Henry IV

This is Henry (Hank), the lovliest, most beautiful, get-in-trouble-ist, semi naughtiest, ladykiller grandson in the world
Git 'em, Hank!

Purple Haze

Hard to believe anyone would live above a bowling alley. Those must have been the "corporate" offices upstairs.
Fremont Bowling, Teen Town, which was more than likely the stepping stone to the Purple Haze.
Too young to enter but not too young to marvel at the 8x10 glossy photos posted outside of the current and upcoming bands coming through town. Seems like I remember Tommy James and the Shondells maybe, maybe not. I'm pretty sure there was some decent regional fare going through but I'd have to ask someone with better recall. I just remember standing there, straddling the center bar (guy bar) of my Schwinn, trying to catch a glimpse of the goings on through the open front door.
Those places where I wasn't allowed were exactly the places I wanted to be. Kind of like Chuck's Barber Shop (where my dad would call in before I got there with hair cut instructions). My family always went across town to the Buitendorp brother's barber shop. But Chuck's is where I wanted to go. He was old school Navy, tats galore. And he'd buzz your scalp with a lit Lucky hanging from the corner of his mouth.
But that wasn't the attraction, hell no, I wanted to grow my hair long. The trade off was Chuck's choice in reading material. I'd happily get a buzz cut with a little patch in front for a quick glimpse of a True Crime or better yet, a Playboy, carefully tucked inside a Field And Stream.
The not so secret secret was out amongst us 13 year olds, the place for pulp was Chuck's.

Nashvintage / Finale / Venus And Mars

I know I inherited this thing for clothes from my dad. He wasn't outwardly fancy, just what I would call classic, impeccably classic actually.
I don't know what they called guys like that back then..., stylish maybe? I'm pretty sure nobody ever called him a clothes whore.
Nobody ever calls me a clothes whore either, to my face anyway. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I just like to think I am. That would be a little embarrassing, to call yourself a clothes whore when really nobody else ever thought that.
And here I am in the clothing business. I have to go into men's clothing stores all the time. It's like a nurse with more than just a passing fancy for morphine.

Venus And Mars was pretty incredible. The woman's end I thought much more so than the men's.
But that might have had more to do with my wife talking me out of everything I picked out for myself. So I ended up rifling through the women's racks right along with her as she was pulling out these stellar, 60s elephant bell, one piece pantsuits (is that redundant?) that were museum quality. They were crazy just to look at.

This has got to be a mecca for motion picture and theatre production, wardrobe and stylists.
And to top it off, Talvin Beville, the store manager working the till, was a gracious and genuine host.
I like it when people like their jobs.

Nashvintage, Tennessee / Part Dos / Katy K's

It's really almost better to arrive at Katy K's alone. For me It's like the New Release section at the video store, I've got to see everything. And if it takes an hour, it takes an hour.
I hadn't been there for a few years and was giddy to start scouring only to discover after 20 minutes that my ride was pounding the horn in the parking lot, ready to shove off. They have no idea how badly I wanted that red t-shirt with the Shirelles on the front, maybe it was the Ronettes, but it was sure cool. Ain't nobody got one of those back home.

I don't want to sound like a comment on a yelp page, but when you're in Nashville, you absolutely must stop at Katy's. It's almost as much of an institution in Nashville as Nashville gets. I'll let her website do the talking.

katyk.com

Nashvintage, Tennessee / Part Uno

Young buck Ian, greeted us, and gave us the nickel tour at Imogene+Willie, the Nashville gas station turned one part denim factory, one part retail store, and one part event space.

You can buy the I+W brand off the table or have them custom made to fit right there on site. Measured, patterns cut, then sewn and detailed... boom, out the door you go. I didn't say it was going to be cheap.
Refurbished boots galore line the shelves. Sprinkled with racks of Ralph Lauren's RRL, APC, bags, belts, blankets and the brands own namesake tees and thermals.

The only items that raised an eyebrow were the old and used, beater pairs of Red Wing boots with $255 price tags. I understand and appreciate the aesthetic, but I think I'll continue to buy mine new and beat 'em up myself because I might get just a few more miles out of them.

Beyond that, all in all, a great store I know I'll come back to.
As for Ian, oddly, we found out he grew up in a town just down the road from us.

Next Up: Katy K's Ranch Dressing / Part Dos

Photo: Thomas Petillo