GQ Style: An Intelligent, But Not Fashionable Magazine

GQ Style is an intelligent magazine. It contains erudite, original writing and is actually what it’s parent publication claims to be: the magazine with an IQ. It does not, however, live up to its own stated ambitions: to be the definitive guide to men’s fashion.

First, the erudition. Many of the articles in Man Alive, the central section of GQ Style, are headlined badly. But they are better than they appear. For example, “Apocalypse Now: Is it just me or is pop music as we’ve known it over” does not bode well (it is too clichés glued together). Yet Simon Reynolds argues convincingly that there is genuinely less innovation in music today, and then proceeds to prove that this doesn’t matter. That it is simply unrealistic to ever expect innovation to be consistent, and that music will benefit from reusing and reviewing old ideas, injecting a little originality every time.

Reynolds points out: “From dubstep to the new folk, a lot of today’s most rewarding music is based around the durability of tradition and the strength of folk memory. Iconoclasm and innovation have been supplanted by veneration and renovation. Interestingly, both ideas of the role of art were active in the sixties.”

Equally, Michael Bracewell’s take on the rise of modern art is both original and lucid. He argues that the attention now lavished on contemporary artists, and the money they generate, has created an “anxiety of influence”, spurring artists on into fresh avenues of enquiry. Rather than corrupt individuals and convince them that just submitting dirty beds will be good enough, “art has seldom been so well read in its own history and cultural lineage.”

So far, so good. But none of the Man Alive articles concern fashion. Or style for that matter. GQ Style begins with a well-written article by Charlie Porter (which inspired my previous blog on enjoying your fashion cycles while they last). But that’s pretty much it. There are several single pages highlighting individual trends – new length knitwear, spring trenchcoats – but the actual writing or insight is lacking. Indeed, each page resorts to random quotes to try an inject some intelligent comment. David Hockney apparently said: “When is the past present? When did the past end and the present occur, and when does the future start?” All very nice cod philosophy, but I’m buggered if I know what it’s go to do with Prada loafers.

There are a few scattered photo shoots, though disturbingly as many of naked men as there are of clothed ones. There is an interview with Nicolas Ghesquiere of Balenciaga. But that’s your lot, and you’ll have to wait several months for the next issue. It’s hard to subscribe to the idea that this is the definitive guide to men’s fashion.

One of the most enlightening pieces is actually by Tom Ford. But it’s about nakedness, not fashion. And there’s a decent interview with philosopher John Gray, by Will Self no less. But so little on actual clothes.

When will men’s magazines get over their desire to try and be about life, the universe and everything, and actually put something together about style?

(For those new to this column, this is part of a continuing search for a publication that covers men’s style intelligently and with the breadth of many women’s magazines. And no, for regular readers, I haven’t got to Borders for Fantastic Man yet. I am excited though.)

Examining the Fit of a Tailor-Made Suit

Pete, Hong Kong: When I’m standing in front of the mirror for my first fitting, how do I tell whether the suit fits or not? How do I know if the tailor has done a good job, and tell him to change something if he hasn’t?

As with the last post, here is a list of areas to examine. Check these things at the first fitting and the second. In fact, check them every time you put the suit on, as the tailor will probably be willing to change one or two things shortly after the suit is done. And it probably won’t cost much to change them long after the fact.

These tips equally apply to a ready-to-wear suit, and can help you decide which aspects of the suit to have altered.

All of these points are subject to personal taste and fashion. This is a description of the fit of a classic suit worn to today’s tastes. Its closest historical archetype is probably the Drape.

Shoulders: If the shoulders are too narrow for you, you will see the swell of your actual shoulder pushing against the material at the top of the sleeve. There may also be stretch lines running across the material and an indentation at the top of the sleeve. These lines can also be a sign that the sleeve is too narrow for you.

If the suit is too big, its shoulders will extend in a ledge beyond your own. To fit properly, there should be a clean, direct line from the edge of the suit’s shoulder to the edge of yours, just skirting the skin.

Collar: The collar of the suit, at the back of your neck, should sit flush with the collar of your shirt, leaving between one and two inches of shirt above the suit (depending on the height of your collar). If there is too much material across the back, the collar will stand away from your neck. If there is too little, the collar will be flush with your shirt and there will be folds running horizontally below the collar where the cloth is stretched.

(Tip: When being measured, don’t stand up artificially straight and tall. It may impress the tailor, but all your suit collars will stand away from your neck when you stand naturally.)

If you can, get two or three mirrors to look at yourself in. It is particularly useful if you can see your back – it is a roadmap of fit. The folds under the collar are mentioned here, but you will also be able to see unsightly stretch marks across your tummy if it is too tight there; if there are wrinkles underneath your arms this probably means the shoulders are sagging; and one long fold down the middle of your back demonstrates an excess of material there. It’s all pretty intuitive – just look for those wrinkles and wonder what they might mean.

Waist: The fit of the waist is very much a matter of personal taste, but there should definitely be an obvious suppression in the line of suit at your side, going in where your waist button fastens (middle button on a three-button suit, top one on a two-button). There should be no folds radiating from the waist button, which again show the cloth being stretched. And when you pull the waist button away from you, it should pull out easily an inch or two, but no more.

Beyond that, try walking around the fitting room and moving your arms. The jacket should feel comfortable (this will be helped by higher armholes). It should of course be unbuttoned when you sit down – but try doing this and make sure you would be comfortable typing at a desk when seated.

Most other aspects of fit were mentioned in my previous posting – sleeve length, trouser length etc. Add these to the checklist above.

Hopefully, you should be a relatively good judge of whether your trousers fit you around the waist.

The Italian Background

The generalisation that the English experiment with their shirts and the Italians with their jackets broadly holds, particularly in business wear. While the English tradition of checked and plaid wools is a fine one, it was always largely restricted to the country (or at least the weekend) and has died out slowly as fewer English men wore suits casually.

The Italians are more willing to experiment with suit cloth at every occasion. This necessitates a shirt and tie combination that makes no attempt to compete with that cloth – the Italian Background.

The Italian Background is simple: a plain blue or black tie on a plain blue shirt. (Occasionally the shirt will be white, but this can look a little funereal.)

The combination works well because a blue shirt suits most people more than white, and it fades more into the background; because a dark tie fades more into the background than a pale tie; and because the dark blue tie is the most similar in tone and harmonious combination with a blue shirt – without being too similar and evoking tone on tone.

But this is analysing the obvious. It works as the plainest and yet most sophisticated of supports to an otherwise daring suit pattern – or indeed odd jacket. It equally supports an adventurous pocket-handkerchief, gloves, hat or jacket. When trying to balance an outfit, the Italian would much rather tone down a tie than go without one.

Four examples are displayed here, all courtesy of The Sartorialist. The first is possibly the most extreme. The high contrast, double-breasted jacket stands out, but is supported effectively by an Italian Background and dark trousers. It even makes it possible to add a pointed handkerchief without appearing over the top.

The second example marries an Italian Background with a hat and bright coat, while number three includes a faintly ridiculous coat that needs all the help it can get. Notice the uniformity of dress in this second combination as well – with odd double-breasted jacket and spread collar. While this may be because they are both associated with the same clothing outlet, it shows the versatility of the Background.

Example number four brings out a particular aspect of the Background – its fruitful combination with beige or tan (yellow, essentially). It is no coincidence that every one of these pictures involves a jacket in some shade of tan. And the gentleman on the left in this example shows that the Background is the best choice for what could otherwise be a very hard suit to find combinations for.

If in doubt, go for the Italian Background. (Oh, and buy yourself a nice, plain blue tie.)

Two Tips on Ties

Here are a couple of tried and tested tips for tying ties. Apologies for the excessive alliteration.

I’m a fan of a nice, large dimple in a tie. Two reasons: I think it adds a certain lustre to the silk to be pulled in thus, and the added tension helps keep the tie in place, taut and a little pushed out.

I’m sure most are familiar with how, basically, to achieve a dimple (if not, please inform me in the comments section and I’ll do my best to describe it). However, I always found difficulty in achieving a consistent dimple in the middle of the tie. It would always verge over the one side and eventually, as a result, disappear. I also found that a decent dimple in the early stages of tying would seem to disappear in a similar way by the time it was tightened up to the collar.

So, two tips. First, lay out your tie on a flat, hard surface and estimate the two or three inches that pass through the knot during tying (perhaps hold it up to your body to discover this). Then, fold the tie along these two or three inches in half, with the front of the tie on the inside. Press gently along the fold with your fingers, or leave a heavy object on it briefly.

When you pick the tie back up again, there will be a visible fold down the blade. That will fade after a short while, but the lining of tie retains the fold. Because it is often a thinner silk or a canvas, it is more easily distorted. So when you next pull the tie taut, it will naturally return to that halfway fold, creating a perfectly placed dimple. The effect is also reinforced over time – the more a tie is tied with that dimple, the more easily it will return to it.

Second tip: always secure the knot and its dimple completely before pulling on the thinner blade to bring it up to the collar. Otherwise the dimple is likely to be loosened on the way up.

When you have pulled the wider blade under, over and down through the knot, let it hang for a second to pinch it ready to create the dimple. Then tighten the knot by pulling both the wider blade and the knot downwards – it is slightly counter intuitive to pull the knot down, as it will eventually go up again, but pulling it down thus will tighten it far better for the journey up to the collar.

One more tip, even though it does bring the total to three and spoil the alliteration: if your knot is a little too thin for your liking, try looping the wider blade over once more (in a four-in-hand knot this is) than usual. It makes less difference than you’d think, but just enough to satisfy.

An Englishman in New York: Cardboard Jeans

It’s not much fun wearing cardboard trousers. But it’s worth the pain.

This time last year I bought a pair of jeans from Jean Shop on West Broadway, New York. A friend had recommended the place to me, but to be honest I was largely taken in by the technical terms and stylish furnishing – piles of raw denim draped over rails around the shop, interspersed by various efforts in coloured leather: jackets, wallets etc.

As casual clothes are not my specialist subject, all the talk of Japanese denim, rinsing, raw wearing and dying oils went a little over my head. But the assistant claimed he wore one pair of these jeans every day of the year. That he had bought the pair he was wearing two years ago and never bought another. I think that might even have been the reason he decided to get a job there.

Most of the jeans sold are raw denim. This means that when you first wear them they will feel like cardboard – stiff, awkward and, well, crunchy. After a few days of wearing them in they will soften. After a few weeks they will feel comfortable and seem to fit really well. A year later they will be like a second skin.

The advantage of raw denim is that, unlike pretreated or prewashed jeans, the cotton adapts itself to your own particular shape and activities. It molds to you. This appeals to me as a fan of made-to-measure clothes generally – except that here the trousers adapt to you rather than being made for you.

An investment in a great pair of jeans also appeals to my thriftiness – one pair of classic, straight dark jeans can be worn with almost anything and won’t wear out for years. Jean Shop jeans aren’t that cheap – between $250 and $290. But then they’re not the most expensive either.

I’m wearing my pair today and have done half the time I’ve been in New York. Unlike some of my recommendations (I have yet to buy a suit from Suit Supply, as one reader pointed out. Though I am eager to hear anyone else’s experience) this one is fully tested. I went back to Jean Shop yesterday and it was just as cool – plus this time I knew a little more about the product, having done my own research. I bought exactly the same pair as mine (albeit an inch smaller on the waist) for my brother. I’m sure he’ll love them as much as me.