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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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.)

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Reader Question: Examining the Fit

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.

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