Alan Ilagan

I wasn’t going to do this, since all I wanted for Christmas was a trip to London, but as that’s not happening I’ll put this out – mostly for my parents (and any online fans who want my eternal gratitude).

Let’s begin with the unattainable (it makes what I really want look that much more reasonable) – I’m not even going to bother with Louis Vuitton this year – not in these economically-lean times. I will, however, make an unimpassioned plea (I’m too lazy to work up passion right now) for a piece from Mulberry. Here we have the “Walter” – in black embossed leather, at just $1200 a pop. I know what you’re thinking – how many bags does this boy need? Just this one, and I’ll stop. I swear. Try me.

Now onto the real wants. In order to satisfy my travel yearnings, I’m eyeing a solo trip to the Southwest – somewhere with a desert, somewhere with a spa, somewhere where I can find myself. Simple enough, no?

But as is my wont, I only want to do it in luxury – starting with something akin to the Four Seasons. I don’t often get such highfalutin accommodations, and when I do it makes for an unforgettable experience.

Second, the gift of scent – always a safe bet for this olfactory-obsessed guy. Of course fragrance options are only safe when you don’t veer off the selections. (If you think you can pick out cologne I’ll like without my input, you will always be wrong.) Here are the few I’m feeling and fiending for right now.

Frederic Malle’s ‘Dans Tes Bras’ is the last of the current Malle fragrances that I want. (Here’s a trick I’ve done in the past – if you like an expensive scent like Malle, at most Barney’s stores you can ask for the travel size – which I think is 30 ml – for less than half the $225 price point of the regular size. It’s the best thing for a cologne chameleon like myself.) Obviously, I’m not going to turn down the regular size, as it would last me a lifetime, so use your own discretion.

As for perennial favorite Tom Ford, I offer a trio of choices, so there can still be an element of surprise: Amber Absolute, Lavender Palm, or Santal Blush. Any one of these would be a prize and, with the possible exception of Lavender Palm (which may not be out yet), should be available online at Neiman Marcus.

Third, the gift of wardrobe. When I was a kid, I hated the rectangular clothing boxes more than anything – no matter what was in it – a sweater, a pair of pants, a selection of socks – it was always a ho-hum gift that paled next to toys. My how times have changed – it’s hard to imagine there was ever a moment when I wouldn’t appreciate an item of clothing (Mom’s annual L.L. Bean matching fleece fiasco is the exception to the rule). This year I’ve got my sights set on a few shirts from Brooks Brothers – contact me directly for size and style, or just go with a gift certificate and save us all the trouble.

Fourth, you can never go wrong with a libation, and the makings of a cocktail are a perennially-classy choice. This year I’m wallowing in whiskey – preferably the 15 YO Fine Oak from Macallan as suggested by someone in-the-know. Or, if you’re looking to splurge, add three years for the 18 YO. Either way, whiskey warms the cockles of the heart better than just about anything.

Okay, fine, I lied about the one-more-bag only, but here’s a more decently-priced one from Cole Haan, which you can find online HERE at Zappos.com of all places. See, I do mingle with the people, dipping into the population, etc…

My love affair with any and all things related to Tom Ford continues in earnest this week, as I just received a few nifty samples from his New York location, as well as a wonderful package from the Neiman Marcus in Las Vegas. The company was kind enough to send a collection of samples from his Private Blend fragrances after I requested such in a letter to them. Never underestimate the power of a thoughtful, well-written letter. I’m not talking a text or a tweet or an e-mail – I mean the traditional, now-old-fashioned letter, on an actual piece of stationery, sent by way of the post office, using an actual stamp.

I had sent out a few query letters, not expecting anything in return. I was actually hoping to receive a sample of Ford’s latest scent, ‘Lavender Palm’ currently available only in their Beverly Hills location, but I was also intoxicated by the entire Private Blends line. This will help me narrow the search markedly, and avoid the pressurized sales pitch from the cologne counter.

Any company that takes the time to respond directly to a client’s request, and in this case delivering beyond expectations, is a company to which I will remain loyal. That’s a hard thing to cultivate in today’s world, when the slightest slight results in a negative tweet or inflammatory FaceBook post. I’ll even forgive all sorts of otherwise fickle drawbacks if a company is gracious and treats their clients with respect. In other words, if I wasn’t a lifetime fan of Tom Ford (and I was), I certainly am now.

As for specifics, I was most looking forward to seeing how ‘Azure Lime’ opened up during the duration of a day. In the Spring and Summer, I tend to favor citrus scents – especially grapefruit and lime – so ‘Azure’ sounds like the perfect blend of the moment. Later on, I’ll veer into the sweeter side of things, like ‘Black Violet’, and I cannot wait for the next special occasion so I can dab on what might be the most gorgeous fragrance in the world – ‘Neroli Portofino.’ But that is all a few months away, and it might even be too soon for the lime – I’ll see where the heart and nose lead in the next few days. For now I’m saving them for the extravagant moments.

I must give particular thanks to the Tom Ford store in New York, as well as the Neiman Marcus stores in Las Vegas and Washington, DC – all of which were so kind and generous with their Private Blend samples. Classy, refined, and considerate – just as I imagine their namesakes to be.

Being that this is the only kind of shopping I can afford these days, it helps when one has good windows to browse, such as the ones at Copley Place. Above is one of the efforts put forth by Neiman Marcus.

Even better than NM, I’ve found the Louis Vuitton showcases rarely disappoint, and it’s nice to be able to check out the latest bags and clothing without getting the once-twice-thrice over by wary sales associates and store guards.

Yet as fine as Neiman and Louis may be, their window treatments will always pale in comparison to Tiffany’s. I still recall the very first window set that ever made an impression on me, at this very same location many years ago. I was just a kid, and could barely see high enough to take it all in, but I got enough. The diamonds featured were just another almost-hidden aspect to the work of art that each window conveyed – in that case a snowy winter scene rendered with a few key images, and highlighted by the wintry sparkle of the jewels. It was one of my first realizations of beauty. The single spot of light illuminating a tiny jewel, backed by shifting shades of blue – the sky in the morning, the sky at night – branches delicately lined with snow, silhouetted lines of random yet contained chaos – all encapsulated behind a single square pane of glass and buffeted by buffed granite.

As commercial as it may have been, as designed as it no doubt was to subliminally sell me something I could not afford, there was no denying the artistry and gorgeousness of the scenes my young eyes were beholding. I still think of those Tiffany windows – they haunt me with their beauty, their light, their enchantment. It was a bewitching moment – and that’s the feeling and emotion most artists spend a lifetime seeking to conjure. The elusive apple of our eye, opening up skies of wonder, new worlds away…

I may have to brave the bitches at the Boston Barney’s in order to get the cologne I want (and by bitches I mean the salesmen on the 2nd floor). To be fair, there’s at least one decent gentleman among the throng of skinny-jean-clad chicsters, but the rest look at me like I’m about to stuff half the store in my ridiculously small messenger bag.

This is, of course, nothing compared to the way I get looked at in Neiman Marcus, but that’s so over the top they know they’re being ridiculous. I think it’s a game between us at this point, with smiles uncontained on both sides.

Oddly enough, it’s the Sak’s 5th Avenue store in the Prudential Center where I’m treated the best in spite of whatever I happen to be wearing. No matter that I’ve only been able to purchase socks there in the last year (and those at 40 percent off).

It’s the principle of the whole thing that bothers me. I can dress up with the best of them, and walk into any of those stores carrying just as much attitude as I’m given, but why should I have to do that? When I go shopping in a pair of ratty sneakers, baggy shorts, and a comfy T-shirt with a hole or two in it, my American Express card has just as long a line of credit as it does when I’m decked out in an Armani suit, Gucci underwear, and Prada shoes.

I recognize the inherent paradox here. How can someone so seemingly obsessed with fashion and clothing possibly cry foul at judging a person based on appearance and dress? It’s probably because no matter what I’m wearing, I always try to be a decent human being. Underneath it all. And in spite of how much I poke fun at others or ridicule my co-workers for what they wear (you know who you are), I never really form my opinion of anyone based on their clothes.

Everyone suspects himself of at least one of the cardinal virtues, and this is mine: I am one of the few honest people that I have ever known. - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

{”The Madison Fit Pink Three-Button Panama Sport Coat” – doesn’t exactly slide off your tongue, does it?}

For the past few weeks I’ve been on an epic quest to find a pink sport coat for a certain rehearsal dinner coming up. I honestly didn’t think this would be a big deal, but as the days, and then weeks, passed, I was coming up with nothing. Even the internet couldn’t produce a cheap pink suit that I could dolly up and pass off as halfway decent. When last in Boston, I scoured the entire length of Newbury Street – stopping everywhere – Ralph Lauren, Marc Jacobs, Lilly Pulitzer, Ted Baker, Rugby, Zara, Annabelle Jones (okay, that was for an opera coat, which I did find) – and even went off the Newbury path to Saks, Neiman Marcus, Lord & Taylor, Macy’s, and Club freaking Monaco. All to no avail.

A few FaceBook friends suggested Brooks Brothers, which I’d been avoiding because I knew they might have one, but I also knew it would be more than I could afford to spend, rehearsal dinner or not. As is usual in these fashion quests, the heart leads the head, so I gave in and checked out the Brooks Brothers site and found this pink sport coat - all Spring perfection and dream realization coupled with that hefty pricetag I looked at but instantly justified. After bookmarking the page, I decided to try calling the Brooks Brothers’ outlets within a three-hour radius and seeing if they had any pink sport coats before placing the online order.

I started out with the Lee, MA outlet, which suggested I try Manchester, VT (I’d made the trek for Burberry, surely I could cajole Andy into another emergency stop for Brooks Brothers – he would be the one sitting next to me at dinner after all), but Manchester only had them starting at size 40 – Long. They directed me to Lake George, NY (right in my upstate NY backyard, which was news to me) and they had one in a size that would fit with only minor tailoring.

The next day we made the quick trip to Lake George, and I am now the happy owner of a Brooks Brothers Pink Sport Coat (at a hugely discounted price – about 75% off). Yes, we have a rehearsal dinner outfit. Well, except for the shoes. I’m looking for something in pink…

Andy and I spent an enjoyable weekend in Boston finishing up the last of our wedding preparations. We arrived to a city ensconced in a rain and wind storm, to which both of our umbrellas succumbed before the night blew it out of town.

The next morning dawned with the wind, but the sun soon took over, and I plucked this potent Korean spice viburnum blossom, which filled the bedside table with its fragrance.

We took a brief excursion through the Boston Public Garden just before stopping by Shreve, Crump and Low to try on my wedding ring and see if Andy liked one for himself.

Now we have two, and the only thing left to do is get married.

The whole city appears to have blossomed after the rain, and flowering trees lined our every step.

A single white tulip amid a bed of daffodils.

The cherry blossoms were above us wherever we went, in soft shades of pink and white.

The pink jacket I’ve been searching for proved elusive yet again, even in every single store on Newbury Street. From Ralph Lauren to Marc Jabobs to Lilly Pulitzer to Ted Baker to Neiman Marcus and Saks, nowhere was there a pink jacket to be found in the city of Boston. And so dusk fell…

I think a Spring evening in Boston is one my favorite moments in life, and for some reason always puts me in the mind of Gatsby.

At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others – poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner – young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life. – F. Scott Fitzgerald

Andy and I walked through the South End, stopping for a couple of cookies, then made our way back home. The next time we’ll be in Boston will be for our wedding.