MIDWEEK MALE; TOOL BAGS, TROUSERS, TAFFY AND TENNIS
Midweek Male is a newsletter type thing - notes, observations, thoughts and recommendations on travel, eating / drinking, sport, shopping, design, architecture, cooking, books, style, records etc.
WIMBLEDON v GLASTONBURY
I went to Wimbledon during the first week of competition, just as all my friends were returning from Glastonbury. I’ve been once before when I had prime, Centre Court tickets and watched Roger Federer et all under the roof, with Hugh Grant in the VIP seats opposite.
This time round my pass was for the outer courts only and this meant a fine and highly civilised, freewheeling day, wandering around the immaculate South London campus from match to match watching brilliant, battling players I’d mostly never heard of, with a cold beaker of Pimms under my seat.
Taking time out from the bleachers, on a deck chair, in five minutes of warm sunshine, looking at a Jumbotron screen showing the Dan Evans game and generally feeling rather good about the world, it occurred to me that Wimbledon is the Glastonbury of sport. (Come on, work with me, here).
The Centre Court is the Pyramid Stage hosting the big-hitting, headlining acts, while the outer areas, the high numbers courts (say, 12 -18) are more like Glasto’s Other Stage, Woodsies and Avalon, offering the more niche entertainment - the indy band wild cards and the plucky unseeded. Nu-jazz, grime and trap can be found in the doubles and mixed doubles. There are also funky little bars and food stands and merch stores. And just as any Glasbonbury lifer will tell you that their favourite festival is not about the big names and mani stages, Wimbledon is not about the top ranked players either. It’s the wider, deeper tennisean experience that really matters.
The real grass action at Wimbledon is on the outer courts where you come across banging, ding-dong games almost by accident, stopping at first for a cursory look over a low fence and a row of park benches (seating is much more informal and ad hoc out here) quickly becoming engrossed and then hunting down a tram line adjacent seat to settle in to when there’s a changeover.
And so it was at the end of the day; a men’s doubles game - Maximo Gonzalez and Andres Molteni v Stefanos Tsitsipas and Petros Tsitsipas. (S. Tsitsipas being ranked 11th best singles player in the world btw - aka a hot ticket). As the game heated up, I found myself sitting right next door to the Tsitsipas brothers’ mother - a notable ex-player herself and a vocally exuberant spectator. Being beside Ma Tsitsipas, and watching her (and very clearly hearing her) live out every rally, serve, double fault, win and miss that her boys played was the full “Challengers” movie experience.
“Vamos Petros!” she would yell. “Let’s go Stefanos!” Then, between points, a politely stressed-out, but gentle and long suffering Stefanos would walk over to our corner, calmly wipe his brow on a towel and silently mouth in our direction, “Mama…please.” ”
A BAG FOR LIFE
What a joy to discover that something you thought had long been taken out of manufacture and sale, is actually still made and available. Retailers like the marvellous Labour and Wait in London and Norfolk clothiers Old Town have made a business from this kind of nostalgie de trousse, selling practical, hardy, beautiful bits of kit and clobber that is dependable, well made, joyful and also might remind you of your dad’s shed.
For ages I have wanted to buy myself a croissant-shaped, canvas tool bag like the holdall my parents’ friendly carpenter had when I was a boy, but this being 2024 I couldn’t find one anywhere. Then I discovered, by accident, that I was googling wrong - the correct term for what I was after, not “tool bag” but “Tool Bass”.
I’ve no idea why it’s called a “bass” and not a bag. Maybe because it looks like a bass fish? Or that it shares its profile with a double bass musical instrument (it doesn’t) Anyway, here it is. Rough, tough hessian construction with a cotton lining and a pleasing configuration of grommets around the edges so you can thread though a drawstring if needed. There are pockets or compartments, you just throw your wrenches and hammers in there and then lay it flat and open when you need to select your weapon. I got this one (above) brand new, off eBay…27 quid! For one hundred pounds, you can buy a posher, luxier, leather “bass” (shaped like a rugby ball) from shooting specialist in Suffolk called Gibbins.
THE RIGHT TROUSERS
The aforementioned Old Town, Norfolk, is TV star Monty Don’s favourite store and the beloved outfitters of gardeners, antique dealers and people who think proper British clothes manufacturing peaked in about 1955. It’s lovely, simple, sturdy, well made gear - high rise pants, chore jackets in canvas and wool, Famous Five jumpers etc. I have lots of Old Town pieces including a baggy, boxy grey linen suit. The bad news is…Old Town is closing down. Its retiring owners Marie and Will, have tried but failed to find someone to take the business on and Old Town will cease production at the end of the year. So, if you like excellent trousers and celebrity gardencore style and happen to have a few million kicking around, get yourself and your investor cheque book up to Holt, Norfolk pronto. The rest of us? Buy some Old Town clobber asap…while stocks last. When it’s gone…it’s gone.
TAFFY KNOWS…
I can’t wait to read Taffy Brodesser-Akner’s latest book, Long Island Compromise. Early reviews have compared it to the work of Philip Roth, Tom Wolfe…and Sarah Silverman, which is high praise indeed but also exciting, bold and promising and could mean a few good Jewish gags as well. I I loved Taffy’s last book Fleishman Is in Trouble, and really enjoyed the excellent TV adaptation, with Jesse Eisenberg and Claire Danes, on Apple TV. Here’s an article I wrote for the Times about my own Fleishman-esque experience of being the poorest person living in super wealthy Notting Hill, London.
https://www.thetimes.com/uk/article/fleishman-is-in-trouble-and-life-as-a-pauper-among-the-0-1-sqs8vltdp
How proud must mama Tsitsipas be? That's so funny. I also enjoyed Fleischman (both the book and the TV series). Looking forward to her next book. Riff-raffluent. Great term for it!