Fashion Rolls in Its Own Muck

Apparently, there’s a war on. It’s a war of attrition, as designers from both sides throw model after model down the runway. They are battling for our wallets. The two entrenched sides are – again, apparently – narrow trousers and baggy trousers.

According to a feature in the Financial Times, on one side are Dolce & Gabbana, Dries Van Noten, Galliano, Antonio Marras, Vivienne Westwood and Giorgio Armanni. These apparently favour the baggy trouser, though I’m sure I’ve seen narrow suit trousers on D&G models just as frequently as wide ones. On the opposing side are Burberry, Roberto Cavalli, Daks, Costume National, Fendi, Prada and Marni. Though I’ve yet to try on a Daks suit that has narrow or cropped trousers.

Whatever the truth of it, this war feels like the fashion world rolling in its own muck. Having created a world that obsesses over people and brands, and insists on changing the hot new item every few weeks, fashion can now create its own little battles and stories, its own tiffs, face-offs and fights, all played out in an entirely artificial world.

The situation isn’t helped by fashion journalists. You can see them all crowding around the catwalks, all desperately looking for “this season’s trends”. They all have to go home and right exactly the same feature: what the runway shows mean you will be wearing (or should be wearing) next season. Because there are so many designers, with so many different ideas, a trend is hard to find. So journalists frantically cobble together examples from different shows, shoehorning one look into a trend. Sometimes journalists just give up – GQ’s coverage of the spring/summer shows went with theme of celebrating diversity.

Men’s suit trousers are the pinnacle of this self-involvement. Granted, trousers change over time. Jeans are narrower than they were three years ago. But suit trousers rarely change that much. Perhaps they lose or gain pleats, or cuffs. The rise has certainly lowered in the past ten years. But the idea that they are that affected by fashion is ridiculous.

Suit jackets are complicated. The number of buttons, width of lapels and padding of shoulders does change significantly. Ten years ago it was cutting edge to have four buttons. Today that figure is one. It’s not hard to work out what the man interested in permanent style should do: go for two or three. Equally with shoulders, lapels or vents – pick something that suits you (don’t go for a very natural shoulder if you already have rounded shoulders, like me) and stick with it through fashion changes.

But trousers aren’t complicated. They should be straight, not wide or skinny, and pleats/rise depends more on your figure than anything else. This (apparent) war just doesn’t affect men and their formal dressing at all. Ignore it and move on.

Pictures credit: men.style.com.

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The Alternative to Black Tie

Every year, I have to host four awards ceremonies. Three of these are in March, in quick succession. As a result, I have always hired black tie from the local Moss Bros. It never seemed worth buying my own, given that I would only wear it four times a year and one hire would do for three of them. Plus if I were to buy a new suit, there was always one I would rather have than black tie – one that I would get more use out of.

But this hired outfit was awful. Constructed from a manmade material designed to repel stains, it was stiff, shiny and may even have crinkled. And as it was off-the-rack, it didn’t fit. As men tend to notice more when something is too tight, rather than too loose, the jacket was far too large around the stomach.

To the rescue came Alan Flusser, he of previously recommended book Dressing the Man. In his section on dinner jacket alternatives, he tells us that the odd jacket was perfectly acceptable as black tie, as long as it maintained similar texture and structure to the full suit. The first obvious material was velvet, usually in black and worn with black wool trousers. His illustration shows Douglas Fairbanks escorting the Duchess of Kent in just such a velvet jacket, complete with white handkerchief and monogrammed slippers.

Now I couldn’t get away with monogrammed slippers, but a velvet jacket seemed perfectly possible. And as if to bless the discovery, I already had both black wool and black linen trousers. The black linen, if sufficiently ironed, might do very well at the two events held in hot climates – Hong Kong and Dubai.

So I conducted a short search of the vintage shops in Covent Garden, and discovered a lovely two-button jacket in Rokit. The shoulders fitted perfectly. The waist was far too large and the arms too long, but a quick trip to my tailor solved that.

The jacket itself cost £30, as did the tailoring bill. So for £60, the same price as two hires of a black tie suit from Moss Bros, I had a fully working outfit I could wear to all four events. Plus, I had a black velvet jacket that could be worn to parties, with perhaps dark jeans and a sombre shirt.

I include a photo of me at this year’s event in the ensemble. I think it looks good, but do please be kind with any comments.

(P.S. The other advantage of a velvet jacket is that your outfit is ever-so-slightly different to everyone else’s. There’s a certain satisfaction in that. Plus, the snob in me hopes one day someone will pick me up for not wearing correct black tie, and I can triumphantly quote Mr Flusser to him. For the sake of my humility, I hope that never happens.)

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Hong Kong Trend: Winter Cardigan

It isn’t very cold in Hong Kong, or at least not for long. Even in January the temperature ranges between 13 and 18 degrees Celsius (55 to 64 Fahrenheit). Right now, it’s a spring-like 20 degrees, and feels decidedly balmy to the Brit abroad.

But as far as the locals are concerned, it’s cold. When your summer regularly climbs above 30 degrees, accompanied by high humidity, 20 is cold.

The formal cardigan

The businessman in Hong Kong, young or old, typically resorts to a cardigan in this climate. The cardigan is dark, a blue or a black, occasionally a grey, is buttoned up and for the large part remains beneath the jacket. In this combination it looks smart, the rough wool of the cardigan contrasting nicely with the smooth worsted suit.

(A decent rule of thumb here as regards texture – a silk tie was traditionally smart as it contrasted with the heavy flannels worn by most men. As today’s suits tend to be worsted and ever-smoother, a woollen or knitted silk tie may achieve the same function.)

The cardigan has become such an object of fashion in the past few years that seeing men wear it as an everyday, smart item of clothing is a revelation. This cardigan is not brightly coloured, striped or ill-fitting. Unlike a fashion cardigan it is not too tight, as it is when worn by the punkish and presumably trendy. Nor is it loose and slouched, done up by one button if at all.

It is like a waistcoat, only a little more relaxed; a little less tailored, a little less formal. More apt, perhaps, for wearing with an odd jacket. And like a waistcoat, the cardigan in this ensemble is best when it is not fancy. Dark and buttoned, with the bottom button possibly undone, depending on the cut. Like the waistcoat it can also work well to keep a tie in order, though again this item should be conservative – what you add in number of pieces, take away in colour and pattern.

Until you are jacketless

The only disadvantage to a cardigan is that it inevitably looks scruffier when you take your jacket off. This is true of waistcoats to a certain extent – they are obviously designed to be worn with a jacket, avoiding the exposure of one’s shirtsleeves – but even more so of a cardigan, which can rumple and bunch more easily.

If you tend to take your jacket off as soon as you get into the office and rarely wear it again, I recommend you avoid a tie with such cardigans and opt for the slightly tighter fit to keep them close to the body.

The Hong Kong man, being a traditionalist, has none of these problems. And it’s bloody freezing – 20 degrees! So they wouldn’t want to go jacketless anyway.

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Hello from Hong Kong: The Final Suit

As I walk along Queen’s Road Central, I have an odd feeling. There appears to be a constant pressure across my back, from shoulder to shoulder. Something is resting on each part of it equally.

It is, of course, my new suit, and such is the feeling of having something that is actually made for you that it is odd to feel consistency of pressure; to feel that this stretch of cloth has been made to fit across this stretch of skin.

It’s quite a pleasurable feeling, as is glancing down and seeing my trouser cuffs rest just so on the top of my shoes, or checking the time and finding exactly an inch of cuff between my suit sleeve and watch.

(An additional benefit of bespoke clothing here – the shirt I had made has a left cuff ever-so-slightly bigger than its right, as I tend to wear a large watch. This was a suggestion of my own – again, research is the key, these tailors will only change something you tell them to change.)

Overall, a very satisfactory outcome. I find it hard to see why I would ever buy a suit or shirt off the rack again. Of course, there are little things that you immediately want to change. I spotted one when I went to pick up the suit: the jacket waist was a little wider than I like. This was changed for the next day (useful to have the time to do this if you can manage it). But even when I picked it up finally there were little things I noticed within an hour of wearing it.

The trousers, though flat-fronted, had the deep pockets and roominess of pleats – so there was perhaps a little more material around the trouser front than I would have liked. And though the waist of the trousers fitted perfectly, I regretted asking for no belt loops or any other adjustment mechanisms – side pulls of the type I have on other trousers might have been more practical in case I lose or gain a little weight over the coming months.

But these are small things. Things that can be changed and things that were largely my fault for not mentioning. For every one of these niggles in a bespoke suit there are 10 off the rack.

Over time, as I plan to go back when I return to Hong Kong in November (the mind already plays over the possibilities – overcoat, tweed suit, Prince-of-Wales check?) these additional adjustments will become second nature. I haven’t had suits made for me for very long. And, importantly, as Mr Tam now has my paper patterns in his files I don’t have to remember anything I previously specified, just the little improvements.

My thanks to Edward for his efforts. If anyone would like his contact details they are more than welcome. I’m sure he is not the best tailor in Hong Kong, but he comes recommended by me in a city where they are 10 a penny.

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The Unmade Suit

If I stand side-on to the mirror, it almost looks like a real suit. Of course, it only has one arm and the front and back panels are covered in stitching. But you can’t see that from the side.

I can’t stand like that for long, as Edward Tam is hovering with intent. I’m having my first fitting for a double-breasted suit in Hong Kong, and he thinks there is a little too much give up the back. Quick as a flash, he pins up a half inch, pinching it in a long dorsal fin.

I’m trying to remember all the fit points I should mention. And writing them down in advance is my top tip to you. I was arrogant and thought I wouldn’t forget any. I did. Most of the important ones came to mind, however – the break of the trousers (to my taste, so there is no break in the back line, just the front), the length of the jacket (my taste is a little shorter than normal, about in line with the middle of my thumb when my hands are at my sides) and the length of the sleeves (again, I like it a little shorter, with half and inch of shirt showing with my arms at my sides, over an inch when the arm is at my chest).

Interestingly, Mr Tam and his colleague were sceptical about the sleeve length. In Asia they tend to be rather longer, apparently. But they were happy with my demands and didn’t seem too unimpressed with the result. It is probably as important to be confident in your demands as it is to know they are correct.

Aside from not quibbling over sleeves, the best way Mr Tam showed his quality to me as a tailor was picking up on aspects of my body shape that I was already aware of. For example, I have wide but sloping shoulders. In many off-the-peg suits this has the annoying effect of letting the shoulders of the jacket droop a little, creating folds under the arm. Edward picked up on this when we discussed the “natural” curve of the unmade suit I had on – if the shoulder were any more unpadded, he pointed out, it would reveal my sloping figure and be uncomplimentary.

Edward got a mental tick in my head for picking up on that. And it is probably worth you bearing something similar in mind were you to go through this experience. Go into any high-end suit shop and ask the oldest member of staff for his advice on how a jacket fits. If he knows his stuff he will list all your pluses and minuses, making you fully equipped to rate your tailor.

The suit should be ready this afternoon. I’m rather nervous about it – particularly as the half-made suit I tried on didn’t have its deep purple lining. It might look awful.

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