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.

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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.

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An Englishman in New York

Why does anyone in New York buy ties fully priced? I’ve been here a good seven or eight times in my working life, but the discounts at Century 21 and to a lesser extent Filene’s Basement never cease to amaze me.

The ties are carefully arranged into price categories, from around $30 to $60. It compares to full prices of around $70 to $180. At one end Van Heusen and a few names I haven’t heard of; at the other Ferragamo, Louis Vuitton and Ralph Lauren Purple Label. All are reduced by somewhere between 60% and 80%.

It must harm your impression of a brand that its most luxurious items are being sold at a very heavy discount, all year round. Why would you then go to the Ralph Lauren block of stores uptown and not balk at paying near to 100 pounds for a tie?

This discounting does happen in the UK. But it is largely in out-of-town shopping centres like the York or Bicester designer outlets. Somehow it’s almost acceptable if the discount stores aren’t in the same city. Plus, they are all still separated by brand, surrounded by their usual furnishings, shop furniture and advertising.

This could serve to undermine the brand even further – as it is exactly the same kind of shop you would buy fully priced items from. But instead it seems to make the experience more special, unique. The racks and racks (sometimes piles) of closely stuffed clothes in Century 21, on the other hand, just seem to cheapen the whole experience, to lower Purple Label and Vuitton down to the level of the cheapest high-street store.

This level of discounting often happens with women’s clothing out of season – in the increasing number of designer vintage shops, for example, and online. But women care far more about how up to date their clothes are. Fashion and its fickle seasons mean one would never buy a trendy piece from two years ago – it would look like it was two years old, and you haven’t bought anything since.

Even men’s clothes could be seen as going in and out of season. Polo shirts and cardigans, bright colours and drainpipe jeans, all will probably find their way into discount stores after a while, unwanted and so pushed off by labels more interested in the new season, only concerned with cutting their losses on the old stock.

But men’s ties? Apart from a slight variation in width, how on earth do these go out of fashion? Besides, you can get super wide Purple Label ties and super narrow Black Label ties on the same rack – everything is covered. The same discounts apply to handkerchiefs, socks, underwear, cufflinks.

So I’m sure I’ll be buying a few. Less because I want them. More because it seems too good to be true – there’s nothing like this in London and I have a slight suspicion someone might realise what’s going on at any minute and close the place down.

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Silhouette and Fit: Know the Difference

A suit with massive shoulders, tiny waist or short trousers does not necessarily fit badly. It just has a bad silhouette. It is important to understand the difference.

The shoulders of your suit, for example, may end exactly at the edge of your actual shoulders, continuing in one smooth line down the rest of the sleeve. They may, alternatively, extend an extra half an inch to an inch. The line of the shoulders may be square and straight; they may be concave, curving down from the collar and then rising toward the outer edge; they may even be slightly convex.

Any of these styles may fit perfectly. If the shoulders are to extend slightly beyond your actual shoulders, and have a square, boxy line, they will require extra padding and support. If they are to curve naturally and with a slightly concave line, they will need to be carefully aligned with the line of your own shoulders, lest these ruin that line.

The point is, these variations create a different silhouette. They do not necessarily fit better or worse than the alternatives. Silhouette is more akin to colour or pattern – it is a personal choice, but one that can still be made badly (or, to be more generous, unsuitably).

The relationship between these two continues around the rest of the suit. The waist, for example, may be designed to be more or less pinched, creating a more or less defined skirt. If the suit is designed to have a generous waist, but you buy a smaller size to try and achieve a pinched waist, the wool will ripple with complaint when you button up the jacket. You have confused fit and silhouette – in trying to achieve the latter, you have failed in the former.

It is also likely to fit worse elsewhere, as you are deliberately buying a size too small. Your shoulders will press against the sleevehead. The back will feel constricting.

If the suit were designed to have a pinched waist, the wool would be darted, with slivers of material taken out and sewn back up again. The shoulders and back would fit fine and you would have achieved your desired look.

Silhouette is about what a suit is designed to look like. Fit is about whether a particular size of that design fits to your body. Don’t confuse the two. Be aware of what the suit and its designer are trying to do. Then judge its fit.

- As an addendum, a few quotes from Nicholas Antongiavanni about silhouettes: “Designer suits may be gargantuan or minimalist. With these it is not so much their level of comfort that fails you but their lack of harmony. A jacket that fits perfectly but is ridiculous in silhouette is useless, even more so than a jacket tasteful and sophisticated in silhouette that does not fit; for in the latter case in may be altered whereas the former is always harmful.

“When he said to me that the Americans do not understand fit, I replied to him that the French do not understand the silhouette, because if they understood they would not wear such square-shouldered, box-hipped, skin-tight jackets. The greatness of the English and the Italians as dressers is caused by their silhouettes, and France’s ruin caused by theirs. And because of Americans’ obsession with fashion, many of these have spread to our shores.”

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Reader’s Question: The Deck Shoe

Tom, Hong Kong: Simon, where do you stand on deck shoes? I’ve seen them around and think they’d be a nice compromise between scruffy converse and brogues when wearing jeans or casual trousers. I grew up detesting them for being too boaty but quite like the look of them now.

I know exactly why you have that inherent distrust of the deck shoe, Tom. I have it too.

I don’t know whether this caricature will be familiar to those in the US, but in the UK the deck shoe is synonymous with a certain floppy-haired, rugby-playing, scruffy bloke of wealth. Whether that wealth be inherited or due to “Daddy doing quite well in the city”, the uniform is the same: rugby/polo shirt, oversized sweater, worn jeans and deck shoes. Battered deck shoes. With the laces perpetually undone.

As I have little knowledge of how exactly the term ‘preppy’ is used in the US, I shy away from saying that this character is necessarily that. He certainly wears Ralph Lauren (polo shirt with collar turned up) but there is nothing forward-looking about the style – it is lazy and, essentially, a mimic of everything he sees his peers wearing (as well as his Dad).

This man has no interest in clothes, and this turns me off the idea of a scuffed, maltreated deck shoe.

That prejudice stated, I also dislike the shoe because it seems lazy in itself. The thickness of the rubber sole, the inelegance of its waist and – especially – that thick stitching around the toe. It looks as though someone has wrapped two pieces of leather around your foot and then roughly cobbled them together (no pun intended).

As a result, I tend to like a slip-on shoe more the smoother its toe. I have nothing against the humble penny loafer. It is smoother than some and has done a great many Americans a service. But it tends to be worn by men with little interest in shoes. Not all are, by any means. But most. Worn by men that just don’t like lace-ups, and probably don’t really like shoes.

Driving shoes have thicker stitching, but they can work well as house shoes, as casual shoes – to pop down the road in. I have a pair from Massimo Dutti that serve well in this regard. But the slip-on I favour is smoother – the Harrow shoe pictured is obviously a well-made shoe. The tan Gieves & Hawkes slip-on is even better. I’m not a big fan of tassles, but it is obviously a lovely shoe. Berluti ones are beautiful.

I have a blue suede pair of slip-ons of this type that I bought in Bologna. And they work best sockless, with summer trousers, as many men in Italy are apt to wear them.

As you can see, Tom, this is largely a personal opinion rather than a reasoned argument. But if you want something between Converse and a brogue I would recommend either a smooth slip-on of this type or a driving shoe – Tod’s does some lovely ones in bright colours for summer. And given the weather in Hong Kong you will probably have far more opportunities for wearing them like this than I do.

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