It is time for Chaps and Chapettes

It is time for Chaps and Chapettes
Nos cuentan hoy en el suplemento de La Vanguardia que en los últimos años el genuino encanto inglés “se ha marchitado como una fruta en alcohol venenoso”, palabras textuales de Gustav Temple, creador de la revolución Chap, y hay que revitalizarlo mediante una revolución. pero una revolución elegante, sin sudar ni desgañitarse, faltaría más.

Se trata de un movimiento que pretende combatir la cultura de la vulgaridad mediante la cortesía y las buenas formas: regreso a los trajes (3 piezas), fumar en pipa, el Dry Martini, la vestimenta vintage, las damas pinup alocadas en la intimidad pero elegantes, etc…

Dicho movimiento tiene una revista propia, THE CHAP, una cabecera de culto para los gentlemen del mundo, por lo visto (pero que también nos interesa a las mujeres). Aquí os dejo su dirección y ya me contaréis qué os parece:

Sí. a MÍ ME GUSTAN. Bienvenidos a los Gentlemen.

Y como se trata de una moda, ya tiene sus seguidores, que con timidez van incorporando a su manera elementos como el sombrero elegante, el traje, los modales… De momento se me ocurre destacar de los nuevitos a Jason Mraz, cuyo nuevo disco cuenta con 3 nominaciones a los premios Grammys en las categorías de “Canción del año”, “Mejor actuación pop masculina” (ambas por “I´m yours”) y “Álbum con el mejor trabajo de ingeniero” (sic nota de prensa).

The Chap Manifesto

Society has become sick with some nameless malady of the soul. We have become the playthings of corporations intent on converting our world into a gargantuan shopping precinct. Pleasantness and civility are being discarded as the worthless ephemera of a bygone age – an age when men doffed their hats to the ladies, and small children could be counted upon to mind one’s Jack Russell while one took a mild and bitter in the local hostelry.
Instead, we live in a world where children are huge hooded creatures lurking in the shadows; the local hostelry has been taken over by a large chain that specialises in chilled lager, whose principal function is to aggravate the nervous system. Needless to say, the Jack Russell is no longer there upon one’s return.
The Chap proposes to take a stand against this culture of vulgarity. We must show our children that the things worth fighting for are not the latest plastic plimsolls but a shiny pair of brogues. We must wean them off their alcopops and teach them how to mix martinis. Let the young not be ashamed of their flabby paunches, which they try to hide in their nylon tracksuits – we shall show them how a well-tailored suit can disguise the most ruined of bodies. Finally, let us capitalise on youth’s love of peculiar argot Ð only replace their pidgin ghetto-speak with fruity bons mots and dry witticisms.
It is time for Chaps and Chapettes from all walks of life to stand up and be counted. But fear not, ye languid and ye plain idle: ours is a revolution based not on getting up early and exerting oneself – but a revolution that can be achieved by a single raised eyebrow over a monocle; the ordering of a glass of port in All Bar One; the wearing of a particularly fetching cardigan upon a visit to one’s bookmaker. In other words: a revolution of panache. We shall bewilder the masses with seams in our trousers that could cut paper, trilbies angled so rakishly that traffic comes to a standstill; and by refusing the bland, watery substances that are foisted upon us by faceless corporations, we shall bring the establishment to its knees, begging for sartorial advice and a nip from our hip flasks.

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