by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. Those of us who (pace Black Sabbath) sold our soul for #steez know the inner duel. Inside us, our better angels, those attempting to persuade us to better ourselves b...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. I often spare a thought for my friend, fellow cat lover and erstwhile Elliot Richardson impersonator Derek Guy, who founded a blog called Die, Workwear! and now writes...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. It’s amazing to realize the joy that can arise simply from the removal of crushing despair. Nonetheless, this year continues to inexorably grind out reminders of its a...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. Greg, the Man of No Man Walks Alone, once told me he couldn’t stand the fake “fallen noble” look of Arnys, which was once a niche shop on Paris’ Left Bank and is now a...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. A fellow once joined a discussion board to post about a peculiar problem: he always wore out the elbows of his shirts first. I don’t know what he was doing (perhaps his...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. International tragedies have a way of making me sympathetic to the works of Hugo Jacomet. Perhaps his works somehow anticipate the direction the world moves. Recently...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. “Aye. Looked for It. And I found it. Miles Standish Proud. Congratulate me.” That unmistakable nasal whine. Those lyrics, unforgettable to me after thirty-odd years, n...