

There’s something about motorcycles that appeals to men (and many women); perhaps it’s that man-and-his-horse thing that goes back centuries, if not millennia. After all, riding a bike is the closest thing to riding a horse, in rems of transportation, right down to the saddle sores.
A bike is also the last form of motorized transportation that can be truly bespoke, unlike automobiles, which started out that way until a certain Mr. Ford decided that what we really needed were off-the-rack vehicles. For those who can afford it, a bespoke suit, bespoke shirts, even bespoke shoes are the ultimate luxury. For those who can afford it and who still retain some rebel DNA, a bespoke bike is the not just the ultimate luxury, but the ultimate work of art, too.
There are a good number of motorcycle builders in the US and in Europe—people who do everything from modifying an existing bike (such as a Harley), to ground-up builds to a customer’s taste (and even size). One such man is Walt Siegl, whose bikes are painfully beautiful; painful as in you-don’t-want-to-ride-them-in-case-they-get-dirty painful. He works with vintage Ducati and Harley engines, and builds bikes around a completely rebuilt, every-part-new engine.
He manufactures the equivalent of “made to measure”, too (as well as true bespoke, which knows no bounds): a “standard” racer of his own design, pictured (at Achilles Heel), that is customizable. If I had one made, I might just want it for the living room. Or if I had a bar, inside, as sculpture. And, of course, to remind me and my patrons to not drink and drive.




















































Handkerchief tied around the neck is as old a style as wearing clothes themselves–and used to be about practicality. This is Dastmal Yazdi, handkerchiefs from the central Iranian city of Yazd, in either cotton or silk. Warm in the winter, to absorb perspiration or wipe your brow in the summer. A vintage Lee denim jacket and a Saville Row suit might be an odd combination, all the more so with an Iranian scarf, but who cares?





