Odd Colour Combinations

There are a good few ways to stand out in a suit, almost as many as the chapters of a style book: cloth, cut, pattern, accessories etc. But one of the most rewarding and hardest to master is colour. It is so easy to get wrong – everyone can summon some lurid combination from his or her memory. I saw someone in a suit recently that had bulbous red chalk stripes on a grey/green ground. It was hideous.

Colour is also relatively easy to get right – blue suit, white shirt, blue tie; grey suit, pink shirt, black tie; grey suit, white shirt, almost any tie. What is genuinely difficult is a colour combination that is right but unusual. Something that stands out because it is not safe, and therefore is rarely worn; but that works.

Combining colours does not come naturally to many men. It is an artistic talent at heart, and one that few have pursued or developed. Most would ideally have a colour combination chart to refer to, but disliking such artifice, choose to re-wear the same few combinations.

I cycle to work most days, and keep a few suits and pairs of shoes in the office. So every morning I have to pack a shirt and tie, trying to picture how they will go with the suits, shoes and other accessories I have at work. It makes picking combinations even harder.

There are three combinations that I like particularly because they are different, and that I think stand out because they work. They are pink and green, purple and yellow, and blue and brown.

Pink and green works best as a shirt/tie combination: pale pink shirt, bright green tie. The tie I have is a sharp green polo tie, complete with small red insignia. I’m sure the red helps a little to harmonise with the shirt, but the pink and green themselves work wonderfully. Unusual, yes; but it works. I also have a dark green handkerchief with brown detailing that works just as well to complement an open-necked pink shirt. Red and green are of course contrasting colours, but they are too strong on their own to pair off well. With the red diluted into pink, it works.

Which segues nicely into purple and yellow, as they are also contrasting colours (for those who can’t remember art class, a primary colour’s contrasting colour is the result of mixing the other two primaries). Now purple and yellow are hard to match in a shirt and tie. I have one very pale yellow shirt that does work with a dark purple tie, but I think the two are best put together in bright but separated combinations – shirt and pocket handkerchief or socks and tie/handkerchief/shirt. Mostly I think yellow works best as the first of these pairings. Try a purple paisley handkerchief with your yellow shirt; or bright yellow socks with an otherwise sober purple tie.

My last combination is less unusual, but it is a perennial favourite. All too often I feel men reach for a drab or washed-out tie to go with their blue shirt – grey, black or a pale version of one of the colours above. Instead, try a brown tie, perhaps with a white stripe. The richness of the colour is unusual and draws the eye; the same works with a brown handkerchief (perhaps yellow/orange pattern) to an open-necked blue shirt. The same rule applies to brown shoes with a blue shirt, as is often said. The Italians like brown shoes they hardly wear anything else. Black is reserved for formal wear. Get a nice pair of chocolate Oxfords and you may find yourself doing the same.

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Thanks, and the Influence of Others

Thank you to all of you that took the time to respond to the question I posed in my last posting, on the best material for odd trousers – something between flannels and jeans. You’ll be pleased to hear that I found a good compromise in a pair of dark khaki cotton trousers from Zara. Not the most luxurious pair in the world, but then they are an experimentation still. The next pair may be made by Mr Tam in Hong Kong.

Cotton trousers are clean and crisp, yet light and casual enough to do without a crease, for example, and be more casual. This weekend, to use one commentator’s advice, they may find themselves paired with loafers. Perhaps even Converse, which are the only trainer slim and simple enough to work with trousers such as these.

The shoes and the accessories are as important as the clothes they complement. And given that my tastes are always screaming for an opportunity to wear a pocket handkerchief, everything else needs to run down the other end of the spectrum.

The responses to my question also highlighted a thought I often have – the surprising extent to which the people around us affect what we wear and what we think about what we wear.

This has several levels. First, working in an office will have its own dress code and expectations. In mine many people wear jeans. Senior management wear suits, but a t-shirt and jeans are perfectly acceptable in junior staff. I dress smarter than most, and give it more thought than most. But given the low average, the upper reaches of sartorial expression are probably inadvisable. I should have described these circumstances in detail in my question, as they affect the answers more than anything else.

Second, most people have insecurities and fears, no matter how small, about their clothes. Especially if they put a lot of thought into them. Every stylish man has moments he would rather forget in his past, and is a little afraid of it happening again. You check yourself in shop windows, tug at that handkerchief even though you know you shouldn’t, or straighten and tighten your tie. Confidence builds with age and experience. But it’s a long time to wait.

Third, other people affect you in subtle ways no matter how confident you are. Would you wear a handkerchief so often if everyone else did? Absolutely everyone else? You might like to think you’d feel gratified that everyone embraced a piece of clothing you love so much. But would it hold quite the same importance for you? And how about if no one else wore the same thing? Not in magazines, not across history – if it had no precedent, all of a sudden? Does it not almost entirely determine your impression of an item of clothing?

No matter how confident we are, what we see around us affects our more than we realise or would wish. The question I posed is one of personal taste, only to a certain extent. Fuddy-duddiness is a question of attitude, only to a certain extent. After all, we see what other people wear far more than we see our own outfits.

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A Request for Ideas

Given the obvious readership and interest there is in this blog, I thought I would throw a question out to the audience for the first time. I’m fascinated to hear people’s suggestions on a clothing situation of mine, rather than submit my opinions to you consistently.

I love suits and am happy to wear them much of the time. They fit in well to my business environment and are easy to highlight with additional touches – socks, shoes, handkerchiefs etc. However, I also like to experiment with odd jackets and trousers, for the sake of variation and for the added complexity that the patterns and materials bring – harmonising ties or handkerchiefs with the bolder patterns of hacking jackets, for example.

So far, so good. The problem is that these odd jacket/trouser combinations can easily tip into looking too traditional or flamboyant for my work environment. The unkind would say they can look too fuddy-duddyish. This is particularly true, for example, when I want to wear a tie with these outfits – perhaps grey flannels with a checked jacket, brown oxfords and a woollen tie. That definitely tips over into something out of place on one my age, and certainly in this environment. Even switching to a silk tie, or going for a silk handkerchief, is probably too much.

As a result, I often resort to jeans with odd jackets. Again, perfectly acceptable in my office and a good counter to the flamboyance of a woollen tie or a handkerchief. The jeans are narrow, dark and not too long. It works ok, but I constantly feel pulled towards the more traditional, the smarter options. I just find it more interesting.

Jeans work ok, but they feel a little like giving up. So my question to the group is: what compromise can I find between jeans and the more fuddy duddy odd trouser combinations?

Is the answer khakis or chinos that look a little more casual? I have noticed that fellow-blogger Winston often opts for pale pink jeans. Or are cords the key?

The classic American option is blue blazer with chinos or white ducks, but I don’t think that would work in a London office, at least not regularly. Or is the secret to avoid extraneous details when combining odd trousers and odd jackets, such as ties or handkerchiefs? (So the outfit, casual vs traditional, balances somewhat.)

This is not a question for the true traditionalists in the audience, who will probably tell me I should pull my socks up (literally, above the calf) and ignore any suspicions of the fuddy duddy. But that is not really my taste and, more importantly, is not really the work atmosphere.

I think combinations of odd jackets, trousers and various accessories are the most exciting and intriguing for men dressing today. They require the most thought and sophistication but also the greatest possibility of individual, startling success.

I will be fascinated to hear what others wear and what they suggest for me.

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How to Buy Luxury: Hermes

There is a saying that the most luxurious items you own will probably be those you wear least. While I can see why this may be the case (your black tie, patent shoes and dress studs are unlikely to be cheap) it is depressing.

I have always liked a little touch of luxury. But I am at heart a cheap man. So I go to every effort to eschew this rule and buy quality items that I will use frequently. The principle can apply to, for example, a work bag that you use almost every day. To your luggage. To one dark brown belt and probably one dark brown pair of leather oxfords.

If you are going to buy a luxurious suit, why not make it a mid-grey flannel one with two pairs of trousers? The jacket will always be useful to wear with odd trousers, even jeans (normal, worsted suit jackets never look right in this regard). And the flannel trousers themselves are the standard for odd, patterned jackets.

My latest discovery in this spirit is a reversible Hermes tie. Obviously, an Hermes tie is an aspirational item. But the printed variety never really appealed to me – there’s something about a grown businessman wearing flamingos on his tie that smacks of infantilism rather than elegance.

But this one, found in the Sloane Street store, is knitted silk. Most importantly, it is reversible. Twice. The two blades are of identical width, and each has one colour on either side. The brand offers various colour permutations, but the most practical – and the one I ended up buying – is black/grey/light blue/dark blue (see picture).

These are surely the four most useful solid ties a man can have. And while you can’t wear a knitted tie on more formal occasions, these are fewer and further between today. I end up wearing this tie once or twice a week, which is a lot considering that I don’t wear a tie every day.

It’s satisfying wearing something luxurious so often. As Will on asuitablewardrobe.dynend.com is fond of saying, the real value of an item is its price divided by the number of times it is worn, plus some multiplier for the pleasure it engenders in the wearer. Which makes this Hermes tie, despite being twice the price of any other tie I have ever bought, pretty good value.

(One last tip – if this sounds like a good idea then try and find the line of ties in duty free. I bought mine in Heathrow airport, and saving 17.5% softens the impact on the bank balance a little.)

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The Misunderstood Pleat

Pleats are useful if you wear your trousers high, or if you are overweight. Otherwise they are useless.

Traditionally, most trousers had pleats rather than being flat fronted. Usually two on either side, and usually outward-facing (meaning that the hollow of the fold was on the side of the hips rather than the fly). The pleat closest to the fly was deeper. The English often wore their pleats inward-facing, considering the way they fell to be more elegant as less likely to gape.

But this was because they wore their trousers on the natural waist. This is easy to find: it is above your hip bones; often around the level of the belly button, though this can vary from one person to another. The waist is normally the slimmest point on a person, which is one reason men wore their trousers there, and why jackets are nipped in there – to accentuate the difference in width from shoulder to waist. It is certainly why women wore their skirts on the waist, and why many women still do so today. Their jackets are usually nipped in more obviously as well.

Now if your trousers have a high rise (the length from crotch to waistband) and are sitting on your waist, they need to go out before they go in. They need to expand from this slim point to get up and over the hip bones. Otherwise they would be skintight from the waist all the way down to the middle of the thighs. Pleats are necessary. They enable this expansion neatly and elegantly, dovetailing back into the line of the trousers when width is no longer needed after the mid-thigh point.

But you do not need them if you wear your trousers on your hips (as most do these days). This is also easy to determine – your trousers sit on the hip bone. The skin has hard hip bone underneath, not squidgy stomach. Why some men have trouble telling where their waist is I’ll never know.

Pleats worn on the hips make your thighs look like melons. They create needless volume. Combine pleats with a sharp narrowing to the ankle, and cuffs at the bottom of the trouser, and you have the abomination of so many American khakis. The pleats give volume at the top of the leg. The narrow ankle accentuates this proportion. And the cuffs make your leg two inches shorter.

It is hard to see how, without wearing pedal-pushers, a pair of trousers could be less flattering. Except that Americans have done it – they finish off the ensemble with a large pair of white trainers. So the trousers puddle at the ankle as well, their line being entirely unsuited to falling elegantly onto ankle-supporting Nikes.

Pleats, again only if worn on the waist, can be flattering for larger men. They mean that their trousers fall straight down rather than going in first, highlighting a belly.

That is the limited, albeit useful role of pleats. Ignore anyone who says they just want roomier pockets.

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