Style Icon: Andre Benjamin

You know the glossy man; the high-cheekboned, slick haired, brilliantly attired chap sat on the steps of some enormous Rhode Island mansion. Looking vaguely pissed off, impossibly wealthy and handsome to the point of vulgarity. His Fair Isle sweater, club stripe tie, rolled-up coloured trousers and saddle shoes are perfect in colour mix and context. A moment of exquisite beauty captured, many might say.

Of course, the reality is that these images – like the still life of the silver screen – are creations of fantasy and dreams. Men of such youth and high conventional appeal don’t swan around with linen pocket squares and silk bow ties on grand estates, musing over their gargantuan fortunes. As soon as the last camera has clicked, the lighting is disassembled and the set dismantled; the glossy man returns to his dressing room to remove his preppy clothing, ruffle his smoothed down hair and return to his Diesel jeans and D&G t-shirt. The whole tableau grinds down with a disappointing decrescendo, like the whirring demise of a carousel at the close of the fair.

No one believes that men dress like the glossy man. He is the unicorn of menswear. Certainly, plenty of men, older men particularly, borrow elements from such scenes. The tie perhaps, or the saddle shoes, but generally in a more conservative fashion; generally sober and sensible; generally without the Kiwi green punch or the purple pizzazz.

Andre Benjamin on the other hand does it with all the punch and just the right amount of pizzazz. He does it with charm, sophistication and energy – most importantly, he doesn’t look pissed off when he is doing it.

Famously down to earth and genuine, Benjamin is a talented man with an eye (and an ear) for artistic creation. Known variously as André 3000, Dré, and by his given name of André Lauren Benjamin, he is a fantastic expressionist of sartorial possibility; brilliant colours, a mixture of tailored and casual items, fearless experimentation that seems to pay off each and every time and a great sense of the importance of vintage cuts and style. He wears bright bow ties, a grand array of hats and mashes it altogether for playful, entertaining, attractive and mature ensembles that betray a natural creativity that, not so long ago, he decided to explore and exploit.

For Benjamin is not only a noted rapper, singer/song writer, actor and dandy-about-town, he has started his own brand, Benjamin Bixby, which after an extraordinarily preppy premiere (think Ralph Lauren meets the ‘Hey Ya’ video) has quickly matured into a vintage-inspired clothing and accessories line with a healthy dose of funk – avoiding the stuffy, starchy clichés of similar brands. There is the occasional gratuitous ‘B’ logo but Benjamin’s offering, so clearly bearing his mark and his ideas, is generally tack free.

His style is in the checked plus-fours, the tweed jackets worn with the bright green polo shirt, the tongue in cheek pith helmet and the double breasted blazers; he is one of those people I most admire in style terms. A seeker and an appreciator; you can envisage him searching for ideas in unlikely places, trying something because he saw it in a Leyendecker drawing or an old postcard, wandering through little shops in Paris and Rome without pomp or fanfare, just looking for the next thing.

Cad & The Dandy Suit Review: The Bespoke

James and Iain are determined men. Ambitious too. You might even say they were daredevils. For what was once a fledgling tailoring company that measured customers in West End, City and Docklands offices for suits made overseas, Cad & The Dandy has evolved into a full service tailoring brand that not only makes suits fit to a customer’s peculiar shapes and sizes but one that also, within reason, accedes to various wills and whims; with a flagship shop near the Royal Exchange, a berth in Savile Row and roaring trade, Cad & The Dandy are one of the most talked about successes of tailoring.

The first time I reviewed a Cad & The Dandy product, a little over a year ago, I was reviewing a company still in its infancy. It was a made-to-measure double-breasted suit, tailored overseas at one of the tailors that C&D had sought long and hard for; a reliable cutter that could be trusted to deliver a quality finish time after time. The result was highly satisfactory for me. For James and Iain, it was momentarily satisfactory but they thought, as they always do, they could do better; pride and satisfaction subsided, hunger for improvement increased.

While trade has been good, I get the impression that James and Iain themselves are never content; once one level has been achieved, they cast themselves off into that great ocean, sailing towards the horizon seeking perfection. Perfectionists are not content people. They are seekers, discoverers; daredevils indeed.

My recent fitting at Cad & The Dandy for one of their top flight ‘Full London Bespoke’ suits was a new experience. Having been measured by John at the shop in the City, a man who seems to have been born with a pin in his teeth and a chalk in his hand, I now went for the first of three or four fittings at C&D’s Savile Row rooms. The comparison between the last Cad & The Dandy product was already stark – for the first suit, there was one fitting; the finished article was delivered and small adjustments made to perfect the fit. At this stage the suit, a blue flannel chalk stripe with a double breasted waistcoat, was basted; fragile and covered in white stitching, the fabric was nevertheless magnificent.

At this stage, I made sure that I was satisfied with the aesthetic of the suit – “The lapels” I commented as John examined my shoulders “are fantastic. I love the width.” John looked up and acknowledged my approval; any alterations or suggestions are certainly better made at this point in time. I also confirmed that there would be lapels on the waistcoat, as I had requested; these are added, I was informed, at a later stage. As I slipped off this cobweb of a suit, I felt a humbling gush of embarrassment for the craft that was being employed for my benefit; my insignificant frame, my bony back, and my lopsided shoulder blades were all receiving attention. Slight touches here and there, pinning and gentle brushing of fabric; there is nothing like the experience of receiving such a fitting to make one feel as a King; a complicated mixture of pride and frivolousness.

Iain, ever present throughout the fitting, informed me it would be a good few weeks till the next stage; “John’s got a lot of hand stitching to do now.” As the suit should be nearing completion, although still in a physical state that allows for adjustment, it will be more interesting to review. I will be keen to compare the feel of this fully canvassed, hand-stitched C&D suit with the simple, but nonetheless very elegant, made-to-measure that I already possess. For the purposes of immediate comparison, I plan to wear the latter to the next fitting. James and Iain promised me that this new product is the fruit of their considerable labours; they said if I was pleased with my previous suit, this one will exceed all expectations. I look forward to the result.

The Art of Travel

As a nation of travellers, the English have a rather controversial reputation. While there are some who like to pretend that the age of the elegant Englishman abroad is still upon us, those whose heads are not buried in sand know that it died long ago; we are known as a country of tykes and chavs, a sunburnt hoard of tattooed, football-shirted hooligans who swig beer from cans, shout obscenities in public places and uglify the natural beauty of the places we infest. Of course, not all Englishmen are like this. Not all of us demand a Full English breakfast at all hours of the day; not all of us leave cigarette butt-filled Carlsberg cans lying on Spanish beaches and not all of us dress in such a manner of sweaty horror that is so conspicuous and so dreadful to behold that locals hardly need hear us speak before they have whispered knowingly; “Huh. English!”

Consequently, the more reserved, less conspicuous and, shall we say, more appropriately attired Englishmen are met with a degree of surprise by hostelry management and locals alike. Indeed, travellers from any country that has become a byword for inelegance, should they wish to combat such perceptions, would do well to consider following the example of these persons. As my grandparents demonstrated when they stood at the gate of their house, waiting for the car to Southampton, dressed smartly in cruising gear; when you travel you are unofficial ambassadors of your country.

‘When in Rome…’

Part of the fun of travelling is immersing yourself into a culture and a style unlike your own. This does not mean you must disguise yourself as a local, simply adopt an item or a practice that seems to be practical or appropriate for the surroundings. For example, rolled trousers and driving shoes are appropriate in southern Italy but might look out of place in Finland. Additionally, pale linen suits and a panama look splendid in Marrakech but in Berlin, even in summer, slightly odd. Some of the best examples of this adherence to climate and location can be found on the silver screen; try A Good Woman, The Talented Mr Ripley and Death in Venice.

Notre Dame is not a gymnasium

The most significant change in travel attire has been the adoption of gym gear; it seems a default choice for many, even those who dress smartly in their own environment, to stuff a suitcase with enough sportswear for a tennis tournament. The point, apparently, is that it is more comfortable to wear sweats and trainers than anything else. I do not agree. If the shoes you buy are uncomfortable, you are buying the wrong shoes; if you think track bottoms are the best thing for sightseeing, you can’t have tried linen trousers. Smart clothing is comfortable if you buy well. Trainers are soft and squidgy but most of the trainers worn are designed for specific purposes – running or racquet sports – hence the go-faster stripes, flashes and abominable aesthetics.

Comfort above all

The point I most appreciate from those who call me too much of a traditionalist is that people wish to be comfortable when travelling, not bound by the conventions of their offices. I couldn’t agree more; comfort is paramount. However, this does not mean that style must suffer. It is no discomfort to add a little linen pocket square to an ensemble; no discomfort to don a light blazer on a chilly evening; no discomfort to wear a pair of smart linen shorts. A female companion once said that my travel attire sometimes made her a little uncomfortable – wearing a seersucker jacket to lunch apparently made her perspire a little more profusely – however it had virtually no effect on me. Practicality is not a substitute for smartness; comfort, though paramount, can be elegant.

Sartorial Love/Hate: White Jeans

“Eurgh!” the women bleated, contorting their faces as though in receipt of an unpleasant smell “White jeans on a man? Awful!” Being a man who wears, and enjoys wearing, white jeans I was rather put out. Never a man to back down from a conflict I asked why, in the wonderful but also rather terrible world in which we live, men in white jeans should be the subject of especial disgust. White being an increasingly common tone for attire, particularly in the spring and summer months, I was curious as to the distaste for white denim. Was it the case, I asked, that women in white denim caused similar feelings of revulsion? Apparently not. It was not, they meandered, “…something about them getting dirty” it was that men belonged in dark trousers; “If a male friend of mine tries on a pair of white jeans, I reject them immediately.”

White trousers have also been the subject of debate on my own blog where some have commented that I should not wear them in winter or, irrelevantly, “before Labor day.” Firstly, a bright, rainless winter’s day is a perfect opportunity to wear white trousers or denim and secondly, not being an American, ‘Labor Day’ is about as important to me as the breakfast of the tenant at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. What I am interested in is style and, believe it or not, I happen to think that white trousers and yes, white denim, are handsome, striking and if worn correctly, flattering. White reflects heat and light which is why it is used so enthusiastically in the warmer periods, making it a sensible choice too.

The problem my companions had with jeans was unfathomable but I could only conclude that they had not seen them worn properly. Unlike classic indigo jeans, I believe white denim should be worn in a fitted style – baggy legs, baggy seat and excessive length are bad enough attributes without adding the eyecatching brightness of white. The second problem is that men, generally, wear jeans in a very casual context – T-shirts, trainers, hoodies etc. Again, adding such items to an ensemble is counterproductive; trainers in particular make almost any outfit look repulsive. White is a colour of respectability and nobility. Clean white cloth was one of the clear differences between a gentleman and the rest. It has always been worn by the wealthiest patrons of male fashion who, particularly in the early twentieth century, paired their white trousers with blazers and buck shoes.

Jeans are certainly more contemporary but that does not mean they will look wrong in such a context; a smart navy blue linen jacket worn with a sky blue shirt, rolled-up white jeans and brown driving shoes is a practical and stylish look for a warm day – a look utterly ubiquitous at Pitti Uomo.

What’ll It Be Sir, Patterned Or Plain?

One of my elderly relatives gave me some excellent advice in relation to ties; “The misconception” he said “is that ties need only complement the shirt, not the suit.” He advocated that shirt, tie and suit needed to be considered alongside each other to achieve the most satisfactory results. “A suit” he continued “is not an overcoat – it’s not just something you throw on to keep warm.” Flow and harmony is paramount when looking at the torso of a suited gentleman; this triangle of supporting elements must be carefully constructed – a brilliant shirt and tie combination will be undetectable if the suit clashes.

One of the most important things I have learned is that complete plainness, however consistent, is dull; no wonder that modern politicians rarely stray from the plain white shirt, the plain unpatterned suit and the plain satin-silk tie. This combination lacks any kind of character and renders them bland enough to appeal to a vast cross-section; a French collared blue striped shirt with a foulard or Club stripe tie would be far better companions for a suit lacking any ornament. Plain suits yearn to be played with.

A loudly checked suit benefits from the calm of a plain poplin shirt but plainness can be limited to that; the tie could be a foulard, Club stripe or even checked. It is possible to avoid plainness entirely, depending on the style of the checked suit – a checked or striped shirt can add to an attractive ‘riot’, as long as they are subtle and do not attempt to compete with each other.  A striped suit, pin or chalk, need not avoid a patterned shirt; stripes with stripes is a dashing combination and a club striped tie in sober colouring looks in perfect harmony with a striped suit.

Patterned shirts with French collars are a perfect foil for strongly patterned suits as they add a cool splash of white twixt the patterns and, lest we forget, the tie should offer some sobriety – a plain woven or subtle foulard would be an ideal choice, particularly if a pocket square offers a subtle pattern of its own. The key thing is not to hide good shirt and tie choices beneath an insignificant choice of suit; as stated, plain loves to be played with, and patterns get along together very well provided there is a sobering chaperone accessory that supervises the ‘noise.’

Plain, plain and plain is not ugly, but it is not particularly attractive; rather like the new glass block buildings that pop up over London, there is a coolness but no intrigue. A ‘triple plain’ is what I call the ‘Lego suit’; inoffensive but lacking. A little pattern goes a long way. A lot of pattern could lead you astray, but if managed properly, could create not an ensemble of three incoherent parts but a harmonious and characterful whole.