Yankee Key West.

I hail from a sleepy little fishing village on the CT shore. I took up residence there while in college, I was haunting the area restaurants as a waiter/bartender/jackass and had the pleasure of meeting of life's elite denizens. One eccentric was Stan. Stan was a stockbroker in NYC until he had a breakdown and lost his mind. He didn't lose his fortune as his family stepped in and organized a trust for him. Stan's had no regard for social grace, and no use for the constraints of fashion. He would spend his days mowing lawns (at 55) in cut off jeans, a lavender bandana, cowboy boots and a fez. He wouldn't turn the mower off in between gigs, he would just walk it down main street to the next gig. Yep, we had lots of color in Yankee Key West. Here's Stan in the Hump De Bump, at a fab watering hole called Bill's.