How To Wear A Trilby

It’s not easy wearing a hat. You stand out more in a crowd than a man wearing polka-dot knickerbockers or a cape. The hat radically changes a man’s silhouette, probably more than any other item of clothing.

People look at you if you wear a hat. Anyone that is passionate about classic men’s style is probably used to the stares of others. But a (proper) hat draws stares from everyone, everywhere. I bought my first proper hat – a brown-felt trilby from Lock & Co – a couple of weeks ago and am just getting used to these sensations, this attention.

The comments on that previous post included: “I have been a daily hat wearer for years. While I do get the occasional odd glance while wearing a hat, I mainly get compliments” and also “wearing a hat makes you look like a dope, especially if the hat is a very fine one.” I can completely understand why men are passionate about hats in both directions.

I think the reason is that everyone knows hats are incredibly practical, but they don’t feel comfortable wearing one. And I can’t help feeling that perhaps they resent that. Or they resent that their head gets cold and they feel silly in a beanie. And flat caps look odd, or over trendy.

A hat keeps you warm. It’s an overused fact, but a fact nonetheless, that most of your body heat escapes through your head. When you get older, losing your hair, many years from now (as the Beatles put it) you need something to cover your head in cold weather. It’s necessary.

And a hat keeps you dry. Remember those close ups of Humphrey Bogart, standing in the rain on a street corner, watching the house opposite? The rain was pelting down on his hat and trench coat. But he wasn’t getting wet. It’s an oddly liberating experience when you first where a proper hat in the rain, and everyone around you is either clashing umbrellas or scampering for cover.

If you just don’t like hats, fine. But trust me, if you have even the sneakiest suspicion that you might like one, try it a few times and you won’t want to turn back. Sure, you’ll feel self-conscious, but that’s the case with wearing anything new. I used to feel self-conscious wearing a pocket handkerchief. Now I get odd looks if I’m not wearing one.

Some hat enthusiasts will disagree with me, but I think a hat is also an unusual enough accessory to need balance elsewhere. I won’t wear my hat with a double-breasted suit, tie and briefcase. Because to me that is straying almost into costume – or a lack of individuality. I think my hat looks best with casual trousers, a blazer and open-necked shirt. Perhaps a raincoat on top. In the same way I wouldn’t wear a tie, pocket handkerchief, tie clip and boutonniere to work, no matter how good it might look. It’s a question of balance and personal taste.

Finally, for those that requested it, there are shots here of my hat with its box, and a photo of how it looks rolled up for travel.

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Yard-O-Led

The selection of a fine pen is a personal thing. It’s all about balance, feel, taste and your writing style.  But having waxed lyrical about the subject it would be shameful not to let you know my choice. So perhaps I could have entitled this article practising what I preach.

There are numerous makers around with varying degrees of pedigree, and you might find it useful to do a little research. My father, from whom I’ve acquired my love of pens, favours the Parker Duofolds –the favoured pen of author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This love in part stems from my grandfather, whose Duofold dad inherited and still uses. Indeed, it’s hard to think of my father without thinking about his scribbling a hand written letter using my grandfather’s pen.

The default setting for most people I encounter seems to be the Montblanc. A nice enough pen, but to me it has become a bit of a fashion statement these days.

Of course you would be well served if you decided to go for English pen maker Conway Stewart. A company with a distinguished history - and favoured by Winston Churchill - the declining use of fountain pens in the 70’s forced the company into bankruptcy. Resurrected in the 1990’s it is the favoured gift of Her Majesty’s Government to foreign dignitaries and heads of state. Consequently it has been held by some distinguished hands and is the pen of choice for the aspirant statesman.

My own choice, and something of an outsider, is Yard-O-Led. An English company based in Birmingham, the company actually started life as two businesses. One, the Sampson Mordan Company, was founded in 1822 and invented the first propelling pencil known as the Mordan Everpoint, which were typically styled in gold and silver. The company was destroyed during WWII. In 1934 a man named Brenner took out a patent for a propelling pencil designed to hold 12 three inch leads – hence the name Yard-O-Led. His business was also destroyed during the Blitz.

But in 1941 Brenner and a long term associate and employee of Sampson Mordan teamed up to resurrect Yard-O-Lead. The partnership proved a success. Using as inspiration the designs of Sampson Mordan the writing implements were styled in the 19th and early 20th century fashion. This styling continues.

What I love about these pens is that you’re getting more than just a bit of resin with a nice nib. Each pen is hand made from sterling silver, and reflects the company’s heritage in fine jewellery. Heavy, distinctive and by virtue of being hand turned no two pens are the same. And should you think “all that glitters is not gold”, I can assure you they write beautifully.

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Final Boots From Cliff Roberts

I have written previously about the boots being made for me by Cliff Roberts, an old hand of Northampton shoemaking who started making his own shoes from his conservatory recently. Well, I finally took delivery of them this past weekend.

Cliff was kind enough to bring them down to London personally, partly to compensate for an inability to source a tool for securing the speed hooks, which had delayed the process by a couple of weeks.

I was immediately impressed by the quality of the leather, which was very soft and supple. In particular, the leather lining and suede in the upper half of the boot was especially malleable. The finishing was also impressive, with Cliff taking the time to put my initials, as well as a pattern of arrows, in the heel with tacks.

Cliff’s lasts are slightly wider than average for the various fittings, so my size of 8½ E and 8 F came up a little bigger than I expected. As Cliff points out, boots do need a little more room in order to get the foot in easily – and the high fastening ensures that there’s no chance of any slippage. It’s marginal, but I should perhaps have gone with a D and E.

This is one of the obvious drawbacks of having shoes made remotely: you can’t try on a range of sizes and pick accordingly. Then again, I have frequently bought the wrong size in ready-to-wear shoes in the past even after trying them on.

From a construction point of view, the beveling of the waist on the boots and the greater support for the instep both make a big difference: touches that remind you of bespoke shoes rather than ready-to-wear.

Talking of bespoke, Cliff is considering launching a bespoke business next year, with lasts being made by Springline and being used to make ‘sprung’ or ‘braced’ trial shoes that can then be tried on by the client, and used to adjust the last. Cliff has tried to make shoes direct from a last that has been created by scanning a client’s feet, but the fit is never quite right. As I wrote previously in two posts on finding cheap bespoke, others’ experience shows that bespoke shoes are more a question of trial and error. So Cliff’s service should work well – and after the initial outlay to have a last made (around £230) the price of the shoes would be the same.

Some pictures of the hand-bunking, inking and toe tacks below. I’m off to put the boots on again; they really are very nice.

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The Last Word In Accessorising Goes To The Pen

The strictures on what constitutes being ‘well dressed’ allow men a few items of apparel. These are:

-A watch;

-Cuff links;

-A tie clip –although that depends on who you talk to;

-Belts and braces; and

-A wallet

I would add a pen to this list.

The advent of chip and pin, e-mail and auto-signing documents have all but removed the requirement for committing pen to paper for most men. But that shouldn’t deter you from investing in a decent bit of writing apparel.

Some of you may spend your days signing off on multi-million pound business deals; a few of you may one day sign treaties of national and international importance. But whether or not your life takes such a path, the fact remains that the most important things a man ever does will still require his signature.

Whether it is penning a rare letter to a loved one or a note of condolence; signing that contract for your first job; the deeds to your first home; your child’s names on their birth certificate or putting your name to a marriage certificate, it becomes the embodiment of your own personal history and your time on this planet. As such it is something to pass on to your heirs and successors.

In my view a man who understands this truly possess style and flair, particularly in a world where cheap convenience makes it easier not to make the effort or indulge the expense. I haven’t worn a watch for years, and I can live without cuff links – although I prefer not to. But owning and writing with a beautifully crafted pen is one of the few old world pleasures left to modern men, we should embrace it.

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A Sorry Experience At H&M

As a blogger, I have developed something of a reputation as a high-street champion. It is not an unfortunate or accidental reputation; I make no disguise of the fact that I look for style pieces in a number of places that would make the hardcore tailoring fraternity blink.

While many save and splurge on grand items from vaunted style emporiums, I drop comparatively smaller sums, more steadily, at retailers such as Zara and H&M. As ubiquitous as they are, these retailers have impressed me with their flair, use of better-than-average materials and, most importantly, their prices: for the quality of design, the price is always palatable. I spend as little as some spend on a night out on several items from one of these stores and, though the delight in the bargain is short lived, I am largely satisfied with the longevity of the items I have bought.

My experience of the customer service, or indeed any of the ‘workings’ behind the scenes of one of these gigantic retailers, has been, until recently, rather small. Never had I needed to throw up the great curtain and un-complicate the mighty gears and levers that keep the machines churning. There had been no need.

The thing I already understood about H&M was that stock was uncertain – they get a batch delivery of a mixture of clothing items every single day. What I did not know was that this ‘batch’ changed not due to the demand of clothes in a particular store, or demand across a number of stores, or even if stock in one item was low – replenishing ‘low’ stock was the most obvious and most memorable reason for deliveries that I remember from working in a clothing store.

No, the ‘batch’ was simply an inexplicably haphazard selection of a variety of H&M’s clothing line. It could be a delivery of fifty jackets and hats that hadn’t sold a single unit; if they couldn’t fit on the racks, they’d be in the stock room until sale time when they were generally chucked for less than half price.

I had enquired about a suit; an all wool chalk stripe with a peak lapel and a matching waistcoat and trousers which I had planned to adjust in my own way – new buttons and turn ups. I was given the explanation about ‘batch’ stock and three five digit numbers with which I could contact stores nearby to see if they had the items in question. Having exhausted the list within an hour, with no success, I decided to write to H&M’s UK office – a postal and email address that was irritatingly difficult to find – in the hope that they, in their lofty position on the confusing ‘gears and levers’ tree, would be able to correct. My written letter received no response (no surprise there) but my email, which enquired about the availability of the item was, to my delight, deemed worthy of a reply.

However, any hopes of a response that began ‘Of course we’d be happy to locate the garments you desire…’ were dashed by the first line which read;

“H&M are not able to source any of our garments as we do not work with a computerised system due to a fast stock turnover therefore we are unable to locate stock within stores.”

Boo! What a great disappointment. Although somewhat expected, it was peculiarly exasperating to see what had been until now an embarrassed mumbling from H&M staff in hard and clear lettering. I was pleased to see that I had been correct in one of my expectations – the items I had enquired after were ‘current’ season and should be available in the stores for the next few weeks. The problem was that there were only 24 pairs of trousers and 85 waistcoats (not necessarily in my size) left in the distribution centre. The big setback was that the crucial element to the suit, the jacket, was ‘not being replenished.’ If I could locate one in a store in another location, by ringing around and quoting the five digit code, I might be able to find a pair of trousers and a waistcoat in one of the central London stores, although this was uncertain. What was certain was the great sense of victory I should feel if it all came together in the end for the search had been long and more than a little distressing.

I wrote back to the Wizard of H&M and asked if it was possible to pay for items over the phone, to then have them sent to me by post or perhaps to have them shipped to another store. Although this request seemed hopeful, on reflection it is actually quite reasonable – surely someone in their mythically massive customer service team should be able to organise this paltry request for such a persistent and faithful patron. To my great disappointment, this is the reply I received;

“Unfortunately this is not services that we provide (sic). However customers are able to place garments on hold for 24 hours to collect the garment in store.”

That was it. My special ‘call centre’ for the project, a spreadsheet of numbers and locations, was to be abandoned. Unless I planned to make an (expensive) train journey to Birmingham or Edinburgh there was not a hope in hell. Predictably, I rued my lack of nationwide friends and associates.

The experience, though remarkably unsatisfactory, has provided me with further elucidation on the issue of mass production and mass consumerism. Though I had expected, behind that great curtain, a crunching machine capable of altering a gear or two, instead I found a brick wall, with only a letterbox.

H&M will churn out the clothes by the million, throw them in the stores littered around the world but they’ll be damned if they know what they’ve produced or what they’ve delivered.

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