Life

Few shoes have traveled as far as the brogue. Its origins lie in the boggy countrysides of Scotland and Ireland, where its signature rows of tiny perforations (called broguing) were said to help drain water from sodden leather. That practical purpose disappeared long ago, but the detailing remained. Today, while its close relative, the plain Oxford, belongs in the office, a brogue looks as though it has loosened its tie and gone somewhere nice for lunch. It comes into its own at this time of year, too. As wardrobes move away from cotton towards flannel, corduroy, and heavier wool, the brogue simply looks right. For a shoe that has been around for well over a century, it still leaves shoemakers a surprising amount of room to maneuver.

When I arrive at the Longfellow Hotel in Portland, Maine, the weather is as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow described it: “Into each life some rain must fall/ Some days must be dark and dreary.” In his childhood home, I stand in the “rainy day” room, where Longfellow is believed to have written those words in 1841. A portrait of his sister Anne hangs on the wall. She was a caring soul, who helped hold family life together while her brother became a celebrated poet. His portable writing desk is on display, complete with white quill. The first poem he published, aged 13, was written in this house. Six years later, he sailed to Europe. His early travel sketches appeared in the New England Magazine, while his observations of European life were brought together in Outre-Mer and Hyperion.

A lovely, intelligent female acquaintance, roughly my own age, keeps telling me to grow up and date women roughly my own age. And she has a point. If I dated women of my cohort, we could discuss the fall of the Berlin Wall, the genius of the first R.E.M. album, and agree that in those days it was easier to get off a sofa. But life, as always, isn’t simple. As I say to my female friend: "I wish I could. But my loins, when they are functional, have different ideas." The awkward truth is that young, slender, fair-skinned women remain an erotic ideal And I really do wish I fancied women my age. It's a seller's market for sane and solvent men with their own hair, or so I am told.

Good news, burger lovers. Help is on the way. Last month, Donald Trump announced on Truth Social that he has “concluded a deal to substantially lower the price of ground beef.” Well, it’s about time. As someone who covers the barbecue beat, I’ve been keeping a close eye on beef prices the past few years, especially brisket. They’ve kept going up. According to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average price of ground beef nationwide has risen 24 percent, from $5.55 per pound in January 2025 to $6.89 this summer.  Fortunately, that’s about to change – and just in time for football tailgating season.