There are men who cast lines, and then there is Jules Maverick. Born on the breezes of Marblehead and seasoned on rivers from Montana to the Marne, Jules is a master fly fisher who maintains that the poetry of the sport is in the wrist, not the rod — though he'll sell you a very fine rod, and the conversation alone is worth the trip.

When he's not standing knee-deep in a trout stream, he's breaking in another pair of cowboy boots, finishing a flight of craft ales, or at the piano, coaxing Chopin from the keys as though he'd composed it himself. He is fluent in French. His tennis trophies gather dust in the attic. His belt buckles — all sterling, all engraved with fish — are trophies of a different order entirely.

Jules has a taste for objects that carry their history with them: reels machined like pocket watches, snuff boxes chased in silver, things that suggest a gentleman who lives by tide, toast, and tradition. His corner of the Retreat is stocked accordingly, and to buy from Jules is to join a lineage of people who understand that some luxuries are not modern at all — they are simply eternal.

He was first invited for a weekend of fishing and piano. A decade later, his boots are still by the door.

Need a Flybox or another treasure that Jules has found? Head to the Angler's Barge

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