Guess who's been on vacation. I know this blog was supposed to be updated infrequently, but leaving it in limbo since May was overdoing it a bit. What can I tell you? Other pressures, other projects.
Meanwhile, summer has come and almost gone. I haven't spent much time on the beach, but I did manage to squeeze in a few hours on the Venice Lido - arguably the world's most glamorous sandbar - last week. The Venetians are pretty snappy dressers, so it was easy to spot the tourists, myself included.
But at least I don't throw caution entirely to the wind when I dress for the seaside. The "amusing" t-shirts, fluorescent bathing trunks, flapping shorts, plastic shades and dodgy footwear - what's with the Crocs? - can make the beachfront an ugly place.
Even the very best dressers seem to lose their sartorial compass when confronted with a body of water. Remember Sean Connery's Bond (above) donning a sky blue towelling romper suit at the beginning of Goldfinger? It had a little belt with a buckle that went "click". Ian Fleming's 007 has killed men for less.
Fortunately, there's no question of arriving in Venice in anything less than style. Ignoring the churning vaporettos, you take your wallet firmly in hand and head for one of the beautiful Riva water taxis - little symphonies of wood, laquer and leather. It would be a tragedy to recline on the creamy banquette of one of these beauties with your loved one while wearing Crocs, cargo shorts and a t-shirt reading "I'm with this idiot". They demand loafers, vintage jeans, a white linen shirt and a navy blue blazer. Add some Ray Bans and the Lido beckons.
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