from “Value Village Lyric”
We think of the casual bravado of Baudelaire’s tied black cravat against the scrim of white collar in the photograph by Nadar. The fabric of his coat is stiff, with shiny folds at the torso. The shoulders have an unfamiliar, mincing cut. The upper collar is velvet. Where his hand rests in trouser pocket the jacket flips back to show the dark silk facing. We wish we could experience the fit of this jacket, slip our arms into the ruched sleeves of Baudelaire. Its odd skimpiness would translate our stance. Its worn cuff would brush our books, absorb our ink. We would realize the place of the pronoun beneath the binding torso of the tailored jacket, which would give our soul troublesome deluxe shape. We would be handsome and sparkling.
The is the penultimate paragraph of Lisa Robertson’s excursion into the “House of V” and provides a new view on vintage. It is collected in Occasional Work and Seven Walks from the Office of Soft Architecture which is itself a fine accessory to a fitting wardrobe. As a sometimes user of fountain pens, I am particularly captured by the touch of the cuff absorbing ink.
And so for day 1032