Gatsby Style

It ranks as one of the great works of American literature; one of the first ‘Great American Novels’ and the absolute dernier cris on the documentation of the Jazz Age. Though in my opinion it is not his finest work, it is still a wonderful yarn and it is the 180 pages for which Scott Fitzgerald is best known. In fact, it is so American a tale; the birth, life and death of the famous ‘American dream’, the tragedy of money and the fragility of frank and honest love, that I feel, as an Englishman, my ‘across-the-pond’ perspective is unwelcome. However, I take solace in the fact that Gatsby was indeed, ‘an Oxford man’; in the same way that Fitzgerald had intended when he was young. Poor Scott, he had to ‘settle’ for Princeton.

Although he had a great love for his country, Scott was somewhat European in taste. Moving to California caused him distress – he loathed Hollywood and found little inspiration there, preferring the quiet of the Deep South or the buzz and gentility of New York. He made frequent visits to Europe, holidaying with the Mark Cross-owning Murphys at Cap d’Antibes and propping up the Ritz bar with Ernest Hemingway in Paris – he was a literary boulevardier content with being an American export.

In much the same way, Ralph Lauren, who designed the men’s costumes for the 1974 film production of The Great Gatsby starring Robert Redford, though also an ‘all-American’, shares an affinity with F.Scott Fitzgerald for certain things which qualify as classically English. The sport of polo, despite its undeniably Indian past, has strong associations with the British elite who colonised the country and, appropriate to the heritage of the clothing, Ralph decided his brand should be marketed as such. And though Scott may have adored American football, he was fascinated with European systems and traditions; perhaps a reason why characters such as Amory Blaine and Jay Gatsby, received, or were intended to receive in the case of Amory, English educations and perhaps why the marvellous Jay Gatsby has clothing sent to his West Egg mansion all the way from the distant metropolis of London at the start of every season.

As far as costuming goes, there was surely no one more appropriate than Ralph Lauren, who himself dreamed Gatsby dreams, once writing in his school yearbook of his simple desire to be ‘a millionaire.’ What I liked particularly about his clothing in the Redford film was his use of colour, and the way in which Gatsby was differentiated from the rest; he wore the clothing of the period, but he wore it in his way consistent with his uniqueness. Tom and Nick were more honestly American in their delivery but Gatsby seemed to belong to one of the typically Fitzgeraldian fantasies detailed in the short story, The Diamond as Big as the Ritz: white and pink suits, daring candy colours and a mirror-like brilliance.

In the still of the three of them, standing next to the two motor cars, there is heavy symbolism in the costume. Gatsby, in his pale pink linen three-piece suit, is being regarded with a sneer by the scion of old Chicago money, Tom, whilst the poor and rather disapproving Nick seems to exhibit mounting pains with his own neutrality. There is no doubt that Tom regards Gatsby as vulgar, “Mr Nobody from Nowhere”, and yet we empathise more with Gatsby’s charming naivety than Buchanan’s dissatisfying breeding. Lauren captures this sentiment brilliantly by clothing him in a beautifully cut pink suit – such audacity is consistent with his cavalier derring-do and combat heroism, and his swashbuckling attempt to prize his true love from the arms of another man. On other occasions, Lauren stylishly captures Jay’s vulnerability by wrapping him in a silk scarf and blazer; cold and wintry in colour and style, in strong contrast to the brazen ‘candification’ of some of his splendid suits.

What is also impressive about Lauren’s clothing is that he manages to remain true to the period but still capture the Gatsby of our imaginations. Although, indubitably, there is a slight fattening of the tie, lengthening of the collar, widening of the trouser and polish of the bow tie, historically, the combinations are accurate. I myself am no scholar, but the seemingly inescapable 1970s touches are there for all to see, as is the wonderful attention to detail such as the mother of pearl cuff buttons or the double breasting of the waistcoat. For me, the real master touch is actually the product of the combination of Redford’s acting and Lauren’s tailoring; in all his splendour, the appropriate irony is that Gatsby, though he, in the words of Daisy, “always looks cool”, is ever so slightly uncomfortable in his clothes. When he is alone with Daisy, or visiting Nick in the pouring rain, he is unbuttoned and frank; more in common with the penniless bond trader than the extraordinarily rich polo playing Tom.

The only sadness of the whole affair was that Ralph did not receive the credit he fully deserved for his vision. The lion’s share of the applause was directed at Theoni V.Aldredge, a veteran of the costume design industry, nigh on aristocratic as far as the Academy was concerned. Symbolic to the end, this mirrored Gatsby’s own vain hopes of recognition and even his tragic death at the hands of a careless and frightened establishment.

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Sartorial Love/Hate: Tone on Tone

I find it incredible how small and insignificant things can produce polar and often extreme responses. A jar of Marmite or a liquorice log might have one person salivating whilst another begins to retch; there is, very often, little middle ground. For these two famous comestibles, most people will stake their allegiance to one side of the battlefield; they are classic examples of things to love or loathe.

I have discovered, in my social circle, there is a similar response to various items of clothing that I have worn. One friend points in revulsion whilst another states their admiration – neutrality in relation to a few of these items or styles is not often expressed. The first ‘style’ of discussion which I find has provoked such strong sentiment from those of my acquaintance is the style of ‘tone on tone.’

Tone on tone is perceived as quite a modern style: eschewing the classicism of contrast in ties and shirts, jackets and waistcoats. In fact, the truth is that tone on tone has been done many times before and centuries before this one. White tie and tails, the evening formal wear of yesteryear, is a fine example. Though the chap wears a black tailcoat and trousers, his waistcoat, shirt and bow tie are all white. And, in turn, this all-white ‘bib’ echoes the evening dress of the late 18th and early 19th century when men wore white neckties with white shirts and white, or perhaps even ivory, waistcoats; the fun to be had was through the use of different materials of different textures or patterns. Since the mid 20th century, when black tie replaced white tie as ‘formal’ evening wear, wearing contrasting colours has been favoured and it became the classic standard.

When tone on tone became popular again in the late 1990s, it looked mightily refreshing. Shirts and ties looked youthful once more; the ‘smart’ look became heliotrope shirts and ties, together in harmony. However, whilst it was certainly done well in a few cases, it was also done very badly indeed. I remember the early programming of ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire’ when Chris Tarrant wore ghastly combinations of silver on silver and bright blue on bright blue – it was a look that became synonymous with tacky game show hosts. ‘Chavs’ began to wear the tone on tone look to weddings and evening functions; both shirt and tie exhibiting a terrible glossiness. This was the final nail in the proverbial coffin. To tone on tone they had ‘done a Burberry’ and this is perhaps why many of my friends do not like the style.

However, for my other acquaintances, capable of seeing the merits of tonally identical layering, there have been high points. In the 1998 film ‘A Perfect Murder’, Michael Douglas wore numerous combinations of tone on tone and this is a perfect showcase to illustrate the importance of texture when combining colours from the same hue pool. The evening waistcoat is of patterned silk in contrast to the plain tie and shirt, echoing the fashion of the mid to late Victorian period when men tended to allow their waistcoats to be the most extravagant and elegant part of their dress. Some suede was used in the manufacture of the waistcoats for Douglas which, texture wise, contrasts dramatically against the shine of the woven ties and silk shirts. The other important thing to note is that this particular exhibition of the look concentrates on piling together tones from the same stretch of hues rather than putting exactly the same colour on top of each other. This makes tone on tone much more fun, and also, more aesthetically pleasing.

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Valentine’s Day with Style

It’s coming. It’s the day many sensible people dread and an occasion on which singles are, no matter how occupied and workaholic they may be, made to feel really quite single indeed. Restaurants inflate prices, flowers bulge from the racks at the local shop and chocolates spill from the shelves. It’s a day, in the late winter calm of February, of sudden chaos. A boyish and naïve Cupid, attempting to wrestle with everyday life, throws what should be a normal 24 hour period into chaos.

Offices reek of perfume, red hearts pop up on Google, ‘secret messages’ are sent in an attempt to avoid work, workers leave early to get home for a cosy evening in or prepare themselves for a fabulously expensive night on the town. Unlike Christmas, where there is at least an attempt at a Dickensian feeling of ‘goodwill to all men’, St Valentine’s Day, or V-Day as I ominously name it, is actually quite a selfish and indulgent occasion. People hope, either secretly or blatantly, for missives of adoration, gifts and pecks on the cheek.

Men tell their wives they love them, affect an uncharacteristic generosity and all in hope of looking forward to several rounds of naughtiness later on; women don lacy underwear to feel desired, gorge on chocolate and then ask their husbands if their rump is too liberal in size for their little black dress.

It is a day which must surely involve a fantastic amount of dishonesty, or at the very least gross embellishment, for even the most amorous of couples might be crossing their fingers during delivery of some Valentine’s Day ‘lines’. The reason for such exaggeration is simple. Brutal and uncomfortable honesty is simply not done on V-Day; one should learn the art of game playing and pursue perfection rather than truth, if only for this particular February date. Playing the game coolly is the style man’s choice – it’s the James Bond choice, or the Steve McQueen choice. It should be your choice.

Surprise is one of the most intoxicating emotions and since V-Day can be one of those occasions on which the grass becomes considerably greener on the other side of the fence, keeping your partner on their toes by introducing a little change or two can do wonders for what could be, for long term partners, quite a hum-drum occasion.

If you’re one of those men more inclined to ‘minimalism’; an extra kiss, perhaps a new t-shirt with the jeans at dinner and a ‘Reduced to clear’ single rose then this could be an occasion to push the boat out a little more. Bond never dons t-shirts for dinner and he goes nowhere near discount racks for gifts. At the risk of inviting comments like ‘It’s about the way people feel about each other, not the gifts!’ I must stress that it is important not to look like the winner of the Cheapest Person of the Year competition. Yes it’s a Hallmark swindle, yes it’s hideously commercial, but it’s a chance to show how un-Scrooge like you can be.

It seems like it’s one of those occasions to pay more attention to the object of your affection and, of course, it is – but many men forget about themselves on V-Day; haggard, scruffy and tired, they stumble into the cripplingly expensive Michelin-rated establishment and their faces drop even further when they see the prices and then the missing handbag. Give yourself a bit of time to prepare and if you’re going straight from work, give your face a dashed decent splash and for heavens sake take a change of clothes: there’s nothing more unedifying than the sight of a pair of farty, crumpled trousers wandering off to the toilet.

If you are dining out, don’t layer up too much; think of a twentieth century Byron. This should mean a perfect Clooney-esque white shirt, unbuttoned at the top with a sharp and rather fitted jacket and trouser combination. Add a tie if you wish, but adding a blood red or cream pocket square is decoration enough for this classic look. Even if you are dining at home, put on a clean shirt and a pair of smart trousers; it’s a special occasion, so enjoy it.

If you’re planning on spoiling your object of lust or devotion, avoid the stampede for the plain old red rose. They are pleasant, but they are surely one of the candidates for a pictorial insertion under the dictionary definition of ‘hackneyed’; go for lilies or orchids. Chocolates are best served with a nod to quality rather than quantity; a man in possession of a style nous shouldn’t be purchasing a massive ‘bumper value’ box of vegetable fat-stuffed supermarket tat. Choose a smaller but more select amount from good chocolatiers such as Godiva or Leonidas.

The style man should also remember never to overdo it; purchasing gigantic teddy bears will never cross his mind, nor will parting with cash for anything heart-shaped and for goodness sake, never ask ‘What would you like for Valentine’s Day?’ Surprise them with your remarkable self-assurance and purchase a fragrance they haven’t tried for spring; keep it fruity and fresh. You never know but, for the night, they might just think you’re Cary Grant.

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Spring Shoes

Despite the fact that springtime in London, though it sounds full of promise, is more likely to be wetter than a drowned rat, I think the best thing to be is optimistic. It might be truly splendid when the daffodils come to line the pathways in St James’ Park and ‘Nature’s coronation’ is upon us once more. When spring is really spring, there is nothing to beat it; the catharsis is unmistakable, youth shines anew. With all the commotion of re-birth, it seems appropriate to adjust footwear for the season. Unless it was particularly wet, thinking forward, footwear for the brighter months should be light and, forgive the pun, incline you to put a ‘spring’ in your own step.

Plimsolls

Footwear has come a long way, especially in terms of comfort. It is possible, apparently, to wear things that feel like walking on air, or walking on water, or pillows or whatever a man may desire. However, few of these footwear choices have the attraction of style. They are manufactured, chiefly, for casual wear though their original designs were intended for use in sporting activities.

‘Sneakers’ or ‘trainers’ are forms of footwear I just cannot bring myself to wear. Despite the attractions of comfort, their ugly shapes and inelegance can ruin outfits. For years now I have worn an alternative that I discovered when looking through cardboard boxes of old school clothing: plimsolls.

Whereas once it was possible to purchase several inexpensive pairs from the local school outfitters, because of the current massive trend, they are frequently sold out. The trend has had its benefits; more and more designs are being produced with an emphasis on ‘retro’ shaping. Whereas trainers from the likes of Nike and Adidas are bulky and substantial, plimsolls are slight. They offer precious little in the way of support but they are still comfortable and youthful shoes that effectively ‘de-dust’ the dustiest of outfits.

Wear with slim-fitting, short cut denim or with white trousers for something rather ‘Brideshead Revisited’.

Spectators or ‘Co-Respondents’

In England these snappy shoes are named ‘co-respondents’. In divorce law, a co-respondent is a person charged with misconduct with the petitioners spouse and it is for this that the shoes are named. ‘Ladies men’ were known to wear them and their distinctive twin-colouring earned them plenty of attention in even the darkest hotel corridor. Americans call them ‘spectator shoes’ and though, since the 1930s, they have always been around in a number of specialist stores, they are rarely seen on the streets. Admittedly, they are rather daring and the connotations with cuckolding are unlikely to have made them favourable with the older generation. However, they are also rather splendid and the spring, season of love, is a fantastic time to stretch them out.

Wear with smarter, plain trousers or smart chinos.

Tasselled loafers

These shoes are fantastically popular among the young, upwardly mobile Mayfair set. The sight of impossibly tall, impossibly thick-haired young chaps kicking around Berkeley Square in chalkstripes and tasselled loafers is like watching racehorses trotting around the paddock ring at Ascot. They are very traditional and despite the jovial tassel, certainly veer towards more formal clothing.

However, it’s jolly fun, and very English, to wear them with classic indigo denim; cut short so that there is no touch between the jeans and the leather.

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Style and Sartorial Alchemy

It is apparently a truth that when I am asked the meaning of my words, I take on an intentionally sonorous tone of voice; I gesticulate slowly and I become irritatingly professorial.

Someone considerably senior in years recently asked me exactly what I meant by indefatigable. I was sufficiently shocked that a person of age, education and experience was indebted to me for an explanation of a pretty ordinary word in the jolly old English language. I was also asked by a friend, in close confidence, what the meaning of a certain girl’s words were; my knowledge of feminine vocabulary is scant and so, though I tried, I was able to offer little comfort. However, my most Mammoth of ‘meaning’ tasks came last week when someone asked me exactly what I understood style to mean.

Normally armed with a portmanteau load of explanations and pithy clarifications, I was alarmingly devoid of an appropriate knee jerk response; a sign perhaps that I haven’t the foggiest idea what it actually means. Or perhaps, I thought, it is something that requires quiet contemplation and a little devotion of time and thought. Earnestly, I formulated ideas and theories and established a central pillar of belief that the true meaning of style is resourcefulness.

It’s rather like one of those fables, teaching the value of utility through a poor old man making bread or the performance of the quite impossible art of alchemy. With every resource and consultant in the world, a man can effectively purchase ‘style’. The greatest tailors and cobblers are at his command to manufacture the most splendid creations that come to their imaginations. But is he necessarily a stylish man? Arguably not.

His admiration of style and his embracement of it is certainly a mark of taste but, as my wizened grandfather told me, style does not belong to everyone. He likened it to art in the sense that true artists actually belong to a minority; a small and rather elite group who cannot help but create art. Their entire being is devoted towards its creation, every moment of their lives affected by an inner compunction to display their flair. Despite this undeniable faculty, the greatest of artistic assets, as far as he was concerned, was not talent but patience and a willingness to learn.

These are definite qualities of the true style man; for one who can take fashion rags and form elegance exhibits certain patience: patience perhaps with his own bank account, patience in relation to the meagre surroundings, and patience for the inadequacy of the high street store.

I do not possess sufficient patience in this regard; I am notorious for my exasperation and intolerance. Having said that, I am awfully willing to learn; from the input and influence of others and from my own mistakes. Breathtakingly broadly-speaking, I am more likely to become excited about innovation and utility rather than what I call ‘painting by numbers.’

This is perhaps a rather undeserved title for what is actually real sartorial awareness; interest in style brings tens of thousands of readers to these columns every week and if there was no need for the sharing of knowledge, my words would be valueless. However, given a few basic materials, an artist can produce magic – the same can be said of a true ‘style’ man.

This is not to say that there isn’t value in knowing where to purchase the best shoes, or who makes the finest looking jackets; far from it. Having style is about choosing the right garments; it is about the right cut of trousers and the ‘best department stores.’ There is no discredit in adapting without invention, and there is a rare and undervalued excellence in assembling knowledge and using it effectively.

Nevertheless, to me, the chap with every resource in the world, with merely the finest clothiers money can buy, possesses only a nodding acquaintance with style. There is no intimacy in the relationship. There is certainly no disgrace in his approach and there should be no automatic condemnation simply because he is able to afford what others cannot. After all, every artful style creator would wish for the clothing budget of an oil tycoon. However, sartorial alchemy has always impressed me considerably more than mere costuming.

When my grandfather was teaching an art class, providing the students with inexpensive gouache paints, one of them plucked up the courage to approach him and tell him it was impossible to paint anything; the paints were quite simply, not good enough. He took the palette from the young imp and inside half an hour painted a splendid landscape in some style to the silent amazement of the watching students, proving, rather smartly, that though some resources may be lacking in quality, or perhaps completely devoid of individual worth, there is still the possibility, with patience and an open and imaginative mind, of producing art from them.

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