-
The Fedora Lounge is supported in part by commission earning affiliate links sitewide. Please support us by using them. You may learn more here.
Stylemaster in Acorn Fawn
- Thread starter NonEntity
- Start date
AlterEgo
A-List Customer
- Messages
- 319
- Location
- Southern USA
Stylemaster: Then & Now
I received my Acorn Fawn Stylemaster exactly 365 days ago and thought it might be interesting to compare my first impressions of it with how I regard the hat one year later.
Part 1 of 3
I purchased the Stylemaster from Everything Australian, and though I am known throughout the Milky Way as a picky SOB, I found EA and Sam Menche a delight to deal with from start to finish. Coming from me, that’s really saying something.
He locked in the price on the day I ordered it, rather than the day it shipped, which saved me bucks because the Aussie dollar was gaining on US currency at the time. As a result, I paid a laughingly low US $66 and change, including shipping to Dixieland all the way from Kanga-Land.
EA did not have my size in stock, so there was a wait from Akubra. Despite that delay, I got the hat 23 days after I ordered it—longest 23 days in my entire life—you know the angst. However, Sam kept my knuckle cracking to a minimum by keeping me informed of my order status all the way. He even included a personalized letter to me with the hat. Threw in a couple felt pads, too, gratis, as I’m one of those ‘tween-sizes chaps.
Salivating, I sliced the box open to savor my succulent Stylemaster, but I must say, it was a major letdown. It was like a beautiful celebrity you’ve adored from afar, only to find out when you finally meet her that she’s not quite as great as you thought. Anyway, enough about Michelle Pfeiffer; back to the newly-arrived Stylemaster:
First off, the hat was incredibly stiff. I’ve had Akubras since I was a lad, but I’d never encountered one so cardboard-like. Bummer.
In addition, the color of the thread tacking the hatband to the crown was several shades lighter than the band, making the stitching especially salient. Grrrr.
Last and worse, when I put the hat on, my nose was not in alignment with the pinch. The places on the side of the brim where it snaps down were not in symmetry with my head, either. Upon further investigation, I realized that the whole hat was cocked a good inch to the right of my face’s centerline.
In accordance with the Seventh Law of Hats, one’s newest should, by definition, immediately become the favorite, right? Not so, this Stylemaster.
Nevertheless, I wore it out into public the following afternoon. It was a bright, bone-chilling day, and my girl cousin had invited me and my mom to a pre-Christmas brunch at this super-swanky restaurant. So, over a shirt and tie and v-neck cashmere sweater, I donned a thick wool glen-plaid suit weather rarely allows me to wear here in the South. I pulled on my trench, slung a cashmere scarf jauntily about the neck, stuck the Stylemaster atop my noggin, and out I went into the bitter cold.
This was the first time I’d been to this restaurant, and so I didn’t know it was valet parking only. I hate valet parking. I worked at a restaurant in college that had valet parking and know first hand how carhops drive a speedy ride like mine. Moreover, why would any reasonable and sober man willingly hand over his keys to a complete stranger? But, since my elderly mother was with me, I figured she would not exactly enjoy the six-block stroll back from the nearest self-park lot in 12-degree temps and a 20-mile-an-hour wind.
So, I bit the ******.
The fresh-faced young valet was eyeing the 160-mph speedo, so I made sure he saw me extract my 9-mm and spare mag out of the console. As I handed him the valet key—first time I ever used that—I held on to it for a moment and, doing my best Bogart, looked him straight in the eye and said, “Don’t even think about it, kid.”
“Oh, no sir, no sir, I’ll take real good care of her, real good care of her,” he stammered.
“Let’s leave my mother out of this, son, but be gentle with the wheels. Understood?” I said, much to my own amusement.
“Right, right, no problem. You da man,” and a few moments later as I helped my mom out of the passenger side, “Hey, that’s a really nice hat!” he shouted over the howling cold wind.
Sycophant, I thought to myself. He’s just trying to butter me up for a big tip later. Yet, it would go down as my cockeyed hat’s first compliment.
Inside the restaurant foyer, we rendezvoused with my cuz and her current husband (number 4 or 5--I’ve lost count), both of whom gushed over the Stylemaster. Then my mother chimed in that she thought it was “very smart,” an interesting choice of words. I made absolutely nothing of these compliments, as my family is steeped in the Southern tradition of making saccharine comments though they may actually think the complete opposite.
Accordingly, I responded in kind, “This old thing? Why, thank you.”
The next order of business was the hat/coat check. I know the drill, but, once again, I was hesitant to relinquish personal items to total strangers, especially considering that my mom’s full-length Russian sable coat alone was probably worth more than my car.
However, I bit the ****** again (I was expending ammo pretty fast; good thing I had that spare clip—ha!) and got with the program. As I took the ticket from the maitre d’, he carefully handled the Stylemaster and said, “Sir, this is the best-looking hat I’ve ever seen, and I see many here. May I be so bold as to inquire where you got this fine fedora?”
I told him, but figured it was another brown-nose comment uttered purely in hopes of getting a hefty gratuity when we left.
Well, the food and service were outstanding. The table conversation—not so much. Thank the good Lord for champagne.
When it was time to leave and get our coats and hats, the maitre d’ appeared genuinely surprised when I tipped him a fiver. Same with the valet. Both thanked me profusely. Significantly, AFTER the money changed hands, each had yet another very favorable comment about the Stylemaster, words which sounded a lot more sincere now. Hmmmm, perhaps these guys were not crowing ****, after all.
(Continued)
I received my Acorn Fawn Stylemaster exactly 365 days ago and thought it might be interesting to compare my first impressions of it with how I regard the hat one year later.
Part 1 of 3
I purchased the Stylemaster from Everything Australian, and though I am known throughout the Milky Way as a picky SOB, I found EA and Sam Menche a delight to deal with from start to finish. Coming from me, that’s really saying something.
He locked in the price on the day I ordered it, rather than the day it shipped, which saved me bucks because the Aussie dollar was gaining on US currency at the time. As a result, I paid a laughingly low US $66 and change, including shipping to Dixieland all the way from Kanga-Land.
EA did not have my size in stock, so there was a wait from Akubra. Despite that delay, I got the hat 23 days after I ordered it—longest 23 days in my entire life—you know the angst. However, Sam kept my knuckle cracking to a minimum by keeping me informed of my order status all the way. He even included a personalized letter to me with the hat. Threw in a couple felt pads, too, gratis, as I’m one of those ‘tween-sizes chaps.
Salivating, I sliced the box open to savor my succulent Stylemaster, but I must say, it was a major letdown. It was like a beautiful celebrity you’ve adored from afar, only to find out when you finally meet her that she’s not quite as great as you thought. Anyway, enough about Michelle Pfeiffer; back to the newly-arrived Stylemaster:
First off, the hat was incredibly stiff. I’ve had Akubras since I was a lad, but I’d never encountered one so cardboard-like. Bummer.
In addition, the color of the thread tacking the hatband to the crown was several shades lighter than the band, making the stitching especially salient. Grrrr.
Last and worse, when I put the hat on, my nose was not in alignment with the pinch. The places on the side of the brim where it snaps down were not in symmetry with my head, either. Upon further investigation, I realized that the whole hat was cocked a good inch to the right of my face’s centerline.
In accordance with the Seventh Law of Hats, one’s newest should, by definition, immediately become the favorite, right? Not so, this Stylemaster.
Nevertheless, I wore it out into public the following afternoon. It was a bright, bone-chilling day, and my girl cousin had invited me and my mom to a pre-Christmas brunch at this super-swanky restaurant. So, over a shirt and tie and v-neck cashmere sweater, I donned a thick wool glen-plaid suit weather rarely allows me to wear here in the South. I pulled on my trench, slung a cashmere scarf jauntily about the neck, stuck the Stylemaster atop my noggin, and out I went into the bitter cold.
This was the first time I’d been to this restaurant, and so I didn’t know it was valet parking only. I hate valet parking. I worked at a restaurant in college that had valet parking and know first hand how carhops drive a speedy ride like mine. Moreover, why would any reasonable and sober man willingly hand over his keys to a complete stranger? But, since my elderly mother was with me, I figured she would not exactly enjoy the six-block stroll back from the nearest self-park lot in 12-degree temps and a 20-mile-an-hour wind.
So, I bit the ******.
The fresh-faced young valet was eyeing the 160-mph speedo, so I made sure he saw me extract my 9-mm and spare mag out of the console. As I handed him the valet key—first time I ever used that—I held on to it for a moment and, doing my best Bogart, looked him straight in the eye and said, “Don’t even think about it, kid.”
“Oh, no sir, no sir, I’ll take real good care of her, real good care of her,” he stammered.
“Let’s leave my mother out of this, son, but be gentle with the wheels. Understood?” I said, much to my own amusement.
“Right, right, no problem. You da man,” and a few moments later as I helped my mom out of the passenger side, “Hey, that’s a really nice hat!” he shouted over the howling cold wind.
Sycophant, I thought to myself. He’s just trying to butter me up for a big tip later. Yet, it would go down as my cockeyed hat’s first compliment.
Inside the restaurant foyer, we rendezvoused with my cuz and her current husband (number 4 or 5--I’ve lost count), both of whom gushed over the Stylemaster. Then my mother chimed in that she thought it was “very smart,” an interesting choice of words. I made absolutely nothing of these compliments, as my family is steeped in the Southern tradition of making saccharine comments though they may actually think the complete opposite.
Accordingly, I responded in kind, “This old thing? Why, thank you.”
The next order of business was the hat/coat check. I know the drill, but, once again, I was hesitant to relinquish personal items to total strangers, especially considering that my mom’s full-length Russian sable coat alone was probably worth more than my car.
However, I bit the ****** again (I was expending ammo pretty fast; good thing I had that spare clip—ha!) and got with the program. As I took the ticket from the maitre d’, he carefully handled the Stylemaster and said, “Sir, this is the best-looking hat I’ve ever seen, and I see many here. May I be so bold as to inquire where you got this fine fedora?”
I told him, but figured it was another brown-nose comment uttered purely in hopes of getting a hefty gratuity when we left.
Well, the food and service were outstanding. The table conversation—not so much. Thank the good Lord for champagne.
When it was time to leave and get our coats and hats, the maitre d’ appeared genuinely surprised when I tipped him a fiver. Same with the valet. Both thanked me profusely. Significantly, AFTER the money changed hands, each had yet another very favorable comment about the Stylemaster, words which sounded a lot more sincere now. Hmmmm, perhaps these guys were not crowing ****, after all.
(Continued)
AlterEgo
A-List Customer
- Messages
- 319
- Location
- Southern USA
Part 2 of 3
I was out a good bit shopping and so forth between then and Christmas, “dating,” if you will, my new fedora in an attempt to “make it mine.” Everywhere I went—the mall, gas station, cleaners, shoe shop, *****house (only kidding, y’all—just making sure you’re still paying attention), people’s eyes were riveted to the hat on my head. Often, they’d go out of their way to compliment it.
Now, I’ve been wearing hats since I was a kid—some of them pretty darn nice ones—and the sum total of all compliments I‘ve received on them did not add up to the positive feedback I got on my Stylemaster in a mere ten days.
Being an extroverted, gregarious guy, I began wearing this hat almost exclusively because it was such a perfect door opener to meeting folks and carrying on lively conversation. I’m an independent business consultant, and the many networking opportunities the Stylemaster spawned segued into several lucrative contracts. I’ve also made new friends, including those in the lovely-lady category, whom I would have never come to know otherwise.
OK, back to those first negatives I mentioned at the beginning of this epic tale:
Wearing it so much in all kinds of weather gradually loosened up the cardboard-like felt, but the hat was still overly stiff. Yet, a dramatic change occurred when I had to repair my weed-whacker last spring. Normally, I would have worn a beater hat for such work, but no, I kept the Stylemaster on, as it had by then become a semi-permanent head fixture I did everything but sleep in.
So, when I took it off before bed, I literally gasped when I saw a perfect circle of ***ky brown grease, exactly the same size as the Ryobi shaft diameter, heaped up right on the front of the crown between the side dents! And, no, the stain was not on center, further contributing to the hat’s asymmetry, and ruling out placing some sort of patch or pin over the God-awful blotch to hide it.
Carefully removing the bulk of the 1/8-inch-deep circle of grease with a Q-tip and then blotting the area with good ol’ Ronsonol lighter fluid a few times took all traces of the grease right out. I’d used this method on stains before, but never with anything approaching the massive volcanic caldera of dirty lithium grease on the Stylemaster. Whew!
Since the lighter fluid slightly changed the texture of the felt where it was applied, I started to feather in the edges, then, being Mr. Perfection, wound up doing the whole hat and hung it up to dry. Late, dead-dog tired, and intoxicated with fumes, I fell across the bed and crashed fully clothed.
Well, lo and behold, the next morning, the felt on the entire hat had become quite pliable, but still plenty rigid to hold its shape even after walking in the downpour outside. The brim is much softer, too, yet still sufficiently crisp to retain a nice snap, while flexible enough for the headrest in the car to bend the back of it up instead of knocking it akimbo. The felt now has a truly wonderful hand approaching that of a vintage fedora. I think the reason is a combination of the lighter fluid and the repeated all-over handling the hat got in the process of cleaning it. So, the first problem is resolved.
The second issue was the noticeably lighter shade of thread securing the darker hatband to the crown. This is now hardly noticeable. I’m not sure why. It was definitely not the Ronsonol because I was **** in keeping it away from the band. It could be purely a change in my perception—the halo effect—or perhaps sunlight has faded the band for a closer match, or maybe something else entirely, but the color difference is now so negligible that you have to look hard for it. Problem number 2 resolved.
The off-center bit, which has not ‘self-rectified,” is the really weird thing.
It appeared to me that the root cause of the problem with this particular Stylemaster was that it was crooked on the block when made, or some other manufacturing defect. Had the hat come from a vendor here in the US, then I would have immediately exchanged it for another. Since it came from Down Under, the back-and-forth shipping would have exceeded the cost of the hat, so that’s why I kept it.
Well, just the other day—purely to take a trip down memory lane—I dug out an old special-edition suede Neiman-Marcus Churchill alpine-style trilby that I wore extensively years ago. It was my favorite hat all through college and most of my twenties. I don’t wear it anymore because while it sat in storage one summer, moths or some other critters munched on the crown, imparting a hobo look not in keeping with my image. It was a tough way to learn that one must protect suede leather with as much care as fur felt.
Anyway, the point is, that hat had perfect fit and symmetry, but when I put it on and looked in the mirror--egad!--it, too, was cocked an inch off-center to the right. In fact, when I tried on several more of my pre-creased hats, every one of them did the same thing.
The shape of my head has changed! (Twilight Zone theme music). You see, all the hats I’ve acquired in the past several years have been open crown--shaping them to conform to my head—and I wear them almost exclusively. Until I bought this pre-creased Stylemaster, I never realized that my head had morphed.
How could this happen? I just recently had a complete physical exam and was pronounced in excellent health, so it’s not a tumor or anything like that. And I cannot recall Andre the Giant having put me in a tight headlock, or any hippopotami I hang with taking a siesta on my head. I’m still just shy of a 7 1/8, yet the north-south axis of my cranium has rotated to about a 1:00 o’clock-7:00 o’clock orientation. I had not factored the price of cosmetic surgery into this purchase!
I was out a good bit shopping and so forth between then and Christmas, “dating,” if you will, my new fedora in an attempt to “make it mine.” Everywhere I went—the mall, gas station, cleaners, shoe shop, *****house (only kidding, y’all—just making sure you’re still paying attention), people’s eyes were riveted to the hat on my head. Often, they’d go out of their way to compliment it.
Now, I’ve been wearing hats since I was a kid—some of them pretty darn nice ones—and the sum total of all compliments I‘ve received on them did not add up to the positive feedback I got on my Stylemaster in a mere ten days.
Being an extroverted, gregarious guy, I began wearing this hat almost exclusively because it was such a perfect door opener to meeting folks and carrying on lively conversation. I’m an independent business consultant, and the many networking opportunities the Stylemaster spawned segued into several lucrative contracts. I’ve also made new friends, including those in the lovely-lady category, whom I would have never come to know otherwise.
OK, back to those first negatives I mentioned at the beginning of this epic tale:
Wearing it so much in all kinds of weather gradually loosened up the cardboard-like felt, but the hat was still overly stiff. Yet, a dramatic change occurred when I had to repair my weed-whacker last spring. Normally, I would have worn a beater hat for such work, but no, I kept the Stylemaster on, as it had by then become a semi-permanent head fixture I did everything but sleep in.
So, when I took it off before bed, I literally gasped when I saw a perfect circle of ***ky brown grease, exactly the same size as the Ryobi shaft diameter, heaped up right on the front of the crown between the side dents! And, no, the stain was not on center, further contributing to the hat’s asymmetry, and ruling out placing some sort of patch or pin over the God-awful blotch to hide it.
Carefully removing the bulk of the 1/8-inch-deep circle of grease with a Q-tip and then blotting the area with good ol’ Ronsonol lighter fluid a few times took all traces of the grease right out. I’d used this method on stains before, but never with anything approaching the massive volcanic caldera of dirty lithium grease on the Stylemaster. Whew!
Since the lighter fluid slightly changed the texture of the felt where it was applied, I started to feather in the edges, then, being Mr. Perfection, wound up doing the whole hat and hung it up to dry. Late, dead-dog tired, and intoxicated with fumes, I fell across the bed and crashed fully clothed.
Well, lo and behold, the next morning, the felt on the entire hat had become quite pliable, but still plenty rigid to hold its shape even after walking in the downpour outside. The brim is much softer, too, yet still sufficiently crisp to retain a nice snap, while flexible enough for the headrest in the car to bend the back of it up instead of knocking it akimbo. The felt now has a truly wonderful hand approaching that of a vintage fedora. I think the reason is a combination of the lighter fluid and the repeated all-over handling the hat got in the process of cleaning it. So, the first problem is resolved.
The second issue was the noticeably lighter shade of thread securing the darker hatband to the crown. This is now hardly noticeable. I’m not sure why. It was definitely not the Ronsonol because I was **** in keeping it away from the band. It could be purely a change in my perception—the halo effect—or perhaps sunlight has faded the band for a closer match, or maybe something else entirely, but the color difference is now so negligible that you have to look hard for it. Problem number 2 resolved.
The off-center bit, which has not ‘self-rectified,” is the really weird thing.
It appeared to me that the root cause of the problem with this particular Stylemaster was that it was crooked on the block when made, or some other manufacturing defect. Had the hat come from a vendor here in the US, then I would have immediately exchanged it for another. Since it came from Down Under, the back-and-forth shipping would have exceeded the cost of the hat, so that’s why I kept it.
Well, just the other day—purely to take a trip down memory lane—I dug out an old special-edition suede Neiman-Marcus Churchill alpine-style trilby that I wore extensively years ago. It was my favorite hat all through college and most of my twenties. I don’t wear it anymore because while it sat in storage one summer, moths or some other critters munched on the crown, imparting a hobo look not in keeping with my image. It was a tough way to learn that one must protect suede leather with as much care as fur felt.
Anyway, the point is, that hat had perfect fit and symmetry, but when I put it on and looked in the mirror--egad!--it, too, was cocked an inch off-center to the right. In fact, when I tried on several more of my pre-creased hats, every one of them did the same thing.
The shape of my head has changed! (Twilight Zone theme music). You see, all the hats I’ve acquired in the past several years have been open crown--shaping them to conform to my head—and I wear them almost exclusively. Until I bought this pre-creased Stylemaster, I never realized that my head had morphed.
How could this happen? I just recently had a complete physical exam and was pronounced in excellent health, so it’s not a tumor or anything like that. And I cannot recall Andre the Giant having put me in a tight headlock, or any hippopotami I hang with taking a siesta on my head. I’m still just shy of a 7 1/8, yet the north-south axis of my cranium has rotated to about a 1:00 o’clock-7:00 o’clock orientation. I had not factored the price of cosmetic surgery into this purchase!
AlterEgo
A-List Customer
- Messages
- 319
- Location
- Southern USA
Part 3 of 3
Since the Stylemaster’s felt is so much more pliable now, I can crank it around to the left so that the pinch is in line with my nose, but that’s not so comfortable, and it quickly works its way back to the right, anyway. If anyone has ever noticed the asymmetry, they haven’t mentioned it.
I could probably have the hat re-blocked to be straight with respect to my head, but, you know what? I’m just fine with it as is. Like the gap in Lauren Hutton’s teeth, sometimes it’s the flaw that makes a thing MORE attractive. Thus, I have psychologically resolved the third problem, and the compliments continue.
Final thoughts:
I like all of Akubra’s tawny shades—Heritage Fawn, Regency Fawn, Fawn, Mid-Fawn, Dark Fawn, and Nullarbor Tan come to mind--but this Acorn Fawn is my favorite because it’s a real color chameleon that adapts to whatever you are wearing. Depending on what I have on, hues of green, brown, gray, or taupe are accentuated. I even detect a hint of pink and violet sometimes. I usually wear this Stylemaster with earth tones, but it looks handsome with navy blue or even black.
The hat runs the gamut of formality, as well. It looks as appropriate with a business suit as jeans and a flannel shirt, and all points in between. On cold nights, I’ve even been known to don it over robe and pajamas—inside the house. OK, I do occasionally wear it to the mailbox and back for jollies.
In addition, I can wear the Stylemaster exactly as I prefer a hat to seat on my head, rather low, just less than a finger’s width over the top of my ears. The telescope crown allows this to happen and still clear the top of my noggin better than a center dent. Stays on in a fairly stiff wind, too.
Finally, I like that the Stylemaster is its own hat. It’s not a copy of any other fedora, not that there’s anything wrong with that. The current Stylemaster is a revival, but is exactly the same Akubra that goes back at least to the early 1950s, maybe further, and stands on its own merit. Not unlike the original Whippet, I predict the Stylemaster will someday be considered a classic. Personally, I think it already is.
Of my 67 articles of headgear, including a brand-new Moonstone Fed IV Deluxe, this acorn fawn Stylemaster remains not only my current, but also my all-time favorite hat.
Since the Stylemaster’s felt is so much more pliable now, I can crank it around to the left so that the pinch is in line with my nose, but that’s not so comfortable, and it quickly works its way back to the right, anyway. If anyone has ever noticed the asymmetry, they haven’t mentioned it.
I could probably have the hat re-blocked to be straight with respect to my head, but, you know what? I’m just fine with it as is. Like the gap in Lauren Hutton’s teeth, sometimes it’s the flaw that makes a thing MORE attractive. Thus, I have psychologically resolved the third problem, and the compliments continue.
Final thoughts:
I like all of Akubra’s tawny shades—Heritage Fawn, Regency Fawn, Fawn, Mid-Fawn, Dark Fawn, and Nullarbor Tan come to mind--but this Acorn Fawn is my favorite because it’s a real color chameleon that adapts to whatever you are wearing. Depending on what I have on, hues of green, brown, gray, or taupe are accentuated. I even detect a hint of pink and violet sometimes. I usually wear this Stylemaster with earth tones, but it looks handsome with navy blue or even black.
The hat runs the gamut of formality, as well. It looks as appropriate with a business suit as jeans and a flannel shirt, and all points in between. On cold nights, I’ve even been known to don it over robe and pajamas—inside the house. OK, I do occasionally wear it to the mailbox and back for jollies.
In addition, I can wear the Stylemaster exactly as I prefer a hat to seat on my head, rather low, just less than a finger’s width over the top of my ears. The telescope crown allows this to happen and still clear the top of my noggin better than a center dent. Stays on in a fairly stiff wind, too.
Finally, I like that the Stylemaster is its own hat. It’s not a copy of any other fedora, not that there’s anything wrong with that. The current Stylemaster is a revival, but is exactly the same Akubra that goes back at least to the early 1950s, maybe further, and stands on its own merit. Not unlike the original Whippet, I predict the Stylemaster will someday be considered a classic. Personally, I think it already is.
Of my 67 articles of headgear, including a brand-new Moonstone Fed IV Deluxe, this acorn fawn Stylemaster remains not only my current, but also my all-time favorite hat.
Stylemaster Acorn Fawn
This is my only low crown fedora. I like the color very much, but the cell phone camera does not give a good true color. I did rebash the crown. There is not as much material to work with since there is the low crown so I guess you could call the bash a quarter carat diamond. It does straiten the side taper a good bit.
This is my only low crown fedora. I like the color very much, but the cell phone camera does not give a good true color. I did rebash the crown. There is not as much material to work with since there is the low crown so I guess you could call the bash a quarter carat diamond. It does straiten the side taper a good bit.
Picker
One of the Regulars
- Messages
- 162
- Location
- outside Atlanta, Georgia
stylemaster
Hey, Dundee,
How about a photo of it on your noggin?
Picker
Hey, Dundee,
How about a photo of it on your noggin?
Picker
Picker
One of the Regulars
- Messages
- 162
- Location
- outside Atlanta, Georgia
Looks good!! I'm an Akubra Fedora/Sydney man myself, but I have contemplated the Stylemaster several times. Now, how about a shot of you, the Stylemaster, and that famous big bass of yours?
Picker
Picker
Picker
One of the Regulars
- Messages
- 162
- Location
- outside Atlanta, Georgia
You got me!!! Merry Christmas, old friend.
fftopic: I have some firecrackers for you and the wife. When would be a good time to get them to you?
Spats McGee
One Too Many
- Messages
- 1,042
- Location
- Arkansas
That's a great story, AlterEgo!AlterEgo said:
Featured products
-
John Lofgren Monkey Boots Shinki Horsebuttt - $1,136 The classic monkey boot silhouette in an incredibly rich Shinki russet horse leather. -
Grant Stone Diesel Boot Dark Olive Chromexcel - $395 Goodyear welted, Horween Chromexcel, classic good looks. -
Schott 568 Vandals Jacket - $1,250 The classic Perfecto motorcycle jacket, in a very special limited-edition Schott double rider style.
carldelo
One Too Many
- Messages
- 1,556
- Location
- Astoria, NYC
Dundee said:
I guess you could call the bash a quarter carat diamond.
Hey Dundee - I like the rebash quite a bit, and the name too. I'm glad you changed your mind - that lid suits you well. Enjoy!
