Charleston: Casually Dressed-Up

If you read through some of the list of what blogs I follow under my profile, you might notice that in addition to so many blogs on botany, conservation, history, and politics, I also follow a few menswear blogs.  These are not just any menswear blogs, however, as they tend to focus on styles of dress associated with more past widespread use, styles of dress now largely relegated to the realm of politicians, academics, "preppies", etc.  Many of them are composed by people living either in New York or New England, where it must be admitted a certain decorum of daily dress still largely holds sway. 

In general, having traveled across the continent in every direction thus far in my life, I notice that formality tends to increase from a largely casual west coast environment to a largely still awkward with completely casual east coast.  There are exceptions, of course; Miami can swing either way in both extremes, San Francisco gets every bit as swanky as New York, Victoria and Mackinac Island take neo-Victorianism in fashion to whole new levels, etc.  By and large, though, its possible to see many east coast business types remain decently attired even after the work day is done.  As anyone can see these days though, dress for most people consists of little better than changing out of pajamas upon leaving the house.  Historically speaking, this phenomenon seems to have arisen out of my generation's penchant for the democratization of comfort.  Even 15 years ago I don't remember a lot of people going to the bank in t-shirts and sweat pants!  Back in the day "casual" might have even included a blazer and tie, articles of which are now considered to be practically the same as wearing a suit.

That, I suppose, is a broad topic for another day, and even another blog.  Whatever brought about this particular flourish of gnashing my teeth over mere pants, you ask?  Well, this would be because I found a photo I snapped in Charleston, South Carolina.

Broad Street, looking the Cooper River, downtown Charleston, SC.

I have no idea who these people are, and in no way wish to single them out as individuals for any particular reason, but they were unintentionally caught in a photo I was taking of the street.  I kept the picture because it was so representative of how many people dressed in the lovely city.  Amazingly, these people looked "average", as many more people did it up even more with formal business attire.  Everyone from children to the elderly looked positively amazing.  Sure, some people had jeans and shorts on, but even then almost no one wore a t-shirt.  Most of the women had dresses on, there were a lot of khakis and bow ties on the men, and all this was despite the fact that Charleston was having a very Charleston day of near 90 with humidity probably in the same percentile.  Remember, Charleston is about as close to the perfect definition of "humid subtropical" as one can get, complete with palms everywhere, crepe myrtles, Spanish Moss (Tillandsia Usneoides) dripping from every tree, and amazing centuries old Live Oak (Quercus Virginiana) proudly shading cemeteries and private gardens.

Washington Park, Charleston, SC.

I have to admit that I felt a bit under dressed, despite the fact that my Canadian body was well-clad for the climate (I had on khaki shorts and a linen shirt covered in a pattern of hibiscus flowers).  No one stared or made passing comments, probably because it was, simply, summer in coastal South Carolina.  In fact, people there in general were polite and friendly, if tranquil.  The popular image of the modern South tends to forget such charming civility found in her older cities in favor of wanting to deride everyone south of the Mason-Dixon line as a redneck.  Charleston certainly looked every bit as impressive, if not more so, than experiences I have had of New York and Boston. 

So Wet That Things Are Dry

Dump a garbage can full of water on a dry load of top soil.  You will find that it runs off in all directions and some of it turns into sand; the organic components of the soil having washed away and the bare mineral contents of what consists of ground becomes exposed and featured as the star of the show.  So it is even in the rainiest parts of the world, and indeed our wonderful continent.  The banks of the Amazon are routinely inundated and then exposed and often leave lovely beaches in the wake of the emptying river.  The edge of the rainforest becomes a desert of sorts.  So too does the edge of the sea, with wave action constantly moving around large quantities of the prime material component of our lovely beaches. 

In general, North America starts out very wet on the west coast, with quite dry patches south of Monterrey Bay in California, and then turns bone dry past the mountains which trap the Pacific moisture dead in its tracks.  Eventually deserts, more mountains, grasslands which are nearly deserts, and then the edge of a grand forest progresses eastward and southward.  The Gulf of Mexico sends its bounty west and north into rainier lands of less extreme temperatures and we have our grand forests both tropical and temperate.  Still, this is a pretty dry place.  Even in the humid Gulf Coast one can have many cloudless days and rather arid conditions here and there, especially on beaches and riverbanks.  So it is that we can have cacti even in Florida and New York, far from where we envision they properly belong.  One only imagines what the first settlers thought of such plants, but we know for sure that wherever their descendents found them, they considered them to be a nuisance to draft animals and weeding hands alike and many were removed. 

The best places to find them in the moist east these days would thus be their most practical locations, those dry and sunny places where other plants tend to give up the ghost, the dunes of beaches.

Here we have some Eastern Prickly Pear (Opuntia Humifusa/Compressa), found on the sandier reaches of Hunting Island in South Carolina.  Too dry for the coastal marsh species, too exposed for other island denizens, too much beach and not enough ocean.  Beside them lie cones of the local Slash Pines (Pinus Elliotii), destined to be food for some sort of creature or another, unable to seed properly in a place more suitable for the desert junks that either gets ignored or detested.  The naturalist on staff at the state park noted that no one usually notices them, much less asks about them, despite how exotic and unique they seem to be this far east.  Nevertheless, our dry land has cacti nearly north to the arctic treeline, and yes, right next to both oceans. 

Manhattan Before Manhattan: Ontario in New York? A Rocky Question.

Most images of Manhattan focus on its world class skyline and numerous commercial and cultural attractions.  Broader shots of the island as a whole, usually taken from the Empire State Building, show a rather rectangular flat island crowded over in all but Central Park.  In reality, however, the New York area, even Manhattan island, is an incredibly beautiful natural landscape featuring everything from mountains and forests to prairies and lovely beaches.  Before the urban core of New York was paved over it featured a very attractive paradise which lured both First and Second Born alike to her shores.  Most of her natural features have long since been transformed; even where nature seems to persist (such as in Central Park) the world has been carefully groomed and altered to human tastes.  Some protected areas, such as Fire Island, contain remnants of what the early Dutch colonists found here.  Pine barrens persist in central Long Island, and the New Jersey Meadowlands have so far still largely eluded development.

Most enduring of all, however, would be the geological features of the area.  While human development has generally preferred flat spaces for urban growth, the fact remains that the rocky Earth still manages to defy modern engineering when using its own weapon of economics against itself.  A cliff is too expensive to level, and large outcrops of granite, gabbro, and other fun ancient stuff is just too much of a pain in the ass to constantly dynamite.  One of the most impressive features to be seen from the big city, right in it in fact, would be the Palisades, sheer cliffs that confront many westward views across the Hudson River into New Jersey.

The lower deck, westbound, of the George Washington Bridge (I-95) looking toward New Jersey and those majestic Palisades.  You can see views like this from upper Manhattan northwards for some distance, until around the Tappan Zee Bridge.  

Perhaps I have always been focused enough on the natural world to notice the contours of the land and natural features even when surrounded by human grandeur, but one of the first things I noticed when emerging from Penn Station in my first ever trip to New York was the beginnings of those cliffs as I stared all the way down 33rd street and across the Hudson.  I always subconsciously imagined New York as being flat and nothing but buildings, even if my reading had told me otherwise.  When I left the city after that first visit, I took the Empire State line clear back to Buffalo and was able to see the entire length of the tidal Hudson north to Troy, including going underground past what looked remarkably like the rocks of the Canadian Shield so very far to the north.  The great city, riddled with sewer and subway tunnels, was carved into a very rocky heart that looked like it could have been pulled out of northern Ontario or Quebec.

The inspiration for this post, in fact, came from a very Shield looking outcrop that I passed along the Harlem River, not too far opposite from Yankee Stadium.  It even had quartz veins in it!  I could not snap a picture because I was focused on dealing with the insane traffic, but thankfully Google streetview helped me find again what really took me by surprise.

To find this and other outcrops, simply look anywhere along Harlem River Drive or the stretch of I-95 in Manhattan.  

I mean come on, the thing could very well be something one can find in Ontario!  The actual stuff is too young by far to hold a candle to that Shield rock, however.  What you see is probably only 500 million years old, even if it does have schist and gneiss in there, even a little bit of marble.  The ancient Shield can be found relatively close by, 150 miles away in the Adirondacks, a detached part of the Laurentian Mountains.  Billion year old granite, which not part of the geological core of the continent, can be found even closer in the strip of Appalachians which the Hudson forces through in between West Point and Sing Sing Prison.

Forgive the fuzziness, it was dusk.  This is along I-87 southbound, pretty close to where New York's suburbs start.  

That's right, the mountains of the east come within a mere twenty miles of the concrete jungle.  The Appalachian trail passes through here on a pedestrian bridge over I-87, and is among the lowest elevation (and most urban) of stretches of the otherwise wilderness oriented trail.  It can be amusing to think that some tourists are camping out and even sleeping under the stars even as others are posting photos of Time's Square from their mobile devices not a few dozen miles away.  Even in New York we can find ourselves still trying to interact with our wild world which is never truly far away.