Generally speaking, I think August is the worst month in New York. As such, I try and get myself out of the city as much as possible in search of a bit of calm before the best month in New York City… September.
More often than not, shelter is found in refuge at my loving mother’s, who still lives in the same town I grew up in, about an hour outside the city.
Being brought up in the bubble of Fairfield County, I would describe my upbringing as a lot of things: fortunate, blessed, a bubble, sure, but I’ve never thought of Fairfield County as “cool.” The hedge fund guys that made the town what it is today certainly have their pros and cons. Many are impressive titans of industry and almost all of them a fun time on a bar stool, no doubt, but having caddied for a good deal of them growing up, I can’t say many of these guys were trendsetters or on the cutting edge of what’s hot.
But this last weekend home, I’m starting to see a change. A change in the stores that line the street, the activities at your disposal, and the people shaping these places…
Thursday
For whatever reason, despite my deep love for the country, as Paul McCartney would call it, it takes the jaws of life to pull me out. One of my tried-and-true ways of getting out is packing a bag, bringing it to a dinner, and catching a train afterwards. It’s kind of time travel.
Pulling into town, I shot an old coworker who’s gone on to become Editor in Chief at InsideHook and moved to the suburbs somewhat simultaneously.
He was at our local watering hole with two other guys in creative industries. I tossed my bag in a bush and headed down for a couple beers. We spoke about production, video, writing, and anything but finance — likely a first for those walls.
His latest piece on “An Italian August” is a must read
Friday
After a 3-mile run to shake off “the ride in” and a few hours of work, I set off to Bedford, New York, to visit the folks over at Rivay with the hopes of scooping up a vintage Italian necklace they had recently gotten in.
St. Christopher, the protector of travelers.
Katie and Jon started Rivay 7 years ago out of John’s trunk, pulling up to places like the Odeon in Tribeca and slinging shirts out of the trunk. Fast forward nearly a decade, and two storefronts later, a brand that could hold its own against any store in New York has landed on a corner lot in Bedford, New York, preferring the country, where they can arrive at the office and showroom in one of their spectacular cars rather than by subway.
Be on the lookout for a potential Outpost x Rivay dinner this fall.
Pulling out of Bedford, I got a text from Jeff Parrott, purveyor of J. Earl & Sons: “Swing by this afternoon.”
Coffee in hand, I popped in for an afternoon chat — where my ADD was tempted by some of the best coffee table books, whiskey bottles, and barware in their collection. We spoke about where social media is going, how we can work together on different things in the fall, and everything in between.
Saturday
Saturday was one of those days filled to the brim but relaxing in the same vein.
A walk to the farmers market with Mom, loading up on all that the local farms have to offer: heirlooms, lettuce, broccolini, onion, garlic, potatoes, juices, bread, coffee, bacon — all ya need.
Loaded up with provisions for the weekend, I went down to the beach club with a bunch of reading to catch up on, notably a copy of the print edition from Michael Williams and David Coggins.
A quick note on the print edition: and are names you likely know. In the off chance you don’t, you should. They are some of the OG guys to write about men’s lifestyle in the many ways you’ve seen it done today, myself included.
Earlier in the year, they launched the print edition, a physical edition of some of the best writers in their quiver. Out of convenience, or perhaps a dash of jealousy, I was trying to wrangle my own beast that is a physical Outpost edition. I never got to reading one until Saturday, when the folks at Rivay gave me one on the house.
Upon turning the last page, I audibly shouted, “BUMMER” every piece is better than the next. I look forward to reading the many variations that come out and perhaps contributing one day or mimicking in some capacity. Greatest form of flattery after all!
Sunday
But back to the schedule. It’s now Sunday. I went for yet another run through the park, made a BLT with 100% of the produce locally sourced from the market, and am gearing up for yet another BBQ with family and friends.
Whether it’s my age and interests changing, or the place I was raised changing alongside me as well, or likely a little bit of both, the relationship with the city and the country continues to evolve.
In the words of John Lennon:
‘Don’t you miss the big time boy, you’re no longer on the ball?’”
Finding a balance between taking a breath outside of New York and moments of stillness in the country is likely the ticket, and I feel very optimistic to be surrounded by other folks with common interests in the place I once called home.
Have a great week folks,
