The Pleasure of My Company

I believe a man never looks better than when he's dressed in black tie. Or better yet- white tie.

The first dinner jacket or 'tuxedo" I ever wore was a cheap, out of style $15 number I rented for the 1971 Jupiter High Junior-Senior Prom. All the other guys blew $30 or more on gaudy jackets and ruffled shirts topped with gigantic butterfly bowties. I recall feeling slightly uncomfortable in my old rig- like Don Draper at a tractor pull. Adding to my miserable attire was my crowning glory: half brown/ half blond shoulder length hair- courtesy of a bottle of Clairol's Summer Blond that I split with my future art school roommate a year earlier.

__

"Blonde" leading the Blonde. The Jupiter High Junior-senior Prom, 1971. "Her Majesty" never spaketh to me again after that night.

                                             

I caved to current fashion the following year and
 lost most of my blond hair  after cutting it into
 a stylish "shag."  My demeanor took a serious turn
 that year as my focus turned to pursuing
 my post-graduation dream of being a lifeguard
 and "surfing all day."

New Years Eve, 1989,
in a smart Ralph Lauren tux.
Everyone looked better
in 1989!

                 

With WPBF reporter Terri Parker in 2008.

 You simply can't go wrong in classic Brooks Brothers

black tie. I wear them while painting, at the football game

 or blacktopping the driveway. But never before 6 p.m.!

"Fine! I'll leave! With my head held HANDSOME!"

It is gratifying to see Handsome Awareness take root. Watch this very funny, poignant, very HANDSOME clip from the Jimmy Kimmel Show last night.

"I happen to have one of the best bodies here"

"You do?"

"He's wearing Spanx!"

"Those are my superhero tights. I fight crime in them!"

Watch it.

La Vie Handsome

À Paris une journée particulièrement bonne de cheveux. Naturellement, journalière était une bonne journée de cheveux.

J'ai essayé d'apprendre à parler français à l'université junior de Palm Beach et ai échoué malheureux.

Ainsi tout que j'écris ici a été traduit par Babelfish- excepté le grand bloc de texte aléatoire que j'ai couperé-coll.

J'ai juste ajouté cela pour montrer au loin aux légions de dames parlantes non-Françaises qui suivent ma vie belle. Sans compter que ce blog est tout au sujet des images belles !

C'est moi, regardant en particulier se précipitant, dans un magasin parisien CA 1992 d'affiche. J'ai acheté une affiche de Robert Doisneau et quelques cartes postales de nudie. Avons-nous fait pas tous ?


Né à Besançon, le 26 février 1802.
Poète précoce, il concourut pour le prix de poésie à l'Académie à l'âge de 15 ans ; l'Académie crut que le jeune poète se moquait d'elle en donnant cet âge et ne lui accorda qu'une mention ; lauréat des Jeux floraux de Toulouse en 1819 et 1820, il fut nommé maître ès Jeux floraux. Il publia le premier volume des Odes et Ballades en 1822 et le second en 1826 ; entre ces deux volumes avaient paru les deux premiers romans, Han d'Islande en 1823 et Bug Jargal en 1825, et le Cénacle s'était fondé. La Préface de Cromwell en 1827 fit de Victor Hugo le chef de la nouvelle école romantique ;

'Tis the Season!

The last night of my favorite year... entering the Young Friends of the Red Cross Ball on New Years Eve, 1988,  held at Whitehall, Palm Beach.

Now you can shop from home or office - without leaving your computer!

Available exclusively at My Handsome Store, our "MadMan" Tie* features the MHL logo and "Not The Face!" catchphrase set in elegant Ebony on a field of French White. Doctors love how it looks with their labcoats! (Nurses too ;))

*Not to be confused with the hit tv series of a similar name. All sales final. MHL cannot guarantee delivery by Christmas.

Not the Face! Not the Face!

Shortly after my twin brother, Steve (top photo, yes we are wearing the same shirt) and I arrived in the little south Florida town of Jupiter he was accosted by a gang of toughs on his way to junior high school.

One stepped forward and threatened my brother:
"Stay away from my girlfriend or I'll kick your ass," he explained. My brother didn't even KNOW the girl. Apparently she had remarked that he was "cute" and it was instant "Capulets vs. Montagues.

"I'll kick your ass, " he explained.

In a fistfight, my brother led with his nose which could projectile-bleed on command. It was a defense mechanism- like a porcupine or blowfish. His tormentors would recoil in horror at the sight of nose blood spraying their stupid "Ford, the Breakfast of Chevys" t-shirts. Most of his "fights" ended without a single punch thrown.

The easiest way to tell us apart was knowing that it was he who walked the school hallways, with his head tilted proudly back, chin up and nose thrust regally in the air sporting a bloody tissue dangling from one nostril.

I simply started throwing punches immediately when challenged which put the bully on defense. Invariably he'd go in to wrastling mode to get out of the way of my merciless windmilling fists of fury and the fight would end in a draw.

Most importantly, it left my face intact.

The Hunt Club

My artist's studio- The Hunt Club, is normally closed to everyone. Few people, even members of my family, have ever been inside. It has nothing to do with modesty. I'd rather that people imagine fine art masterpieces inside than see the cold practical reality of the mostly commercial art on display.

A few months ago I turned my keys over to a visiting relative in need of a stay. A dinner party broke out one night and The Hunt Club was abuzz with friends and relatives. Food and drink was served followed by the requisite tour and ended with (more) drinks on the patio. Little comment was made about my paintings.

"Did you notice all the framed pictures he has of himself?" slurred one.

"He doesn't even know who the other
people are!" managed another.

Dewey Defeats Truman!

I never expected to be recognized as a "Senior Superlative" in my high school yearbook though I thought I had a shot at "Best Looking."

I didn't play organized sports, dressed poorly and was graduated from the bottom of my class. Small objects and toys were a choking hazard. My academic history was summed up in a handwritten note tucked in my "Life's File" that the Guidance Counselor kept. It read "Grades below average but passing. Likes to keep his hair long."

So when the yearbook came out it was no shock to me that I wasn't named "Most Likely to Succeed" and crowned "Wittiest" instead. A bit of typecasting as I had been humiliated with the "Class Clown" moniker in my sophomore year. My hapless twin brother was named "Friendliest" which was another way of saying "not as dangerous or sexy as his twin."

To my chagrin, a popular athlete was named "Best Looking" probably because "Most Athletic" went to someone else. He looked okay, I guess. He had a decent car and dressed better than I. Since I counted surfing as "taking a bath" he probably beat me on personal hygiene as well.

I demand a recount!

Facebook- the Living Obituary

At first I uploaded old pictures to my personal albums out of pure vanity. It's common practice on Facebook to upload old pictures of yourself posing with old friends who you dutifully tag and share. Common sense dictates that you look really good in the photo- preferably better than your dear old friends.

Before Facebook, the only place we had this much control over our public image was on the obituary page in the local newspaper.

Radio Handsome

The great Phil Hendrie's funniest character - Chris Norton is constantly getting into trouble because he's "so good lookin."

In this clip- Chris' family is in an uproar after they caught him having "sess"  (while wearing a "tuss") with his cousin at a wedding reception in his uncle's home.

Phil Hendrie is the funniest, most original performer in the history of radio.

But not the handsomest.

Go, Baby, Go!

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can't be "beat!" Join the hepcats who "never yawn or say a commonplace thing"and  "shamble" on over to My Handsome Store to browse our exclusive line of "Not the Face" sportswear and "MHL POUR ELLE" for the special lady in your life.

Handsome-
it's the new "black."