreneur, I occasionally availed myself of a Kiton tie, shirt, or blazer. There's no substitute for occasionally wearing the very best. Keep in mind that Kiton isn't Michael Kors or Kenneth Cole or some sort of utter stinking Chinese bullshit like that. I've been wearing the same Kiton linen jacket for a decade now. I've worn it in probably thirty states and three continents, in conditions ranging from sub-zero to Texas-in-the-summer. It's been dropped into mud and backed over with a car and used as an airplane pillow and had fountain pens leak in it and, in one unfortunate incident, used to wipe blood from my face after I, ahem, fell down a set of stairs in an alcohol-related incident near Washington, DC. You can't kill it. It looks brand new.
Which is good, because the last time I went to a Kiton store their Summer 2015 linen coats were up to $6,800 base price. I can't currently afford to replace either of my K-brand coats. For just $895, however, I could join Vladimir in the exalted ranks of Kiton denim cognoscenti. I ain't gonna do it, though, and I'll tell you why. Given my current streak of luck, if I put them on to ride a motorcycle, I'd almost certainly dump said bike. Not hard enough to kill me, but hard enough to ruin the pants.
Maybe I'll get lucky and Mr. Putin will put some of his old Kiton jeans on eBay or something. Not that I could fit into them --- I'm much closer to the proverbial Russian bear in size, really --- but with two pairs and a patient tailor I might be able to come up with something. The truth, however, is that I panicked when Lucky discontinued their USA-made jeans and promptly bought ten pairs of what they had left. So if you see me wearing denim on the street, it will be Lucky. Ironic, really, until you consider that, for good or (mostly) for bad, I make my own luck.