Stingy Always Pays Twice

Still gleaming over my recent Lardini find, I decided to order more clothes from Yoox’s Final Sale. I settled on three jackets and a pair of jeans, all by makers unknown to me. The prices were cheap, however, so I decided to proceed with the purchases, against my better judgment, and entered my credit card information.

When the items arrived, my excitement turned to sadness. First jacket by a company called Tonello, while in my size, was at least a size too small; no alterations would allow it to fit properly. The second jacket by a company called Deuxieme, suffered from the same problem. I am no body builder, but these Italian fashion designer labels are not meant to fit grown men. The third jacket by Messagerie was too roomy and will require at least $50 worth of alterations (sides taken in, extra fabric taken from the back, faux buttons opened), where the original price of $55 is no longer enticing. As a result, I decided to sell the jackets. I will keep the jeans by Patrizia Pepe, but this is the first and last time I will buy fashion jeans. It will take a while for me to be able to comfortably wear them in public without thinking of Bruno, but my fiancée likes them, so the worst I can do is to make her happy.

What made the matters worse is that the sale of my merchandise was final.  I am out $312, no big deal, but I could have spent the money in a wiser manner. The “likes” of Messagerie, Tonello, and Deuxieme are not exactly household names, and I should have been much more discerning as a buyer rather than rely on cheap prices, especially when there is a perfectly fitting mainline Zegna jacket available at my local Saks for $299.

Overall, this experience taught me a valuable lesson: don’t buy clothes because they are on sale but buy them because you like them and they will fit you well. Hence the saying my great grandmother always used to say resonated in my brain: the stingy always pays twice.

Links: Small Wardrobe, Ivy League Look, Double Pocket…

• In praise of the small wardrobe: the fewer the worthier. (ivy-style.com)

• This blog is the answer to prayers of Ivy League Look admirers. (theivyleaguelook.blogspot.com)

• ‘Why do some suit jackets or sport coats have a double pocket on one side?’ (valetmag.com)

• A documentary on Italian tailors. (menoftheclothfilm.com)

• Classic grey combination. (gentlemanscorner.com)

• Cardigan as a sport coat. (wasp101.blogspot.com)

The Coat Project 4

I had the first fitting last week for my bespoke overcoat – a traditional polo coat in camel hair, with the addition of a full-length pleat in the back that can be adjusted depending on what is worn underneath. (See previous instalment here.)

Earlier in the week I had seen a very similar model in Larusmiani of Milan. But though that had a full-length pleat, it was sewn together underneath the belt, which was not adjustable. Full marks for style, not so much on the practicality.

In an English September still enjoying 23-degree heat, the coat felt like a duvet (even with one arm missing). While the camel hair is very soft and has a lovely handle, it is also spongier than cashmere and can more easily resemble a tough (though luxurious) blanket.

Normally, tailors would make the coat one-and-a-half sizes bigger than a customer’s suit. My tailor Russell at Graham Browne had gone for just one size bigger, yet it was still a little large around the waist even on the smallest setting. I put this down to the extra material of the pleat; we took quite a few tucks in the cloth and it will be ripped down and recut for a second basted fitting.

The coat was also slightly longer than I expected, but I think this was an optical illusion created by the slight flare Russell had included, to make sure it was comfortable to walk in when fastened on the smallest setting. We took that in a bit too.

The split sleeve is a tailoring skill that is nice to show off, with the shoulder seam joining the sleeve seam to form one continuous line. But I think it also complements the style of the coat overall, something that will be particularly shown by the raised seams once the coat reaches its next stage.

I was interested to see that the canvas extends down the whole length of the coat, from chest to bottom seam. Apparently that not only adds shape but is essential for the lining and front seam to affix to. Most ready-to-wear coats will not include a full-length canvas, but rather a fused cotton layer from the bottom of the chest downwards.

Next basted fitting at the beginning of next week, though there is likely to be little to report except our struggles to get the fit right with the pleat. Perhaps just some nice photos.

Review And Launch Party: Sharp Suits

Tomorrow (Tuesday 29th) is the launch party for Eric Musgrave’s new book, Sharp Suits. It’s being held at Richard James’s premises on Savile Row – the proprietor also lending an introduction to the book.

Sharp Suits itself is a very welcome addition to the literature on classic men’s tailoring. There is precious little of it about.

Alan Flusser dominates the field, with his most recent publication, Dressing the Man, a primer for everyone interested in classic menswear. Indeed, it’s so good that I stole from it for the title of my blog – the book is subtitled Mastering the Art of Permanent Style.

Beyond Flusser, there are idiosyncratic works like Nicholas Antongiavanni’s The Suit and Nicholas Storey’s History of Men’s Fashion. The first is a job pitch that is entertaining but feels the lack of illustrations; the second is an English barrister’s rather particular opinion on clothes, and isn’t really much of a history. There are others, but really Flusser is the only one I would recommend without qualification. Until now.

Musgrave’s book is superb and should really be titled A History of The Suit; it would have been a more accurate title, though perhaps less appealing. Sharp suits takes the reader through several, from different cultural viewpoints. The first is a basic outline, from Charles II’s adoption of the Persian vest (and hence the three-piece suit) through to Armani and Prada. The others look at suit design, royalty, the Italians, the Americans, the French, rock stars and move stars (in that order).

Each chapter is lucidly and sharply written – as you’d expect from an ex-editor. But the personal touches are the brightest aspect of the text. Much of the factual timeline I already knew, but hearing about Musgrave’s commissioning of a brown, double-breasted suit from a rather frustrated tailor at Burton’s, or his recollection of an eighties suit made from cellophane, adds a lot of needed colour.

The other reason to buy this book is the sheer volume and quality of the images. Flusser, as more of a ‘how to’ book, is illustrated by swatches and examples. Other works lack good photos at all. Indeed, Sharp Suits is probably most similar in aim to Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen’s Men of Fashion, a radio show earlier this year that presented a cultural history of menswear. But that sorely lacked pictures. Musgrave’s book makes up for it in spades.

If anyone asked me what primers they should read on classic menswear, I would recommend Dressing the Man and Sharp Suits. One is a guide, the other a history; one definitely American, the other more European.

Sharp Suits is available from Amazon and Waterstone’s now at these links:
Amazon
Waterstone’s

The Next Step: The Buttonhole

I recently attended a screening of Oliver Parker’s take on The Picture of Dorian Gray. Parker, having directed two of Wilde’s plays previously, turned his Wilde-loving hand to this notoriously tricky gothic horror with relative ease. Like most of Fitzgerald’s work, Wilde’s only novel is exceedingly difficult to translate to the screen as most of the poetic beauty in the work is only possible with Wilde’s language and observation. What works on the page, and in the mind’s eye of the reader, does not necessarily work on the screen. Nevertheless, it was rather entertaining and artfully conceived – the critics will bay, no doubt, but as Wilde stated in the preface to the novel it matters not: all art is quite useless.

To live for a useless thing would irk most men of a sensible nature. Most people do not like to be told that they have no purpose or that what they do has no value other than decoration. The artist comfortable with the uselessness of his own artistry is a happy fellow, but a rare one. Wilde himself pursued and commented on art and vilified its manifestations as vehemently as he celebrated them; fashion was one of his favourite subjects for attack. While wittily cynical about the artless side of fashion, he was often effusive about its potential for beauty; “A well made buttonhole” he quipped “is the only link between Art and Nature.”

If a well-dressed man is rare, a well-dressed man with a buttonhole is almost unheard of. Men are somewhat terrified of flowers. Even when they procure them for a lady love, they walk with an embarrassed shuffle, horrified that someone would see that they have purchased such extravagant tokens of affection. They hand them over with a puzzled frown as if their gift was possibly radioactive and they gripe with a rueful sneer when the expensive blooms begin to wilt. Men are mercilessly practical; beauty that inevitably dies is scarcely worth the purchase. However, as Dorian Gray teaches us, some beauty is more precious because it fades. “The world is yours; for a Season” spoke Lord Henry.

I rather like that buttonholes, impressively inexpensive from the right florist, are not eternal. I like the fact that they wilt and die. Wilde was right; they are the coming together of Art and Nature. They bloom with the majesty of Michelangelo and wilt with more tragic splendour than the Bard’s finest lines. Their purpose is not at issue; their value is unquantifiable. It’s strange that some men consider they are entirely useless in the context of dress when they themselves adopt silk pocket squares that will almost certainly never be used for the purposes of a cold or even the tears of a shoulder-leaning young lady. There is plenty that is useless about a gentleman’s attire, adding a purely decorative flower will not denigrate the ‘utility’ of the ensemble further. However, if utility is your chief concern in matters of dress these words will mean nothing to you.