These were the first words that Sir Charles Whittington-Smythe spoke when we first met over six months ago.  In that time I have grown to understand, not only the man himself, but the world he frequents and the values he stands for. It would be too simple to merely dismiss him as a spoilt 40 year old child, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and all the other stereotypes one could use to pander to the masses with their narrow view of the aristocratic class.

Sir Charles Whittington-Smythe was born at the family home, Marnwood Estate in Bucksfordshire in 1972.  His school days were rather uneventful until the age of 14, when he won a Golden Star at Pingpong College for being able to recite the entire five times table in front of his class.  This not only catapulted him to the top of his year, but confirmed what his parents already knew, that young Charles was more than qualified to take on the huge responsibilty of Marnwood if, god forbid, anything should happen to them.

That fateful day came in the Summer of 1989 when, during a local Croquet Tournament, his parents were killed in a freak accident.  The story of the accident itself is now legendary, with countless books written on the various conspiracy theories that have been put forward over the years.  On a still August afternoon, in baking thirty-two degree heat, a freak gust of wind ejaculated the couple over seventy feet, directly into the path of a combined harvester, chopping them furiously into small, blood-splattered bits of flesh and throwing them a further thirty feet away from the croquet lawn, and certain victory.

Where the wind came from nobody knows. Indeed, not one of the sixty onlookers mentioned wind, of any description, in their police statements. One witness statement reads, ‘The day was still and calm, like someone sleeping soundly under the influence of a morphine derivative’, whilst a second statement claims, ‘I heartily recommend the Pimms followed by a P.G.C., that’s a Pink Gin Chaser darling’.

The truth may never be known, but on that fateful day, a seventeen year old boy became the head of one of the largest private estates in England.

I was first invited to Marnwood Estate in March last year, having been contacted by his PA to ask if I would like to interview him for my column in Stallion & Bichon magazine. When I asked what the topic of the interview may be, I was simply told ‘Ee ‘as a plan to do some big social experiment and the like, to see what it might be to live as a common man, or some such thing’. Not only did the sweet tones of the young lady’s West Country accent intrigue me, so did the thought of interviewing the elusive man himself, regardless of how ridiculous the stunt may have sounded at the time.

What will follow over the coming months, are edited extracts from my interviews with Sir Charles and various members of his household, without whom, he would have been unable to run the vast estate he inherited and win the much coveted ‘Aristocratic Employer of the Year’ award in 2004.

The tenth of the thirteen noble virtues is independence.  Independence is the very essence of freedom which stems from relying on no one other than oneself.

A gentleman, despite his social nature, is independent.  He is social because he wants to be, not because he needs to be, and he does so more for the benefit of others than for himself.  He does not rely on favours or charity.  He is his own source.  He enjoys, on occasion, to be alone to reflect and meditate.

Tip: Avoid accepting favours.  Try to be the source of your own income.  Seek to be able to provide as much for yourself as you can without the help of others.  Obtain skills that enable you to avoid relying on the service of others.  Remember that the less you rely on others the less you owe them in return.

Model: Henry David Thoreau.  Thoreau certainly mastered the virtue of independence.  Thoreau’s time at Walden gave him complete and total freedom, dependent upon no one other than himself.

Us British folk have had an obsession with class and differentiating us from them as long as there has been civilisation upon these islands. I have had many conversations about this subject, including where I class myself on this.
According to the BBC website I am what is classed as an “Emergent Service Worker” which looks like it is below working class on the scale they have provided. Interestingly I class myself as working class, even though I have a degree, because I do not work at a middle class level, I do not act like a middle class person and I do not have the social standing or the wealth of one.

Take the test yourself, and see where you stand on the British Class system. I’d be interested to know your results too.

MMS

I was born in Oxfordshire, England in 1981. My Mother gave birth to me at our family home which has been the seat of my ancestors since the 17th Century. My Fathers family can be traced back even further than this and as he is an Earl, I was born a Lady. I attended University in England and met my future husband who also comes from an aristocratic family. In 2007 we married and in 2010 his Father (also an Earl) sadly passed away which meant we inherited his title and Hertfordshire Estate. Before we go any further, let me apologise for being so vague about the intimacies of my life; It is not my desire to reveal my identity, therefore I cannot present too much detail.

I decided to write this blog as I have noticed the surge in interest from the general public of aristocratic families and the way we live. The phenomenal success of Downton Abbey, further proves my point that the World is very much interested in the lives of the Aristocracy. I also thought it would be rather innovative for me to use the blog as place for me to record the events of my life for personal reasons. My ancestors wrote letters and diaries almost every day which meant that their descendants could uncover details of their lives and give an insight to their past. Unfortunately today hardly anyone writes letters or diaries, instead choosing more up to date methods such as emails and social media platforms. 

Being a Countess means I am able to live a life far different from the average person. To be able to share my experiences with you all is truly exciting. I am a slave to Fashion so this will also be an opportunity to indulge in my passion and share it with the online community.

As time goes by, this blog will most likely venture off course and become something entirely different to what I intended. I hope that it will become a hub of various topics and discussions and a place that people truly find interesting.

Yours,

The Countess x

The ninth of the thirteen noble virtues is dignity.  Dignity is an aura of grace and majesty which sets one out from all others.  It is one of the most important of the noble virtues.

Dignity is a blend of several qualities which, when combined properly, give an air of regality and create a larger-than-life man.  Without dignity a man has nothing.  The gentleman is proud and strong in his sense of self-worth.  He carries himself with bearing and grace.  He is majestic.  He understands when to be serious and when to be formal.  His every move is seemless and smooth.  He gives the impression that he is perfect without trying.

Tip: Hide your flaws well.  Make everything seem effortless.  Sit and walk with back straight and head high.  Imagine yourself a king, showing the persona of royal majesty.  Speak smoothly and move gracefully.  Treat yourself as a masterpiece; every movement is a performance.  Work hard to be seemless, but never let on that you are breaking a sweat.

Model: Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom.  Queen Victoria reigned from 1837 to 1901.  She was a model of the grace and dignity her office requires.  She was a strong-willed, elegant woman.  She embodied self-discipline and bearing.  She was a grand lady with a powerful aura.  She had an air of authority which could be felt by all in her presence.

After thanking her friend for her family’s past hospitality, Evelina writes “London now seems no longer the same place where I lately enjoyed so much happiness; everything is new and strange to me; even the town itself has not the same aspect…” (Burney 288). Her move, like her initial move from Howard Grove to London, thus produces an alienation that is both physical and social. The shock of the move is only highlighted by her apparent fully-developed sentimental attachment to West London – something particularly striking considering her initial disillusionment with the city just months earlier (“the houses and streets are not quite so superb as I expected”(116)), and her conspicuous struggles to adapt to the urban milieu. After this second move, the disillusionment is intensified by contrasting Holborn to the aristocratic, retail atmosphere of the West:

Indeed to me, London now seems a desart; that gay and busy appearance it so lately wore, is now succeeded by a look of gloom, fatigue, and lassitude; the air seems stagnant, the heat is intense, the dust intolerable, and the inhabitants illiterate and under-bred. At least, such is the face of things in the part of town where I at present reside. (288)

Unlike with the first move, this form of disillusionment is inseparable from Evelina’s descent in socioeconomic prestige. She has grown to internalize the aristocratic values of Westminster, and thus articulates her alienation in negative terms – its population is neither “literate” nor “well-bred”, and the atmosphere is devoid of leisure opportunities. Whereas Westminster is a space of leisure and consumption, Holborn is associated with economic production and capitalization. In Evelina, these two economic poles are respectively typified by spendthrift aristocratic characters like Lovel, and the obsessively frugal Mr. Branghton, whose family lives above his own artisanal shop.

In the above passage, her figuring of Holborn as a “desart” is especially notable, as it suggests a culture gap that borders on the anthropological. While Burney’s extensive use of semicolons makes the syntax difficult to follow precisely, the inclusion of “illiterate and under-bred inhabitants” alongside other desert-evoking descriptions (“stagnant air”, “intense heat”, “intolerable dust”) suggest the inhabitants are part of the over-arching geographical analogy. In this way, Evelina manages to frame the aspiring middling classes, artisans, and merchants of Holborn as non-British “others”. This is only supported by her later description of Lord Orville as belonging to a separate “race and nature as those with whom I at present converse” (288).

Finally, this letter manifests a pattern in Evelina’s thought that dominates the first half of the novel – she constantly frames Lord Orville as benevolent force existing outside of socioeconomic typologies. Here, Orville not only the possesses “high-bred delicacy” and “elegant politeness” that mark aristocracy, but he possesses them to a degree that they “distinguish him above all other men” (288). Rather than serving as a comic stand-in for a depraved aristocratic value system, (as do such characters as Lovel, Merton, and Willoughby), Orville transcends the structure entirely, becoming, in Evelina’s words “an object of ideal perfection” (288).

Works Cited

Burney, Frances. Evelina. Ed. Susan Kubica Howard. Peterborough: Broadview, 2000. Print.

1. I want to be invited to the Festival de Cannes.

Not as a guest. I want an invitation. I don’t care what it’s for, I just want to put on a tuxedo, walk the red carpet, ask Tilda Swinton who does her hair (I want every hairstyle she has ever had on my head right now), drink too much champagne, dance at an after party and applaud some artsy film. I think it would be a fantastic time. I’ve been to Cannes. I’ve seen the festival complex, sadly not during the festival, though.

2. Attend a party at Highclere Castle.

I’ve known about this castle long before you all started watching Downton Abbey. I’ve tried several times, but I’ve never been able to get into it. Don’t know why, I love everything British. Anyway, this castle is where Lord Carnarvon called home. He is the man who funded the archaeological digging that unearthed the tomb of Tutankhamen. All my life (and surely several lives before this one), I have been obsessed with ancient Egypt. I would love nothing more than to attend a function there and explore the collection of Egyptian treasures. I’m getting excited at the thought!

3. I want to be best friends with Martha Stewart.

I love this woman. I can’t get enough of her. I feel like we’re soul mates–in a friendly sense, mind you. We would be best friends if I could just meet her. We’re both Leos, we’re both snakes, we both look good with blonde hair, we’re intuitively creative, we love animals, baking is a delight for the both of us, we appreciate good architecture, we both enjoy having friends in high places, we think there’s nothing better than a good espresso–well a cappuccino for her, we both live on farms and have an obsession with the color grey. I can’t even begin to think of all the fun we would have together if life were different.

4. I want an apartment in Paris.

[I took this picture on my first trip to Paris and it's always been one of my favorites. I always go back to it and sigh with a smile.]

Paris will always be home to me. I wasn’t born there, I haven’t spent the majority of my life there, but I have spent what, in my memory are, the best times of my life in that ancient city. As hard as I try, I am really not very American. I’m very European in my thoughts and mannerisms and I just like it there better. Not that I don’t love America, or anything, I just have my preferences. (When I run for President, make sure you, my dear staffer, deletes that line.) I can’t think of anything better than waking up to the noise of Paris and the sunshine streaming through the old glass windows. I’d wake up, put on some nice clothes like all the men do, and head down to the bakery where I’d chat with the worker before getting my poppy seed baguette and lemon tart and probably a croissant. I don’t diet in Paris, there’s no need, you walk so much you become instantly skinny. That’s the secret, you know? Just walk. We don’t walk enough in America. We drive two blocks if we can. I’d go to whatever job I had and wouldn’t be too bothered because the work week is only thirty-five hours and the health care is basically free and I could hop on a train to Nice if I wanted without totally depleting my wallet. I’d want an apartment in an old building with lots of windows and herringbone floors and a wrought iron balcony. It needn’t be huge. A one-bedroom will suit me down to the ground. I need to work on this. I love Paris so much.

5. I want to be an underwear model.

Not kidding even a little bit. I can’t think of anything that would be more fun than seeing myself in magazines or on a billboard wearing underwear. Mainly because it’s rather ridiculous. I used to be a fat, ugly person. I like transformations. Kind of like in Princess Diaries where Mia goes from nerd to attractive. I think it’s important to be pretty. Like I said in a past life when I was Oscar Wilde, I said, “It is better to be beautiful than to be good, but it is better to be good than to be ugly.” Preach. I was only kind of kidding about the past life thing. Anyway, moving on. I like looking nice and take considerable pride in my appearance, mainly because I used to be disgusting. So, I think that if I were to be an underwear model, that would be the epitome of the changes I started years ago. Abs are very philosophical subjects, you know?

That model up there is Miley Cyrus’ old boy toy, Justin Gaston. I picked his photo because I think that his body is very much what mine will look like when I finish with it. I need bigger arms, of course, and that’s something that I need to start working on, but his abs and chest seem attainable to me. So, I’m going to be looking at some more of him for inspiration and because why not?

I didn’t do a super job this week, but I’m a human and I need to eat and nap. Eating right and exercise is so tedious. As a vegetarian, though, it’s not awfully hard to eat good things and I’ve become so conscious of what I eat that I never let myself indulge too much. Except for Friday–too many margaritas and these delightful blood orange lemonade things. Let’s not think about that. I exercised like a maniac yesterday, though, and cut a few pounds–probably just water, but the number still made me happy. I want to get my body fat percentage calculated as I don’t believe my scale. It said 9.9% this morning…but I dunno. I also want to get a nicer tan. If I don’t indulge in some bad habit, I’ll live forever, and that will be beyond exhausting. Oh, and I made these:

I even went to my little photo studio today to take the picture, so it’s like the first professional looking one I’ve done so far in this series. I had lighting and loud music and a backdrop and a real camera and a tripod. It was basically getting ready for Vogue. I’ve been reading Grace Coddington’s memoir (love her!) and am realizing that I need to get into the fashion world somehow. It seems to be where I belong. In fashion and in Paris. Could life be that wonderful?

Let’s get some music:

I’m kind of shy this week. Oh well, YOLO!

Call me, Andrew Christian.

With that being said if you love Downton Abbey you will love the reality docs below.   Enjoy!  

Sorry, but episode 1 is missing.

Click where it says “playlist” on the video to begin the series at episode 2.

Life on a Farm series.

1. Anna Gavalda

Q: Where can you find a living, breathing counter-Revolutionary from the Vendée today?
A: In Anna Gavalda’s novel, Ensemble, c’est tout.
His name is Philbert Jehan Louis-Marie Georges Marquet de la Durbellière ; he was born in 1967 in La Roche-sur-Yon, and as a child, he fought off bullies by swinging a satchel armed with a Latin dictionary.

Gavalda must have had a good time inventing his quaint speech patterns for this book! When he finally gets over his stuttering enough to introduce himself to the down-on-her-luck heroine, he explains: “Vous avez devant les yeux un magnifique exemplaire d’Homo Dégénéraris, c’est-à-dire un être totalement inapte à la vie en société, décalé, saugrenu et parfaitement anachronique!” (163). It is thanks to his family’s cavernous apartment on avenue Émile Deschanel (one of the capital’s most prestigious addresses, bordering the Champs de Mars, Paris 7e), that the group of oddballs joins forces in this delightful saga of three misfits who find each other and, against all the odds, form a lasting, loving, “recomposed family.”

Philibert is a caricature of hilariously outmoded habits. When the trio writes up a list of rules for the household, he pulls out a signet and stick of wax, and seals the document with his family’s arms. He is hopelessly incapable of battling it out in the rough-and-tumble capitalism of the twenty-first century, and makes a paltry living by selling postcards of Paris monuments on the street. The history lessons he conducts on their road trips are peppered with deadpan asides on his family’s ties to the French throne (Marguerite de Valois being one of his mom’s cousins). The rest of the Marquet de la Durbellière clan is equally ridiculous; the dead fauna hanging on their walls brings images of The Adams Family to mind, but it is a cold, dusty kind of Gothic here without a touch of humor or gore. Their outdated speech habits (le vouvoiement oblige) and austere home life underline the aristocracy’s inability to evolve, as does their soul-less Catholicism. (The Easter blessing of “Bénissez-nous Seigneur… et bla bla bla” being symptomatic! 545) The author stresses their impervious blindness to economic realities at a boorish banquet at which the marquis and his wife lord it over their son’s friends while serving tasteless canned peas on dishes of priceless china, accompanied by elegant crystal glasses of cheap wine. Baffled by the presence of these lowbrow strangers, the marquise trills, “Comme c’est pittoresque” (541), as if her son was indulging in a bit of Belle époque encanaillement (hobnobbing with the rabble).

The weekend would have been ruined, if Franck (the foul-mouthed, talented cook who is Philou’s best friend from Paris) hadn’t taken charge of the kitchen and whipped up a fabulous Easter dinner, inciting the marquis to share some exquisite bottles of his uncle’s wine, and to get a little drunk and tell funny old stories of his hunting days. On the return trip to Paris, Philou suddenly recalls the reason why he had wanted to visit home: his engagement to a girl from the working-class neighborhood of Belleville, and which he forgot to mention. Significantly, they do not turn the car around. Nor do any members of the Marquet de la Durbellière tribe attend the sweet nuptials, celebrated in the Town Hall of the 20th arrondissement.

2. Albin de la Simone
A similar melancholy about the emptiness of the aristocracy haunts a song that is popular among French youth today, by Albin de la Simone, “Mes épaules.” Ostensibly a love ballad by a young father to his wife and baby, where anxiety over the role of breadwinner is symbolized by his skinny shoulders (“pas bien baraquées,” he swoons), the song also belies the singer’s unease with his particule-laden family name. “Le poids de mon nom ridicule / De ce fantôme à particule / Qui avance quand je recule,” the song goes. Typifying a particularly French strain of wimpy male singers whose penchant for self-pity surprises American audiences (remember Alain Souchon’s hit “Allô Papa Maman”?!), Albin de la Simone is nevertheless a favorite among young Frenchmen today, according to reliable sources in Paris. What is interesting is how he combines his worries over fatherhood with his sense of embarrassment over his aristocratic name.

Could it be that France is finally breaking free from the class-bound system of the past? Is Bourdieu’s paradigm in Distinction really due for a tune-up?

Or are these recent phenomena merely a pose, like the long tradition of rueful yet self-congratulatory writers who make up the French canon?

The eighth of the thirteen noble virtues is well-roundedness.  Well-roundedness is the possession of knowledge and skill in a variety of fields and topics.  The gentleman is a Renaissance man; a jack-of-all-trades.

Being well-rounded makes a gentleman easier to relate to.  It gives him more topics in his conversation arsenal and it prevents him from being one-upped by the next fellow.  A well-rounded gentleman functions well in any situation because he has a background in everything.  He knows how to do a wide range of tasks which many cannot do, making him more efficient.  He always appears wise in conversation and can relate to anything.  His opinions are well-informed and he is never dull.

Tip: Like with intellect, start with the basics of several different topics, ranging from opposite ends of a spectrum.  The wider the variety the better.

Model: Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci.  Perhaps the most noteworthy Renaissance man of all time, da Vinci is famous firstly for his paintings.  A curious man who yearned constantly for knowledge, da Vinci worked not only as a painter and sculptor, but also as an architect, engineer, musician, scientist, mathematician, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, writer, and botanist.  Da Vinci made numerous discoveries and created several concepts far before their time.  Unpublished, these concepts and discoveries would be drawn from other sources far later in history.

The seventh of the thirteen noble virtues is intellect. Intellect is the possession of greater-than-adequate knowledge and the function and use of logic. The gentleman values knowledge and learning for the sake of knowing.

The gentleman yearns to know as much of the world as he can, and so he pursues knowledge passionately. The gentleman is a scholar. He is well versed in poetry and fine literature as well as philosophy. He is familiar with the sciences and history.

Tip: Start at the beginning. Learn the basics of everything. Everything. From there focus on topics that interest you in each field and learn more about these things. Learn especially Shakespeare and classical philosophy.

Model: Aristotle. Aristotle, the great learned philosopher of ancient Greece was a pupil of Plato and the tutor of Alexander the Great. His thirst for knowledge led him to great heights. He became and expert in biology, zoology, physics, metaphysics, logic, rhetoric, ethics, linguistics, politics, poetry, theatre, and music. His philosophies continue to have a profound influence on Christian theology to-day.

by L. R. Capuana

Hierarchy of Status
Feudalism was wiped away by the effects and consequences of the Black Death at the end of the Dark Ages, nevertheless, Renaissance England had still a strict hierarchy of status that saw the monarch at its very top followed by the aristocracy.

The Family of Henry VIII

Aristocracy
The nobles had extensive wealth based mainly on the ownership of land. They lived in luxury and had many servants, but, at the same time, it was their duty, in Renaissance England, to serve the state at their own expenses. They were ambassadors, generals and sat in the Upper House of Lords in Parliament. They were also hosts to their sovereign and patrons of the arts, meaning that, they supported in their households, poets, musicians and artists.

The Family of Sir Thomas More

The Knights
Below the nobility there were the knights, gentlemen who were appointed knights by the monarch or someone delegated by the sovereign, as a general for instance, for their extraordinary deeds in battle or for other important services done for the country or the crown.

Gentlemen
Next in line were the gentlemen, well born individuals who had enough land to save them from working to make a living, they had to possess a general education law, ethics and history, for they were to take part in public offices as magistrates, thus administering justice, or as members of the House of Commons representing their fellow neighbours.

Social Mobility
Yeomen, farmers and merchants who set up coal, iron or cloth industries eventually became landowners and could be assigned a coat of arms or obtain the status of gentlemen, so, despite the hierarchy a social mobility was, in fact, possible in Renaissance England.

The Poor
At the very base of the social order there were the poor whose living conditions became drastically worse when sheep farming became prevalent depriving them of employment in the fields. In 1601 Parliament passed the “Poor Laws” which outlawed begging and unemployed homeless who were found outside their villages were imprisoned.

The Family
As far as family life was concerned, during the Renaissance in England, men were heads of the family to whom all components owed obedience. Women had almost no rights and their husbands held all legal rights on their goods and money which were assigned to them upon marriage as dowries. Furthermore, an incredible number of women died in childbirth as they usually had from eight to fifteen children since child mortality was also very high. As for childhood, it didn’t last very long because, either rich or poor, a child was soon to take part in life carrying out adult tasks and taking on adult roles.

Bibliography
M. Spiazzi, M. Tavella Only Connect, New Directions, Zanichelli 2010
K. O. Morgan, The Illustrated History of Britain, Oxford University Press, Oxford-New York, 1984

Links:

http://www.britannica.com

http://www.encyclopedia.com/topic/Renaissance.aspx

Images taken:

http://www.english.upenn.edu/~bushnell/english30/materials/new_family/capell_fam_640x-g4.jpeg

The sixth of the thirteen noble virtues is piety. Piety is the devout fulfilment of religious obligations out of a love for God. It is not only the state of belonging to an organised religion, but rather a genuine desire to come closer to God through that faith.

A gentleman is pious without being self-righteous or sanctimonious. He is genuine in his devotion to God and the Church. He strives to live according to God’s will and repents his shortcomings. To the gentleman, religion only on Sundays is not enough. It is a crucial part of his life, a staple of his culture.

Tips: Know the tenets of the church and follow them. Religion is more than just something to say one belongs to; it is something to be practiced. To be a Christian in name only is hardly any better than to not be a Christian at all.

Model: Sir Thomas More. Lord Chancellor of England, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and Speaker of the House of Commons, Sir Thomas More was a great statesman and family man. He was a learned gentleman and he quickly rose to success under King Henry VIII, with whom he became quite close. When Henry wanted to divorce his wife and break with the Church of Rome, Sir Thomas held fast to his faith, clinging to the Cross. His faith cost him his life, which he gave up willingly. Sir Thomas More is venerated as a saint in the Roman Catholic and Anglican faiths.

Say it into our reality realm.

Put in effort to place them at our feet.

If you put down the right and pick the left.

We can flush their royal houses away.

Once you put them down, you can speak the truth.

We will be captivated by your voice.

Yet no one has put it down like we want.

Playing with our hearts, knowing of the queen.

All of her money, she eats her cake, too.

It had better be stopped. Place her in check.

The fire in the water burns our souls.

A useful igniter for the movement.

We’ll steal your women, make the babies hate.

Dance at the court, mocking aristocrats.

Telling us we will always be below.

The pride of the imperial rulers.

Their friends scowl and grimace at our fraud.

They volunteer to be put down as well.

Carry them out, escort them to the back.

Let them tell their daughters they will return.

Liars born in cradles, carried to graves.

The morning soreness will be worth the pain.

Maintain your image. You’re larger than life.

Deprive the thieves of their stolen purses.

The fifth of the thirteen noble virtues is timelessness. Timelessness is when one masters the ability to transcend time in dress, speech, and mannerisms.

The gentleman is one who does not go in for fads. The gentleman sticks to styles that have been passed down for generations and will likely be fashionable in the future. Don’t be trendy; trends change too quickly to keep up.

Tips: The consumerist world we live in to-day is constantly changing its fashions. Trends are not permanent. Don’t invest in them, but rather avoid them. Try to recall what your grandfather wore. Could you still wear it to-day without looking like a fool? Then chances are your grandchildren will be able to wear it later on down the road too. Stick to fashions that don’t change and your sense of style will transcend time.

Model: Fred Astaire. Fred Astaire was and is a fashion icon. Astaire favoured the tailors of Savile Row. He knew how to dress traditionally and wore well-fitted suits. What set Astaire apart was his ability to be both timeless and progressive in fashion. He kept it classic, avoiding trends.

I remember back to what Howard Zinn wrote in 1999 in the Chapter titled The Coming Revolt of the Guards of A People’s History of the United States. He said: “All these histories of this country centered on the Founding Fathers and the Presidents weigh oppressively on the capacity of the ordinary citizen to act. They suggest that in times of crisis we must look to someone to save us…The idea of saviors has been built into the entire culture.” This comes to mind because in a sense Democratic City Council member Mary Pat Clarke has been perceived as a savior of homeless after getting Camp 83 residents temporary housing. There is some truth to that, I acknowledge her role of organizing to get them housing. However, this doesn’t show who she works for. As the chapter from The Baltimore Book said, “Baltimore’s downtown skyline says that a financial aristocracy is alive and well. As you look down on the city from Federal Hill, banks and financial institutions tower over everything else, proclaiming in glass, brick, and concrete that they hold the reins of power.”

Looking at the Maryland Campaign Reporting Information System I found out much about Mary Pat Clarke by finding her campaign committee (Friends of Mary Pat Clarke). Through the years while receiving money from numerous trade unions, she all got dough from the Greater Baltimore Board of Realtors PAC, the Property Owners Association of Greater Baltimore PAC, Circa Capital, small amounts of interest from Bank of America, the CHM Community Corporation, Allied Contractors, Inc., Seawall Development Company, Ridgemede / Ridgewood Condominiums, and a bunch of individual contributors. However, most of these contributions were from 2007, so they may not effect her as much now. As a result she may be less tied to business interests than someone like Stephanie Rawlings-Blake or others on the city council. I’ll look into all the members and give a wide assessment later on how they are connected or not connected to business interests.

While Mary Pat Clarke may not be tied to business interests now, she should not be construed as a savior of the homeless. In addition, she seems to also be part of the Democratic party machine in Baltimore City. That is all.

“For we are..
             Will always BE
The bravest and the best
             The fleet of IPG!*”            [*Interplanetary Government]

Arm in arm, Elanna and her fellow celebrants, Dann, Kait, Arthur and Mitch roared out the old wartime song as they careened down the street of Old Mars city looking for  anywhere else that was still open.  Kait was inexpertly strumming a ukelele they’d picked up somewhere.  Elanna was clutching a novelty size champagne bottle and wearing a cowboy hat, and Dann was wearing a traffic cone and little else.

The spacefleet, she thought happily, as Arthur nearly walked into a car-charging point, didn’t know what was about to hit them.

—

As hungover as she was, Elanna’s well-disciplined body pulled her out of bed at 7.45 the next day.  Feeling moderately better after spending two extra credits luxuriating in the shower, she checked her messages.  Both her brothers, who’d been on duty when she’d got the news, had sent congratulations – Emmett’s sober and a little pompous, Andrew’s with a rude – and extremely loud – video clip attached.  They noise and the fact that she actually laughed uncontrollably for a few seconds did nothing for Elanna’s headache.

The next message was from her father.  And it was the last thing in the universe that she was expecting,

When his image had finished speaking and flickered off, Elanna sat on the bed and stared, brow furrowed, at the blank secreen.  Then, with six years of practised ease, she efficiently packed a flight bag and strode out of the door.  She wasn’t going to call him back: there had clearly been a major misunderstanding and it needed to be cleared up, immediately, in person, once and for all.

—

“The Admiral is not receiving visitors today,” said and impassive voice from an equally impassive face on the door screen.

“Look at my actual face and try that again,” growled Elanna.

“Miss – Miss Elanna!” said the butler, and door buzzed and clicked open at once.  “I beg your pardon – …”

“That’s Captain,” she said crisply, and walked into her family’s estate.

It was incredible, really it was.  She knew her father was old-fashioned – the current surroundings, strewn with war memorabilia, were clues to that – and eccentric… She’d put up with such “eccentricities” as favouring her brothers in the order of inheritance – her young brothers – but this! She’d thought the argument had been won when she’d been allowed to enlist and enrol at the academy in the first place.  But no, that was not the extent – apparently she was now supposed to give up her command and extend the dynasty through marriage.  Well.  Now there was an idea more preposterous than Andrew’s congratulations card, or any of last night’s antics.

quatorze juillet

The boss bought me lunch–beef and broccoli,

Chinese food from YAN’S done properly…

A hunger fixer-upper,

There’s enough left for supper—

A feed on the par with aristocracy!

–Jonathan Caswell