The Future of Style, as Told by Hardy Amies

The previous Permanent Style posting described how Hardy Amies, resident of Savile Row and men’s style legend, saw fashion in the sixties.

In his book ABC of Men’s Fashion he described the narrow, high-buttoning suit of the period and his belief that, for practical reasons, that style would remain the norm. Another interesting aspect of this is that he believed future trends would follow this line, only to a greater extreme.

He was wrong, of course. By the end of that decade all clothes were looser, baggier, freer. The seventies would see such a profusion of wide lapels and flared trousers in suits that commentators at that time again felt confident in predicting that the new style was here to stay.

Amies described the style of sixties most succinctly in a caption to one of his illustrations at the centre of the book. It reads: “The complete man-present: forward-looking hat, high tab-collared shirt, high-buttoning suit, slim boots with raised heels.” The picture shows a man in a pale-grey, checked suit, with only the top two buttons of his four-button suit done up. The trousers are narrow and a little short, the boots shiny and black. His dark, knitted tie is matched by a dark pocket square (though as the photo is in black and white the precise colour cannot be discerned).

Opposite is the future, as Amies sees it. The caption reads: “The complete man-future: slim bow tie balancing the vertical line of the suit, high-buttoning cutaway jacket, extra narrow trousers tucked into calf-length boots.” The gentleman pictured wears a dark, pin-striped suit, with only the top two buttons of his five-button jacket done up. The bowtie is matched by a dark silk handkerchief. And, amazingly, he indeed has his suit trousers tucked into calf-length black boots in what appears to be suede.

(My apologies that I don’t have any reproductions of these pictures. If anyone has any suggestions as to wear I can get these to illustrate this posting, please tell me.)

Did Amies really believe that the future of formal wear was suits tucked into suede boots? Can you imagine businessmen today sitting in the boardroom, their suit trousers tucked into Ugg Boots? Admittedly Uggs would be too chunky for Amies, but it seems no less ridiculous.

The fact is fashions oscillate around a figure of Permanent Style, with the sixties narrow form at one extreme and the seventies flair at the other. One swing is followed by another in the opposite direction. (By this I mean long-term swings, those that last decades not years. Skinny jeans, for example, do not qualify. They are a seasonal fad, like cowboy boots or peasant skirts.)

Once enough men today have bought one-button suits, expect to see three or four-button versions on the catwalk. Designers have to come up with something that’s different, after all. And when those inventions seem to chime with the times, as boots did in the sixties and flares did in the seventies, they’ll become a decade-long swing.

The Logical Waistcoat Theory (Part Two)

(The first part of this posting (on Wednesday) bemoaned the fact that the suit had become impractical in most offices, with the jacket rarely worn. It is understandable, but a shame.)

Here’s my solution. It’s logical and practical; though obviously that doesn’t mean anyone will take it up.

The key is the waistcoat. Men don’t wear suit jackets because there’s no need in an air-conditioned office; the waistcoat will not make you too hot. Men don’t wear suit jackets because it can be uncomfortable to work in at a computer; the waistcoat does not restrict you. A man without his suit jacket can look scruffy if his shirt becomes untucked; the waistcoat keeps it hidden. Without his suit jacket a man’s tie can look untidy; the waistcoat keeps it buttoned up and prim. It’s hard to fault the logic.

So basic office attire could be a two-piece suit of waistcoat and trousers. A man can then wear any weight of coat over it when he goes outside. There is no need to put on both a jacket and coat (if cold), or leave the jacket on the back of your chair all day long (if hot).

Wearing waistcoat and trousers is not quite as flattering as a jacket. But it does lengthen the figure in a similar way, maintaining that long line of smart dark wool. Pinstripes can still be employed to add slenderness, in the same way as a suit (it is hard to see this working with trousers and shirt).

And for those who like to get involved with their suits, to understand tailoring and aspire to a bespoke lifestyle, waistcoats offer much. Many tailors will tell you that a waistcoat is one of the hardest things to make, a summit of the craft. It needs to both fit snugly to the body and remain flexible. It is probably harder to find a well-fitting waistcoat than a well-fitting jacket off the peg. Plus, Tom Ford loves them.

There are of course other solutions to the dilemma I posed. If your shirt has long enough tails and fits close to your waist it is unlikely to become untucked. Your tie could be prevented from flapping by a tie clip. But I do think the waistcoat solution has advantages, as it retains the smartness of a suit and remains within the menswear tradition.

So, wear a two-piece suit with a difference to work tomorrow. If anyone asks why just point them in the direction of this blog.

I will if you will.

The Logical Waistcoat Theory (Part One)

Men need a new uniform to adapt to air conditioning. Here’s a suggestion.

Let’s start with history and practicality. Suit jackets were never meant to be taken off. A man, no matter what his place in society, strained to have a clean collar and cuffs in order to appear smart. But these were detachable from the main shirt, which would be reworn for reasons of economy.

The maximum that was ever visible of a man’s shirt was his collar, cuffs and shirt front. For example, in Dickens’s Martin Chuzzlewit, the younger Chuzzlewit observes that many immigrants to America pack their suitcases with detachable shirt fronts – and have no real shirts at all. They maintain an air of respectability by having clean, white shirt fronts. They cannot afford a shirt, but no one will know they are not wearing one, because no one takes off their jacket.

The suit, with the possible addition of a waistcoat, was worn in its whole both for smartness and for warmth. The head-to-toe grey, blue or black was considered proper and smart – only a labourer or someone at particularly heavy work would take off their jacket (hence the association of being ‘in one’s shirtsleeves’ with toil). And only someone who was not afraid to get cold. The absence of central heating and air conditioning meant men wore a three-piece suit in heavy wool merely to keep warm.

Have a look at those old Hollywood films. How often do you see a well-dressed man’s shirt?

So, a suit from head to toe. Probably with long socks – both for warmth and for smartness again, to prevent showing naked leg and break that formal, dark figure. And the collar would be kept together with a tie, tucked into the jacket or waistcoat.

Today, if men wear a suit to the office they almost immediately take off the jacket. It would be too hot and probably uncomfortable to work at a computer with all day long. So they walk around the office in suit trousers, a shirt and possibly a tie. Without anything to tuck into, the tie may flap around unflatteringly. The effect is reinforced if the tie is loosened and the top button of the shirt undone. Plus, unless the shirt is very fitted, it will balloon a little around the waist.

If the man goes outside, it is likely that he will either put on both the jacket and a coat (in winter) or nothing at all (in summer). Either way, the jacket is redundant.

This redux of the classic lounge suit is often unflattering. Gone, for most of the day, is the waist-concealing silhouette of a well-made suit. That most attractive of outfits, which flatters many men like nothing else, is lost.

It is no wonder that many in the US have adopted a casual work outfit. If all you were wearing was suit trousers and a shirt, what’s the difference if you wear chinos and a shirt?

It is no wonder that putting a suit on to meet a client can feel a little artificial, like donning armour. And it is little wonder that many young men feel bored by a suit and prefer not to wear one (unless it is fashionable, as it has been for the past few years). But it is a pity.

(The solution to this modern workwear dilemma will appear in the second part of this posting, on Friday.)

An Exercise in Etro

Following the last post on Italian house Etro, here is some pictorial analysis of my fascination.

As much as Etro’s originality and quality can inspire, it is often the catwalk combinations that galvanise me. Take the first image above – a pale grey suit with purple waistcoat and coordinating tie, shirt, handkerchief. Now, as a whole this is too much. Some people might be able to get away with it – perhaps Italian eccentrics who happen to be heir to an automobile fortune. I can’t.

But like much that is thrown down the runway, it is not supposed to be copied. It is supposed to inspire. I have a sweater in a dark purple from Reiss. Up till now I have only worn it with navy suits or jackets. Perhaps I will try it with a pale grey – even brown, which this suit seems to tend towards.

Equally, I would have thought the colour too dark to be worn with brown shoes; yet it works well here. And the twist of the yellow belt: perhaps too much, but it does remind me of the contrasting colours (one primary colour’s contrast is the mix of the other two – so, yellow’s is purple).

The handkerchief is too showy and I don’t like the pattern. I don’t particularly like the tie or shirt either, certainly not together. But a similar suit tone with a purple sweater, perhaps over a blue-and-white striped shirt? That could work. And yellow would be good as an accent, in a handkerchief or even a belt as here.

The image and its colours inspire in a way that is rare in menswear.

The second image above points out how well rusty reds work with brown, though I’d never go for that tie or shirt.

The third is all about combinations of pattern. The suit, sweater, shirt, tie and handkerchief all have different patterns. But they work because the wide stripes of the sweater (and its strong outline) separate the suit and shirt/tie. Equally, the tie and shirt are a similar enough density of pattern to fit well together and to slip into the background. The colours (except for that yellow belt again) are not that extraordinary, but the patterns take it to another level. I wouldn’t wear it all, but it inspires.

The next image shows how well bright colours can go together if they are balanced (either the tie or the trousers on their own would stand out too much).

The penultimate combination demonstrates balancing the strong pattern of a suit with plain, background colours elsewhere.

And the yellow sweater just seems to work here. Perhaps it’s the implied yellow in the green-tinge trousers and vest, I’m not sure.

During this same season, Fall 2007, Calvin Klein was displaying grey tonic suits, with the occasional bright yellow. Armani had quilted vests and collarless shirts, but was basically black and blue. Both seem not only dull but unsophisticated compared to the density of colour at an Etro show.

Have a flick through the previous few years’ Fall collections at Etro. Try and ignore 2007’s floppy yellow hat. The rest might just inspire you.

I Love Etro

About two years ago I walked down a narrow street in London to visit a tailor that had been recommended to me.

I rang a buzzer on the street, which echoed somewhere on the second floor. After a couple of minutes I was buzzed up, out of the drizzle, and was led up a tightly spiralling staircase.

The tailor’s space was unassuming and sparsely furnished. But as I stood there being measured (to have a jacket taken in, having lost a little weight) I noticed a few brilliant suits among the racks of clothes lining the walls.

One Prince-of-Wales suit had a lively yet subtle lime-green stripe through it, with delicate, shell-like buttons. Another in navy had a light blue chalk stripe, wider than average but also fainter.

When I asked the tailor where they were from she came over a little glazed and pointed at a bag in the corner. Over a brown, swirling paisley was emblazoned the Etro logo – on a bright orange background, naturally.

“Oh, such beautiful suits,” she said. “When you have to take them apart every day you see. So beautifully put together.” She brought over a cashmere jacket with a check that reminded one of children’s crayons. “You see? Look at the lining and the canvassing!” I don’t know a lot about the structure of a suit now, and I knew less then. But the enthusiasm in her eyes was enough.

The tailor was Atelier Colpani (15 Avery Row, London W1K 4BF, and recommended), which does all the adjustments for Etro’s London store at 14 Old Bond Street. And that day my fascination with the Italian, family-run label began.

Now, Etro is a little quirky. You probably gathered that from the earlier descriptions of unusual suits. But there are consistently jewels in every collection, and many are conservative enough to suit anyone.

I own and treasure two Etro suits, one of which is that lime-green plaid. The belt I have in their signature paisley is probably my single favourite thing. But Etro can also be wide of the mark. Last year’s summer collection featured a rather unconvincing pirates theme. And a shirt with a pizza printed on the front. This summer’s Etropicalia theme concentrates on unusual weaves with every different material from raffia to straw. It also has too many suits with flowers printed on the back.

But when the Etro family get it right, you realise quite how dull every Armani, Gucci and Boss you’ve ever seen is. Those boring grey tonic suits, or the announcements of a new line from Giorgio with – shock – higher notched lapels.

You wouldn’t wear Etro head to foot. Or I wouldn’t. And you won’t like at least half of the stock. But the pieces you do like will truly be a breath of fresh air.