Pop Up get-up.

My battle gear for the Flea was of utmost importance. I nixed a vintage prairie-inspired maternity dress (cinched with a belt, of course) and vetoed all black (because I wanted to stand out) before finally settling on this khaki ensemble, a safari-inspired look that was just perfect for sartorial stealth reporting. Summery, yes, but a brown scarf kept me warm.

The ubiquitous boyfriend fatigue jacket by J. Crew.

Lace blouse (which turned into a dress around midnight at the Boom Boom Room) by French Connection.

Matchstick jean by J. Crew.

The ubiquitous peep-toe brogues by Nine West.

Tiered brass and wood bead necklace by the Dandelion.

Don't forget to read my recaps at All Plaid Out. View my snaps on Flickr.

A trip to the Pop Up Flea.

If shopping was considered a competitive sport (and to many women, it is), then the Pop Up Flea was my Boston Marathon. Venerated and long-awaited, it dominated this weekend: determined my wardrobe, governed my time, filled my Canon memory card, and laid siege to my imagination. In sum, it was a perfect success of proportion as epic as the American frontier.

Santa, take note! I wanted everything!

I would like this velvet bow tie, designed and handmade in New York City by Mister Mort.

I absolutely need one of these terrific Pendleton for Epaulet flannels to keep me warm (and that bag on the left to sling over my shoulder) while I skate around town.

I'll put these Iron Ranger boots by Red Wing for J. Crew under the tree for a deserving gentleman.

My closet is starving for a custom-designed Rogues Gallery tee, screenprinted before my very eyes.

This Jack Spade cold weather wear was made for me. I'll wrap up that book for my L.A. friends.

I could live forever in these Gitman Brothers button-downs (stolen, perhaps, from that Red Wing-clad fellow).

My home office needs a makeover. Let's keep it simple with antique staplers collected by JP Williams of Amass.

I'll keep my holiday toes merry and bright in these Solmate Socks, handmade in Vermont and sold by the Hill-Side.

***

On Friday and Saturday I dispatched wrap-ups for All Plaid Out. They include short interviews with a select group of purveyors, favorite photos, and (hopefully by now) a reader's comment or two. You can read my reports here.

What I couldn't buy I took home in pictures. Explore my photographs of the Flea.

Bows and curtsies go to Max Wastler, PUF proprietors Randy Goldberg and Michael Williams, and the kind folks at Gitman Brothers, for making this all possible for me. It was a very satisfying, very fun, very American weekend, and I am so proud and thankful to have had the opportunity to experience it not only as a fan of quality American-made goods, but as a writer, a roving reporter, a brand new pro.

Broad stripes & bright stars.

Wandering around New York City I always encounter a lot of the following: cops, tourists, halal carts, and star-spangled banners.

The first three I could live without, but the flags I simply adore. (Okay, maybe I'll keep the falafel, too.)

I'm busy this weekend casing the Pop Up Flea for All Plaid Out (and crafting the world's longest Dear Santa), so here are some Old Glories to tide you over until my post-PUF wrap-up.

I found this one keeping watch over a sick collection of antique locks at the Brooklyn Flea this past October.

This beaut was my most recent find on a film crew's trailer at Chelsea Piers.

My favorite flag adorns a Chelsea hardware store's wall, somewhere in the twenties.

(If you find it, take a snap and let me know!)

The Pop Up Flea.

This weekend the Pop Up Flea descends on NoHo for three full days of sartorial enlightenment. The men's fashion exhibition, dreamed up and pulled together by Michael Williams of A Continuous Lean and Urban Daddy's Randy Goldberg, opens on Friday, November 20, at three o'clock, and will offer some of the best of new American artistry - fresh duds and food and shaves and haircuts. (I'll skip those last two bits.)

Featured designers will include but are not limited to: Gitman Brothers, Rogues Gallery, J. Crew, J. Press, Jack Spade, the Hill-Side, and Billykirk.

I plan to make appearances each day to learn from the big boys: get styley by osmosis, master the art of the bow tie, cop a 'tude, and otherwise dig my hands into everything. If you are anywhere near Manhattan on this hopefully gorgeous weekend, add the Pop Up Flea to your list of happenings.

Check back here and at All Plaid Out for daily reports of my Flea adventures and fashionable finds.

New York City is about get a lot more handsome.

Sartoria Americana.

Like scouts and sailors, I am easily identified by my uniform. And whenever I feel compelled to defend what has become my go-to get-up, I point to the fashion greats. Designers and creative directors are proof positive that great sartorial minds cultivate closets with little variation, eschewing the trends for their own take on the “classic”. Tonne Goodman, Tom Ford, Ralph Lauren,Donna Karan - all have a signature style that rarely wavers, year in, year out.

My uniform happened by accident; for the past eight months I have just refused to wear anything other than the pieces shown above. Night and day. Work and play. I make it black-tie appropriate with a champagne sequin tank, and I winterize it with a scarf. Should opportunity arise to hit the skateboard, I swap brogues for Converse. If the temp rises the jeans come off and chino shorts jump on. Say what you will about my Tradette fatigues; to me this uniform is double-stitched American perfection.All items I own are bolded. Others are substitutes. Clockwise from top:

• Ralph Lauren pearl studs
• J. Crew boyfriend fatigue jacket
• Louis Vuitton Speedy (I carry my grandmother's hand-me-down.)
• J. Crew Pearl Ring (I wear Kenneth Jay Lane's version.)
• Pedro Garcia leather brogue pumps
• J. Crew selvedge chambray shirt
• Libertine distressed jean
• J. Crew skinny metallic leather belt

(By the end of most nights out I also tend to wear Tanqueray gin, but that is always a happy accident.)

I feel most like myself in these duds - the sartorial daughter of Jane Goodall and Mary Randolph Carter, of the elements and the seasons and the outdoors, as proper at a cocktail party as on the deck of a sailboat. Ça look, c'est moi.