Derby Attire

[Dashing Bob S]

The problem with the revivial of the traditional New Year’s day fixture is that it doesn’t give one much time to get back home for that all-important costume change after a hard day’s night first-footing. I’m fortunately circumventing this by having some friends back to mine for ‘hoggers’: stipulating, of course, that only those of the green persuation are allowed across the threshold!

This should give me time to shave and shower at leisure, then pull on the robe and slippers, and just STAND in my walk-in-dressing room, soaking up the unique atmosphere and pre-visualising sartorial success, prior to striking out at the appropriate racks and drawers like a veritable cobra.

Weather-wise, I anticipate a coldish day with the possibility of the odd shower. Obviously, I’ll stay up-to-date on that front, but let us take this as a starting point and we can fine-tune should further climatic exigencies present themselves. Done deal?
Onto business. Let’s not pussyfoot: a gentleman always starts with shoes. My advice to youth is always the same: for favorable outcomes with women and in business, (and who truly amongst us can say that they are not interested in sex or money?) NEVER make footwear an afterthought.
My instincts in the shoe arena veer resolutely towards the simplicity of the Oxford lace-up, but for our treacherous climate, to say nothing of the grit and dog-excrement soiled pavements, a decent pair of brogues will never let you down. My advice is to have them made for you. Yes, this is ludicrously expensive (we’re talking about a grand a pair) but you simply cannot buy class. But lets take a step back: we are talking about tramping the streets of Gorgie, and thus sullying the work of a master cobbler on those shabby boulevards would be an almost criminal act. So some black waterproof nubuck brogues with rubber sole will do this unenviable job perfectly well, and you’ll still have change from a hundred pounds.
I’ve managed to avoid festive weight-gain this year, through discipline with the Christmas pud and by having a basement mini-gym installed, the treadmill and cross-trainer burning off those naughty cals as they are accrued. I’m still at a trim 30 inches, therefore trousers shouldn’t be too much of an angst-ridden decision. At the Harvey Nicks sale I picked up a nice pair of cotton low-rise D&G, two-tone taupe with some natty fine white pinstripe detailing, which should fit the bill admirably. It has both slash and coin pockets to the front with one button down pocket to the back, a premium at this time of year. The slight pleated detail to side of the legs helps heighten that satisfactory casual-formal fusion essential in a stride required to do both seasonal traipsing and lounging.
INTERLUDE: Throwing pebbles from the path in an underhand sophisticated lob to suruptitiously smash several panes in Jambo neighbour Alan’s somewhat antiquated and rather cheap greenhouse. (Thought I’d share.)

Lucky for me Alan’s Jambo bino’s cannot penetrate the inner sanctum of Chez Stewart. If that were the case, (in some touching parallel universe where Albert Kidd didn’t exist and doubles were won) he would be privy to me shooting straight out the left field, being irrepressibly low rent, wearing my Christmas etc etc, but mother has knitted me an impressive lambswool chocolate brown sweater, which I feel begs a festive airing.

Coat? Do me a favour! It has to be my custom made (Hollis of Oregon, USA – those chaps know how to make satisfactory outdoor wear) black leather and shearling sheepskin coat. This garment utterly fascinates me. Chunky enough to mix it with our robust winter climes, yet somewhat (and I’m painfully aware that the word is debased currency, but nothing else will suffice) sexy. I’ve lost count of the filly’s who’ve bashfully wandered that short but potentially devastating distance across the barroom floor to take a pinch of said item between forefinger and thumb and seductively purr ‘...nice...’. (One finds the appropriate response on such an occasion is to raise a solitary eyebrow – my left, your right- and mouth ‘indeed’ from between viper lips.)

While a man finds himself in his shoes, the world judges him by his coat. I’d steadfastly urge all fellow Greens to pass that test. A decent jacket is nothing less than an essential. Remember, dress for success and success will come to you.

I take this opportunity to wish every Hibs fan a terrific 2011.

[Pedantic_Hibee]

Splendid, old bean.

Given my location and inability to get to the game, I'll be sat in my underpants with a beer in my hand.

[Tricla]

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The problem with the revivial of the traditional New Year’s day fixture is that it doesn’t give one much time to get back home for that all-important costume change after a hard day’s night first-footing. I’m fortunately circumventing this by having some friends back to mine for ‘hoggers’: stipulating, of course, that only those of the green persuation are allowed across the threshold!

This should give me time to shave and shower at leisure, then pull on the robe and slippers, and just STAND in my walk-in-dressing room, soaking up the unique atmosphere and pre-visualising sartorial success, prior to striking out at the appropriate racks and drawers like a veritable cobra.

Weather-wise, I anticipate a coldish day with the possibility of the odd shower. Obviously, I’ll stay up-to-date on that front, but let us take this as a starting point and we can fine-tune should further climatic exigencies present themselves. Done deal?
Onto business. Let’s not pussyfoot: a gentleman always starts with shoes. My advice to youth is always the same: for favorable outcomes with women and in business, (and who truly amongst us can say that they are not interested in sex or money?) NEVER make footwear an afterthought.
My instincts in the shoe arena veer resolutely towards the simplicity of the Oxford lace-up, but for our treacherous climate, to say nothing of the grit and dog-excrement soiled pavements, a decent pair of brogues will never let you down. My advice is to have them made for you. Yes, this is ludicrously expensive (we’re talking about a grand a pair) but you simply cannot buy class. But lets take a step back: we are talking about tramping the streets of Gorgie, and thus sullying the work of a master cobbler on those shabby boulevards would be an almost criminal act. So some black waterproof nubuck brogues with rubber sole will do this unenviable job perfectly well, and you’ll still have change from a hundred pounds.
I’ve managed to avoid festive weight-gain this year, through discipline with the Christmas pud and by having a basement mini-gym installed, the treadmill and cross-trainer burning off those naughty cals as they are accrued. I’m still at a trim 30 inches, therefore trousers shouldn’t be too much of an angst-ridden decision. At the Harvey Nicks sale I picked up a nice pair of cotton low-rise D&G, two-tone taupe with some natty fine white pinstripe detailing, which should fit the bill admirably. It has both slash and coin pockets to the front with one button down pocket to the back, a premium at this time of year. The slight pleated detail to side of the legs helps heighten that satisfactory casual-formal fusion essential in a stride required to do both seasonal traipsing and lounging.
INTERLUDE: Throwing pebbles from the path in an underhand sophisticated lob to suruptitiously smash several panes in Jambo neighbour Alan’s somewhat antiquated and rather cheap greenhouse. (Thought I’d share.)

Lucky for me Alan’s Jambo bino’s cannot penetrate the inner sanctum of Chez Stewart. If that were the case, (in some touching parallel universe where Albert Kidd didn’t exist and doubles were won) he would be privy to me shooting straight out the left field, being irrepressibly low rent, wearing my Christmas etc etc, but mother has knitted me an impressive lambswool chocolate brown sweater, which I feel begs a festive airing.

Coat? Do me a favour! It has to be my custom made (Hollis of Oregon, USA – those chaps know how to make satisfactory outdoor wear) black leather and shearling sheepskin coat. This garment utterly fascinates me. Chunky enough to mix it with our robust winter climes, yet somewhat (and I’m painfully aware that the word is debased currency, but nothing else will suffice) sexy. I’ve lost count of the filly’s who’ve bashfully wandered that short but potentially devastating distance across the barroom floor to take a pinch of said item between forefinger and thumb and seductively purr ‘...nice...’. (One finds the appropriate response on such an occasion is to raise a solitary eyebrow – my left, your right- and mouth ‘indeed’ from between viper lips.)

While a man finds himself in his shoes, the world judges him by his coat. I’d steadfastly urge all fellow Greens to pass that test. A decent jacket is nothing less than an essential. Remember, dress for success and success will come to you.

I take this opportunity to wish every Hibs fan a terrific 2011.

[hibsbollah]

More good work Bob

As for me, the feather boa, Nehru jaiket and ''MacBean Protective Clothing' purple away shirt combo. Never fails.

[trev the hat]

http://www.funnyhub.com/pictures/img...ound-drunk.jpg

A pair o Timberlands & am ready Bob !!!

[Pretty Boy]

I'm thinking of going topless to show of the body sculpted form paving driveways to best effect. This coupled with the Active 2 stripe 'popper' trackie bottoms should be a winning look.

I do agree about shoes being important so i'll be pulling out all the stops with my new Hi Tec trainers.

This is of course assuming that my best gear has survived the flooding in the caravan and that i can shift a few pegs to pay the final instalment on the shoes.

[WeAreHibs]

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The problem with the revivial of the traditional New Year’s day fixture is that it doesn’t give one much time to get back home for that all-important costume change after a hard day’s night first-footing. I’m fortunately circumventing this by having some friends back to mine for ‘hoggers’: stipulating, of course, that only those of the green persuation are allowed across the threshold!

This should give me time to shave and shower at leisure, then pull on the robe and slippers, and just STAND in my walk-in-dressing room, soaking up the unique atmosphere and pre-visualising sartorial success, prior to striking out at the appropriate racks and drawers like a veritable cobra.

Weather-wise, I anticipate a coldish day with the possibility of the odd shower. Obviously, I’ll stay up-to-date on that front, but let us take this as a starting point and we can fine-tune should further climatic exigencies present themselves. Done deal?
Onto business. Let’s not pussyfoot: a gentleman always starts with shoes. My advice to youth is always the same: for favorable outcomes with women and in business, (and who truly amongst us can say that they are not interested in sex or money?) NEVER make footwear an afterthought.
My instincts in the shoe arena veer resolutely towards the simplicity of the Oxford lace-up, but for our treacherous climate, to say nothing of the grit and dog-excrement soiled pavements, a decent pair of brogues will never let you down. My advice is to have them made for you. Yes, this is ludicrously expensive (we’re talking about a grand a pair) but you simply cannot buy class. But lets take a step back: we are talking about tramping the streets of Gorgie, and thus sullying the work of a master cobbler on those shabby boulevards would be an almost criminal act. So some black waterproof nubuck brogues with rubber sole will do this unenviable job perfectly well, and you’ll still have change from a hundred pounds.
I’ve managed to avoid festive weight-gain this year, through discipline with the Christmas pud and by having a basement mini-gym installed, the treadmill and cross-trainer burning off those naughty cals as they are accrued. I’m still at a trim 30 inches, therefore trousers shouldn’t be too much of an angst-ridden decision. At the Harvey Nicks sale I picked up a nice pair of cotton low-rise D&G, two-tone taupe with some natty fine white pinstripe detailing, which should fit the bill admirably. It has both slash and coin pockets to the front with one button down pocket to the back, a premium at this time of year. The slight pleated detail to side of the legs helps heighten that satisfactory casual-formal fusion essential in a stride required to do both seasonal traipsing and lounging.
INTERLUDE: Throwing pebbles from the path in an underhand sophisticated lob to suruptitiously smash several panes in Jambo neighbour Alan’s somewhat antiquated and rather cheap greenhouse. (Thought I’d share.)

Lucky for me Alan’s Jambo bino’s cannot penetrate the inner sanctum of Chez Stewart. If that were the case, (in some touching parallel universe where Albert Kidd didn’t exist and doubles were won) he would be privy to me shooting straight out the left field, being irrepressibly low rent, wearing my Christmas etc etc, but mother has knitted me an impressive lambswool chocolate brown sweater, which I feel begs a festive airing.

Coat? Do me a favour! It has to be my custom made (Hollis of Oregon, USA – those chaps know how to make satisfactory outdoor wear) black leather and shearling sheepskin coat. This garment utterly fascinates me. Chunky enough to mix it with our robust winter climes, yet somewhat (and I’m painfully aware that the word is debased currency, but nothing else will suffice) sexy. I’ve lost count of the filly’s who’ve bashfully wandered that short but potentially devastating distance across the barroom floor to take a pinch of said item between forefinger and thumb and seductively purr ‘...nice...’. (One finds the appropriate response on such an occasion is to raise a solitary eyebrow – my left, your right- and mouth ‘indeed’ from between viper lips.)

While a man finds himself in his shoes, the world judges him by his coat. I’d steadfastly urge all fellow Greens to pass that test. A decent jacket is nothing less than an essential. Remember, dress for success and success will come to you.

I take this opportunity to wish every Hibs fan a terrific 2011.

Post of the Year!!

[jackhfc]

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The problem with the revivial of the traditional New Year’s day fixture is that it doesn’t give one much time to get back home for that all-important costume change after a hard day’s night first-footing. I’m fortunately circumventing this by having some friends back to mine for ‘hoggers’: stipulating, of course, that only those of the green persuation are allowed across the threshold!

This should give me time to shave and shower at leisure, then pull on the robe and slippers, and just STAND in my walk-in-dressing room, soaking up the unique atmosphere and pre-visualising sartorial success, prior to striking out at the appropriate racks and drawers like a veritable cobra.

Weather-wise, I anticipate a coldish day with the possibility of the odd shower. Obviously, I’ll stay up-to-date on that front, but let us take this as a starting point and we can fine-tune should further climatic exigencies present themselves. Done deal?
Onto business. Let’s not pussyfoot: a gentleman always starts with shoes. My advice to youth is always the same: for favorable outcomes with women and in business, (and who truly amongst us can say that they are not interested in sex or money?) NEVER make footwear an afterthought.
My instincts in the shoe arena veer resolutely towards the simplicity of the Oxford lace-up, but for our treacherous climate, to say nothing of the grit and dog-excrement soiled pavements, a decent pair of brogues will never let you down. My advice is to have them made for you. Yes, this is ludicrously expensive (we’re talking about a grand a pair) but you simply cannot buy class. But lets take a step back: we are talking about tramping the streets of Gorgie, and thus sullying the work of a master cobbler on those shabby boulevards would be an almost criminal act. So some black waterproof nubuck brogues with rubber sole will do this unenviable job perfectly well, and you’ll still have change from a hundred pounds.
I’ve managed to avoid festive weight-gain this year, through discipline with the Christmas pud and by having a basement mini-gym installed, the treadmill and cross-trainer burning off those naughty cals as they are accrued. I’m still at a trim 30 inches, therefore trousers shouldn’t be too much of an angst-ridden decision. At the Harvey Nicks sale I picked up a nice pair of cotton low-rise D&G, two-tone taupe with some natty fine white pinstripe detailing, which should fit the bill admirably. It has both slash and coin pockets to the front with one button down pocket to the back, a premium at this time of year. The slight pleated detail to side of the legs helps heighten that satisfactory casual-formal fusion essential in a stride required to do both seasonal traipsing and lounging.
INTERLUDE: Throwing pebbles from the path in an underhand sophisticated lob to suruptitiously smash several panes in Jambo neighbour Alan’s somewhat antiquated and rather cheap greenhouse. (Thought I’d share.)

Lucky for me Alan’s Jambo bino’s cannot penetrate the inner sanctum of Chez Stewart. If that were the case, (in some touching parallel universe where Albert Kidd didn’t exist and doubles were won) he would be privy to me shooting straight out the left field, being irrepressibly low rent, wearing my Christmas etc etc, but mother has knitted me an impressive lambswool chocolate brown sweater, which I feel begs a festive airing.

Coat? Do me a favour! It has to be my custom made (Hollis of Oregon, USA – those chaps know how to make satisfactory outdoor wear) black leather and shearling sheepskin coat. This garment utterly fascinates me. Chunky enough to mix it with our robust winter climes, yet somewhat (and I’m painfully aware that the word is debased currency, but nothing else will suffice) sexy. I’ve lost count of the filly’s who’ve bashfully wandered that short but potentially devastating distance across the barroom floor to take a pinch of said item between forefinger and thumb and seductively purr ‘...nice...’. (One finds the appropriate response on such an occasion is to raise a solitary eyebrow – my left, your right- and mouth ‘indeed’ from between viper lips.)

While a man finds himself in his shoes, the world judges him by his coat. I’d steadfastly urge all fellow Greens to pass that test. A decent jacket is nothing less than an essential. Remember, dress for success and success will come to you.

I take this opportunity to wish every Hibs fan a terrific 2011.

The ultimate post,

[Keith_M]

I shall be attending wearing my best 'Jeremy Clarksons', Christmas Tree Jumper and Bright Green Welly Boots.

A sight to behold!

[HibeeSince85]

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The problem with the revivial of the traditional New Year’s day fixture is that it doesn’t give one much time to get back home for that all-important costume change after a hard day’s night first-footing. I’m fortunately circumventing this by having some friends back to mine for ‘hoggers’: stipulating, of course, that only those of the green persuation are allowed across the threshold!

This should give me time to shave and shower at leisure, then pull on the robe and slippers, and just STAND in my walk-in-dressing room, soaking up the unique atmosphere and pre-visualising sartorial success, prior to striking out at the appropriate racks and drawers like a veritable cobra.

Weather-wise, I anticipate a coldish day with the possibility of the odd shower. Obviously, I’ll stay up-to-date on that front, but let us take this as a starting point and we can fine-tune should further climatic exigencies present themselves. Done deal?
Onto business. Let’s not pussyfoot: a gentleman always starts with shoes. My advice to youth is always the same: for favorable outcomes with women and in business, (and who truly amongst us can say that they are not interested in sex or money?) NEVER make footwear an afterthought.
My instincts in the shoe arena veer resolutely towards the simplicity of the Oxford lace-up, but for our treacherous climate, to say nothing of the grit and dog-excrement soiled pavements, a decent pair of brogues will never let you down. My advice is to have them made for you. Yes, this is ludicrously expensive (we’re talking about a grand a pair) but you simply cannot buy class. But lets take a step back: we are talking about tramping the streets of Gorgie, and thus sullying the work of a master cobbler on those shabby boulevards would be an almost criminal act. So some black waterproof nubuck brogues with rubber sole will do this unenviable job perfectly well, and you’ll still have change from a hundred pounds.
I’ve managed to avoid festive weight-gain this year, through discipline with the Christmas pud and by having a basement mini-gym installed, the treadmill and cross-trainer burning off those naughty cals as they are accrued. I’m still at a trim 30 inches, therefore trousers shouldn’t be too much of an angst-ridden decision. At the Harvey Nicks sale I picked up a nice pair of cotton low-rise D&G, two-tone taupe with some natty fine white pinstripe detailing, which should fit the bill admirably. It has both slash and coin pockets to the front with one button down pocket to the back, a premium at this time of year. The slight pleated detail to side of the legs helps heighten that satisfactory casual-formal fusion essential in a stride required to do both seasonal traipsing and lounging.
INTERLUDE: Throwing pebbles from the path in an underhand sophisticated lob to suruptitiously smash several panes in Jambo neighbour Alan’s somewhat antiquated and rather cheap greenhouse. (Thought I’d share.)

Lucky for me Alan’s Jambo bino’s cannot penetrate the inner sanctum of Chez Stewart. If that were the case, (in some touching parallel universe where Albert Kidd didn’t exist and doubles were won) he would be privy to me shooting straight out the left field, being irrepressibly low rent, wearing my Christmas etc etc, but mother has knitted me an impressive lambswool chocolate brown sweater, which I feel begs a festive airing.

Coat? Do me a favour! It has to be my custom made (Hollis of Oregon, USA – those chaps know how to make satisfactory outdoor wear) black leather and shearling sheepskin coat. This garment utterly fascinates me. Chunky enough to mix it with our robust winter climes, yet somewhat (and I’m painfully aware that the word is debased currency, but nothing else will suffice) sexy. I’ve lost count of the filly’s who’ve bashfully wandered that short but potentially devastating distance across the barroom floor to take a pinch of said item between forefinger and thumb and seductively purr ‘...nice...’. (One finds the appropriate response on such an occasion is to raise a solitary eyebrow – my left, your right- and mouth ‘indeed’ from between viper lips.)

While a man finds himself in his shoes, the world judges him by his coat. I’d steadfastly urge all fellow Greens to pass that test. A decent jacket is nothing less than an essential. Remember, dress for success and success will come to you.

I take this opportunity to wish every Hibs fan a terrific 2011.

The attire of a Hibs fan if ever there was one, I admire your style good sir!

[Bostonhibby]

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The problem with the revivial of the traditional New Year’s day fixture is that it doesn’t give one much time to get back home for that all-important costume change after a hard day’s night first-footing. I’m fortunately circumventing this by having some friends back to mine for ‘hoggers’: stipulating, of course, that only those of the green persuation are allowed across the threshold!

This should give me time to shave and shower at leisure, then pull on the robe and slippers, and just STAND in my walk-in-dressing room, soaking up the unique atmosphere and pre-visualising sartorial success, prior to striking out at the appropriate racks and drawers like a veritable cobra.

Weather-wise, I anticipate a coldish day with the possibility of the odd shower. Obviously, I’ll stay up-to-date on that front, but let us take this as a starting point and we can fine-tune should further climatic exigencies present themselves. Done deal?
Onto business. Let’s not pussyfoot: a gentleman always starts with shoes. My advice to youth is always the same: for favorable outcomes with women and in business, (and who truly amongst us can say that they are not interested in sex or money?) NEVER make footwear an afterthought.
My instincts in the shoe arena veer resolutely towards the simplicity of the Oxford lace-up, but for our treacherous climate, to say nothing of the grit and dog-excrement soiled pavements, a decent pair of brogues will never let you down. My advice is to have them made for you. Yes, this is ludicrously expensive (we’re talking about a grand a pair) but you simply cannot buy class. But lets take a step back: we are talking about tramping the streets of Gorgie, and thus sullying the work of a master cobbler on those shabby boulevards would be an almost criminal act. So some black waterproof nubuck brogues with rubber sole will do this unenviable job perfectly well, and you’ll still have change from a hundred pounds.
I’ve managed to avoid festive weight-gain this year, through discipline with the Christmas pud and by having a basement mini-gym installed, the treadmill and cross-trainer burning off those naughty cals as they are accrued. I’m still at a trim 30 inches, therefore trousers shouldn’t be too much of an angst-ridden decision. At the Harvey Nicks sale I picked up a nice pair of cotton low-rise D&G, two-tone taupe with some natty fine white pinstripe detailing, which should fit the bill admirably. It has both slash and coin pockets to the front with one button down pocket to the back, a premium at this time of year. The slight pleated detail to side of the legs helps heighten that satisfactory casual-formal fusion essential in a stride required to do both seasonal traipsing and lounging.
INTERLUDE: Throwing pebbles from the path in an underhand sophisticated lob to suruptitiously smash several panes in Jambo neighbour Alan’s somewhat antiquated and rather cheap greenhouse. (Thought I’d share.)

Lucky for me Alan’s Jambo bino’s cannot penetrate the inner sanctum of Chez Stewart. If that were the case, (in some touching parallel universe where Albert Kidd didn’t exist and doubles were won) he would be privy to me shooting straight out the left field, being irrepressibly low rent, wearing my Christmas etc etc, but mother has knitted me an impressive lambswool chocolate brown sweater, which I feel begs a festive airing.

Coat? Do me a favour! It has to be my custom made (Hollis of Oregon, USA – those chaps know how to make satisfactory outdoor wear) black leather and shearling sheepskin coat. This garment utterly fascinates me. Chunky enough to mix it with our robust winter climes, yet somewhat (and I’m painfully aware that the word is debased currency, but nothing else will suffice) sexy. I’ve lost count of the filly’s who’ve bashfully wandered that short but potentially devastating distance across the barroom floor to take a pinch of said item between forefinger and thumb and seductively purr ‘...nice...’. (One finds the appropriate response on such an occasion is to raise a solitary eyebrow – my left, your right- and mouth ‘indeed’ from between viper lips.)

While a man finds himself in his shoes, the world judges him by his coat. I’d steadfastly urge all fellow Greens to pass that test. A decent jacket is nothing less than an essential. Remember, dress for success and success will come to you.

I take this opportunity to wish every Hibs fan a terrific 2011.

Read it twice, and might come back to it with other options as the reality of morning overtakes the optimism of the late evening but meantime, so long as the snow has cleared how about white suit, Overcoat, shoes and Fedora? Down Tynecastle way they might see you as a buyer?

Otherwise, great post, you must share the details of the man who writes all this on your behalf with the rest of us.

Have a great 2011 DBS.

[Ernie Cobra]

duggy highlife of scottish fitba

[Lucius Apuleius]

Not bad Bob, trousers not to my liking but each to their own eh?

Personally I will be on the same sort of track as the Pedantic one. Shorts and champagne.

Best wishes to all. Lets hope 2011 is a helluva lot better than 2010 footballing wise.