Rare Moment: Double-Breasted Waistcoat

It is always wise, I find, to revisit and reassess our convictions from time to time. The words ‘never’ and ‘always’ are a little overused and misrepresentative as they are impossible to qualify. Recently, I wandered into Gieves & Hawkes with a friend of mine. The last time I had gone in, the store was intimidatingly empty, the stock overpriced and dull. The glorious window display belied a remarkably uninspiring interior; never again, I thought, will I judge a book by its cover. My recent trip could not have been more different.

To begin with, I was not drawn in by a deceptively grand window display but from a general curiosity and a desire to gather ideas. I had expected the same ‘store in decline’ offerings and was, instead, very pleasantly surprised; jumping from rack to rack I repeated continuously ‘Now, this is a lovely fabric’ to my companion who became rather bored with my monotone and wandered off to the high priced, high end racks of suit ‘sets’ – jackets, waistcoats and trousers. Flicking through a selection of classic blues and greys we chanced upon a peak-lapelled grey window check suit in a soft but substantial English wool. My companion was unmoved and, after I had shown my approval, remarked that he was not a fan of checked suits. Despite this, I pulled the item from the rack and suggested that we have a look at the waistcoat.

‘And I think we’ll find that it is…double-breasted!’ I exclaimed euphorically. My friend had not even allowed me to finish before he had interjected; ‘Wow’ he said ‘you really…didn’t expect that. It’s…really nice.’ It was indeed. A shawl collared double-breasted waistcoat, it was completely unexpected but entirely fitting; it was a rare moment of unforeseen perfection. There was something in the way the jolly checked wool contrasted with the formality of the double breasted option; I immediately imagined it with a cornflower blue shirt, a paisley tie and a gold-chained pocket watch. It was merely an attractive suit before the jacket was opened and the waistcoat revealed; now it was the suit.

Other suits caught my eye; a pleasant grey on blue chalk stripe with brown buttons and a Prince of Wales checked double-breasted, again with brown buttons but not even the classic beauty of these items could divert from the distracting and charming incident that had affected us both. On leaving the shop my friend remarked that the double breasted waistcoat was, from now on, the choice for him as I considered the suit in its entirety; the lapels had to be peaked, otherwise it would not have worked and it was not merely the ‘double-breasting’ that was ‘arresting’ but the humour of the check and the waistcoat together. As rare as this style of waistcoat is, it was the combination that made it rarer still.

Leave a Comment

GAP Losing The Battle With Inditex

It was fitting that the new Pull and Bear and Massimo Dutti stores, both part of the gigantic Zara-powered Inditex group, should have moved into the same relatively pretty, white-façade building on London’s Oxford Street that GAP used to occupy. Although GAP now occupy, and have done for some time, a rather glassy flagship a little way down the road, the polishing of this West London gem of a building – a rarity on mostly modern Oxford Street – by the company that overtook the GAP group as the world’s largest clothing retailer is so suitable that it reminded me of those stories of conquest and colony; when triumphant soldiers marched through the palaces of the conquered.

When I had last entered the building, the GAP store had occupied two rather dingy levels. Light wooden floors, hopelessly outdated, rarely creaked with the tread of constant custom – the newer, larger and lighter GAP store on the street was attracting more business. I only really ventured in for the sale stock, which was usually plentiful; racks and carousels of shirts in my rather unpopular XS size and the odd jumper and jacket. Aside from that it was a rather depressing affair; hoodies, masses of socks and jersey gym wear. It was only a matter of time, I thought, before this GAP is sacrificed. The irony of the sacrifice is that in giving up their lease, GAP handed the prime property, and therefore greater presence in the English capital, to their fiercest rivals.

Inditex have splashed on this retail space in characteristic fashion; Pull and Bear, a trashy, unappealing-but-bound-to-be-successful retailer of denim, printed t-shirts and other flotsam, occupy one half of the building. Inside there is a dark, industrial atmosphere – something between a factory and a theme park ride. It’s well laid out, spacious, offers seating (shock, horror) and, from my time lurking around the entrance, was drawing a good deal of interest from passing shoppers.

The same was true of the gleaming Massimo Dutti store; staff were conspicuously obsequious, racks were not unattractively loaded with stock and overall there was the sense you were entering a store of grander pretensions. In addition to the improved interior, the white façade has been well maintained and the promotional stickers and signage have been kept to a tasteful minimum.

Inditex, far from playing catch up with the older and more established GAP group, are consistently one step ahead. Although as behemoth retailers they are constantly compared, aesthetically, there is little comparison. GAP offers rather simple, functional clothing; chinos, jeans, knitwear, functional shirts, gym wear and the occasional belt. Inditex, through all of their outlets, do their damndest to offer ‘design’ at a lower price; they take more risks with their stock.

Why has Inditex come out on top? Analysts often point to their quick and aggressive expansion (which contrasts to GAP’s absurdly ponderous methods), their strategy for locating stores on the best streets in town and, in Zara, their rapid stock turnaround. Others also cite the improved store experience, the appeal of a European brand and the successful, internal manufacture-to-distribution process.

The thing that doesn’t get mentioned as often in reference to this retailer war is that Inditex has managed to capture the imagination of the GAP-weary shopper. We’ll always need chinos but once we have them, is there anything else in the store that draws us in? The lifestyle sold in GAP is, and has been for a long time, far too ‘young’ for the way we live now. I have a friend who told me he shopped once at GAP last year for ‘bumming around clothes’ – Zara he looks in almost every other week. The reason? ‘Bumming around clothes’ hardly require constant replenishment. Another friend, who boasts he hasn’t crossed the threshold for five years, quipped ‘Don’t mind the GAP.’ The shopping public have fallen out of love. And it shows.

GAP menswear, now relegated to the top floor of the Oxford Street flagship, is very often rather empty on a Saturday afternoon. It looks tired, worn and, like an old heavyweight title holder, rather slow and deliberate. GAP fans of my acquaintance champion the fact that their clothes last. Inditex, by comparison, have said, rather unblinkingly, that Zara clothes are really meant to be worn ‘a few times.’ Both of these assertions are somewhat inaccurate as I have Zara clothes that are well-used and in excellent condition and some GAP clothing that has, in my opinion, had to be placed prematurely on the scrap heap.

There is no doubt that as Inditex’s tentacles have spread far and wide, and its grip on the high street clothing market has strengthened, it has moved into the Primark/H&M realm of increasing supply, reducing price and declining quality but GAP has lost the laurels it once rested on. It needs to rethink its flagship brand. While it still has the muscle, and the greatness of its name, it should try to recapture the great portion of the market it has lost.

Leave a Comment

But The British Are No Better…

At the beginning of June I wrote an across-the-pond view of North American wedding wear customs. I wrote of the ‘contradiction’ of the wedding couple’s attire, and how ‘inappropriate’ it was to wear evening clothing to morning and afternoon ceremonies.

My thoughts appeared to resonate with some of the readers: one remarked that the clothing choice was partly to do with the ‘utilitarian’ theory; that a wedding requires a ‘dressed up’ choice and black tie = dressed up. Another commented that the origins of the American nation (“We are almost all descended from the European lower class”) are partly to blame.

I have thought that, on reflection, I have been a little bit rough on this point. I do not retract my view that black tie at daytime weddings looks wrong to me but I do feel that one who resides in a glass house should not throw such stones. As immaculate and appropriate as some are attired in the UK for a wedding, a huge number of the ceremonies and receptions that take place in churches and marquees, between Land’s End and John o’Groats, are a far cry from the image of sartorial perfection that this nation often likes to portray.

The average British wedding is utterly depressing. The people are generally wonderful but the ghastly clothing that the seemingly uncaring grooms’ parties choose to don is astonishingly awful. Why is this? For what possible reason could a nation of such history in cut and cloth be clothed in such cardboard-waistcoats, synthetic tailcoats, vomit-inducing matching cravats and, usually, inappropriate accessories and footwear? Wedding hire. The sad fact of the matter is, most people rent their wedding clothing and while this is perfectly acceptable, and by no means a modern practice, it does mean that for one of the most formal occasions in your life, a major turning point and a new beginning, you’ll be wearing the most generic of the generic; a suit made for a market, not for a man.

How many times has the wedding-going Brit seen that lilac, burgundy or golden cravat? That matching brocade waistcoat or those overly long trousers with one too many breaks? I for one have seen these things too often. It’s hardly surprising, given Moss Bros. market dominance, that on wedding days churchyards and chapels up and down the country are littered with their coats, trousers, waistcoats and accessories.

However it is not just ubiquity which I find rather distasteful. My biggest gripe with this practice is that the aesthetics are entirely off. The jackets are not only made for someone in your chest size category but usually for men of varying heights, arm sizes and shoulder width. Even on the photogenic models in the catalogue, on whom a mankini would look partially flattering, they look utterly rigid and shapeless.

The ‘cardboard’ waistcoats are exactly that; as stiff as a board. The pattern is almost always a woven paisley or brocade – something akin to grandmother’s bedroom curtains – and the sheen is breathtakingly vulgar. The cravat, now so hackneyed, is no daub of elegance but a blob of tack that looks more like a used napkin. A pocket square that matches the cravat and the waistcoat in colour and texture sits in a contrived, starched fashion in the breast pocket. The worst thing about such a common combination? Better options are available at the renters. Although there is great variety available, it seems that most wedding parties in Great Britain end up choosing the same damn thing.

If I were advising a groom and his party on attire I would instruct him to hire one of the classic (non-Edwardian) cutaway morning coats, if he does not wish to purchase his own, and nothing else. He should always purchase his own trousers (cut to his length), his own waistcoat – single or double breasted – and his own tie or Ascot (which doesn’t have to be plain) and pocket square.

The waistcoat should not be of a high break or have any woven pattern. Dove grey is the most classic and masculine choice. The groom should also differ slightly from others in his party; a different tie, pocket square or colour of waistcoat would make him stand out from the rest. Finally, it is likely that he and his party possess better shirts in their own wardrobes than the wing-collared things they try and foist at the renters; always a turn down collar for ties and always a wing collar for Ascots.

Leave a Comment

Are You Going Out In That

I am often asked this question; “What do you wear when you go out?”

Why am I asked such a question? Chiefly, because my particular inclinations (bow ties, paisley pocket squares and fuss) do not seem to marry with the idea of what that particular person considers ‘going out’ clothing. ‘Going out’ is unambiguous code for late night bar-hopping, clubbing, guest list queues and almost any activity past 6 in the evening that involves the purchase and consumption of alcohol and the ‘musical’ assailing of the ears.

For women, ‘going out’ is frankly ceremonial. Hours before departure, dresses are trialled with necklaces, shoes, bags, bracelets and boleros. Make-up is invariably applied, hair remarkably coiffed, skin moisturised and nails shining. Men make no such effort. In fact, men often make no distinction between day wear and evening wear at all. This is largely because the line between the two has blurred considerably, but also because eveningwear used to be so easy for the poor, uninterested male. All he needed was a few white evening shirts, a black bow tie and a dinner suit. He never cultivated alternatives or variations as women did. As stiff and as formal as it sounds, black tie was perfect for the man who didn’t care.

These days, he has the misfortune of choice. The most common dilemma is ‘Which clean shirt shall I wear?’ followed by ‘Which jeans match smell the best?’ For the shirt, usually untucked, worn with jeans is by far the most common ‘going out’ ensemble for men in my neck of the woods. I cannot stand it. It lacks invention. It lacks presence. Although, I admit, it is rather perfect for the environments in which it is often seen – dark, cramped, sweaty clubs that remind me more of a musical Tube ride at rush hour than an MTV video set.

Although I would always encourage a gentleman to wear the clothing he feels most comfortable in, even if this be tweed n’ cords, I always adjust my signature a little when I venture out for a ‘hit’ of nightlife. I tend to tone down; bright clashes of colour that work well in the sunlight have little effect in the gloom of a club. Also, I tend to work with more monochromatic colours – greys, white, black, navy blue – and stay away from brown. Colour and flourish added can be rather simple. Ties, if I wear them, tend to be simpler and stronger in contrast if patterned. If I go without a tie, I invariably add a silk pocket square. Silhouette is always important but at night it is particularly pertinent as less detail is on display; ergo, trousers should be flatteringly slim and jackets short.

I also think playing with texture is more important than playing with colour subtleties; the odd patent belt, velvet jacket or slub-silk trouser adds depth. The best thing is, ‘going out’ clothing is far easier for the male to achieve as so much of it can be borrowed from what is considered to be his ‘work wardrobe.’ For that ease of transition, the male is envied.

Leave a Comment

Style Movie: Coco Avant Chanel

One of the most interesting things about ‘Coco Avant Chanel’ was that for all its triumphant, feminist messages about suffragette-era women, succeeding ‘in a man’s world’, and rejection of conformity (including the institution of marriage), it actually paid peculiar, and not necessarily intentional, homage to the man.

Certainly, the ‘beast’ was duly embarrassed; boorish aristocrats proved to be no match for the cutting wit of little Coco, very well played by Audrey Tatou, who flicked her French fingers facetiously, clucked disapprovingly and smoked incessantly whilst the men surrounding her somehow succumbed to her interesting beauty and evident charm. She practically devoured Balsan, the boozy beast in the castle, and though she was certainly ‘targeted’ by the love interest, Arthur ‘Boy’ Capel, you couldn’t help but conclude it was she who had fired the arrow.

However, the reason the film was made was not because Chanel was simply another story of a determined woman who had battled sexism and prejudice before feminism had been invented, but because she was a fashion designer. The message of the film was valid but I was far more interested in what had possessed this sometime milliner, what had influenced her in achieving not, as some have concluded, merely parity with men but a style of such simplicity and grace that it completely changed the way males and females perceive dress.

The irony of the film is that Chanel inadvertently credits the timelessness and refined simplicity of Edwardian male style. It’s obvious that she isn’t wearing trousers, boaters, shirts and jackets simply because she is rebelling but because they appeal to her. And, of course, though men are blamed by Chanel for imprisoning women in the over-elaborate dresses of the early 20th century, she also admires them for the way they wear their own clothing. She copies them, borrows from them and not only finds inspiration in them but also genuine friendship; it’s very odd that so many have written it up as a battling, feminist tour de force.

To view her adaption of male clothing, pyjamas and rejection of frilly fuss as merely bog-standard, feminist nose-thumbing is to miss the point; Coco Chanel was an aesthete who happened to respect male clothing more than female clothing and it was clear she had not merely made a self-conscious decision to reject male oppression. Some of her comments about corsets and skin-exposure did have resonance of suffragette grievances but largely, her adjustment of female clothing seemed to have a lot more to do with her distaste for overcooked fashions.

Beautifully presented, Anne Fontaine’s film has plenty of examples of majestic menswear; glorious white tie, country tweeds and pre-war pinstripes. As much as it is a toast to one of the most influential personages in fashion, and one of the most famous women of the twentieth century, it is also a nod to Chanel’s famous line; “Fashion fades; only style remains the same.”

Leave a Comment