The Question of Personalisation

“Is something the matter Jeeves?” asked Bertie, quizzically. Jeeves turns around slowly and informs his young master that there appear to be some ‘curious objects’ in his wardrobe. “Curious objects?” parrots Wooster, pacing over to the wardrobe with furrowed brow. Upon seeing the items in question, Bertie looks at Jeeves innocently and proclaims; “They’re handkerchiefs Jeeves, handkerchiefs” to which the great valet frowns and smiles, knowingly; “I think not sir, they appear to have writing on them.”

This superb scene from the Granada production of Jeeves & Wooster, based on the fabulous Jeeves books by PG Wodehouse, aside from being one of my favourites, introduces rather nicely a topic which I feel needs addressing; the question of personalisation. The only thing I have personalised is a pair of black velvet Albert slippers. It has never really occurred to me to personalise shirts, handkerchiefs or other accessories. I can see the appeal; adding your entwined initials or even a family crest to small items can add personal value to the item in question. Your stamp is there to see, the item is uniquely yours. As Bertie quite rightly ripostes to Jeeves critique; “I think they look dashed smart!”

However, Jeeves’ equally powerful response to Bertie’s suggestion that “everyone gets things initialled these days”, that he thought the practice was “…reserved for those who were in danger of forgetting their name” is also a consideration. Does the man of style really need to add his monogram to his carefully chosen threads? Is it a requirement that he see his family letters, no matter how smartly arranged, on clothes and accessories? I, being one who has arranged letters in what is perhaps seen by some as a vulgar manner on a pair of honest slippers, cannot possibly pass judgment on the practice per se; decrying the use of personalisation would reek of hypocrisy. I still consider my slippers smart, but I have grown into the idea that they are a one off – I make no plans to initial cuffs or linen handkerchiefs. In one way, initialling cuffs to me looks untidy, no matter what the font; it draws the eyes of others because it looks unusual and a little out of place. In comparison, considering the Albert slipper, it always looks conspicuously plain without adornment. Thus, a monogram or a crest actually balances the slipper correctly, just as a bow or a buckle would.

Speaking to a rather opinionated chum of mine, who is of the opinion that initialling clothing is the sartorial equivalent of needing a personalised number plate, it seems that critics of the practice mock the insecurity of a chap who needs people to see his name stitched into his cotton and linen. While I can understand this viewpoint, I think it needs to be remembered that personalisation is precisely that – personal. Although there will be the armchair aesthetes who’d argue that real individualism requires no signature, many people of considerable style feel moved to identify some, or even all items of their wardrobe.

After my meandering thoughts, which had turned and retreated as many times as an Italic monogram, I concluded that personalisation is only universally tasteful when it requires a searching eye to identify it. I have seen gentlemen with initialled shirt collars, suit lapels and even shoes. Numbers sometimes accompany the letters, perhaps an ostentatious reference to the birthday of the wearer, or worse, even the number of shirts, suits or shoes he might possess. Such vulgarity is rare, but it is seen. When certain people reach the apogee of financial and social achievement, they feel confident and determined that the world know exactly who they are. They pay for the dubious privilege of having the world see their identity before they’ve opened their mouths, offered an ungloved hand or slipped them a card. Then there are the chaps that don’t feel comfortable walking around in clothing that, if it was mislaid, might as well belong to somebody else. Since they carefully selected their Sea Island shirts then they are inclined to brand them accordingly. This I can certainly appreciate, especially when handing over significant sums for the item in the first place.

The point is to brand stylishly and with subtlety; the choice of font is a top consideration, as is the colour – a contrast might be considered too outré whereas a tone-on-tone is much more subtle and requires more than one glance for identification, but the most important thing is where on the item in question you plan to personalise. To personalise on the inside of a shirt or suit is indeed subtle, but it smacks of a schoolboy inclined to lose his uniform. I think the idea is to imagine yourself in the position of a great artist preparing to add his signature to the masterpiece; if one is looking long and hard enough, one will see it. For this reason I believe it is better to add a subtle signature in a darker or lighter tone of the item in question, as anything else can look like graffiti. This is so that, just like the signature of a fine artist, you might mistake it for being part of the design.

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Summer Style Pet Peeves

At Christmas I provided readers with a seasonal treat; a glimpse into the world of my bias, my style pet peeves and personal partialities. Now that it is summer, new sprouts of prejudice eat away at my fragile patience. For the summertime may well be a time for natural beauty but there are some awful human errors that stain the summer landscape. Such blunders hardly go unnoticed. I remember last summer, reading countless articles in newspapers and glossy supplements, pleading with style-conscious wives and girlfriends not to let their sartorially challenged husbands and boyfriends make an embarrassment of them, and poor old Blighty, when they step onto the continent. For nowhere is it more apparent that they are tagging along with a chap with all the grace and elegance of a squashed plum than among the elite of the destination they choose for a European holiday where, they are able to compare, side by side, how other men dress in warm climes; how they manage to look calm and cool despite the heat and humidity and how they manage to look chic and inventive despite their perching atop monuments anciens, relaxing after a rocky climb.

‘Technical’ sandals

This is the childish title I have long used for those Velcro sandals that, for me, characterise the Northern European on holiday. I can accept that they are useful and certainly comfortable footwear but that is all I can say for them. To me they are the most hideous lumps you can attach to your feet. They are juvenile and graceless and have those terrible logos and ridiculous model names like ‘Source’ or ‘Xtreme.’ The way the straps wrap around the foot is neither appealing nor flattering; it is like one is preparing one’s foot for a rollercoaster. I remember being in Pompeii recently and seeing a family of four all wearing the wretched things. Though sandals were an appropriate choice for the dusty streets and terrain of the ancient city, wearing such ugly versions seemed almost sinful in a place that possessed such glorious beauty.

‘Clam diggers’

Mistakenly referred to as the ‘men’s Capri pant’, the ‘clam diggers’ have neither the shape nor the refinement. When I see someone wearing them, from a distance it looks as if they are wearing makeshift trousers fashioned from fishing nets or jute sacking which, in actual fact, would at least possess more charm than the toggled ugliness of the real ‘clam diggers.’ Unlike the Capri pant, the mere clam digger trouser swings awkwardly around the calves unless the toggles are used, pulling the material crudely into the skin. Either way, it is difficult to see how anyone has designed these and had approval of the aesthetics. I would even call their practicality into issue. Their name is derived from the real ‘clam diggers’ – people who would stand in shallower water and literally dig for clams, the small depth of water requiring them to roll up their trousers, or chop them off completely. However, they are rarely used so practically. They are now worn as a summer fashion trouser – something between shorts and proper trousers. Why? The mind boggles.

‘Skins’

The third gross faux pas, as far as summer fashion is concerned, is the propensity for certain men to wander around streets and boulevards with nothing on their backs but lashings of sun cream. A shirt or t-shirt might swing from their belt loop but they think nothing of shuffling around streets at home and abroad exposing their sweating torso. Despite what they might think about people passing them glances of admiration, the shock of seeing such an exposure of flesh away from the swimming pool or beach is considerably shocking. The overall effect is always of a man ‘half-dressed’; all onlookers willing them to possess the decency to put a damn shirt on their backs.

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Summer Heat and the City

Though we welcome the warmth of summer, the thought of ‘heat’ united with the ‘city’ does not sound at all like the ideal. Heat is best combated in the languorous cool of the countryside, where idleness is a requirement rather than a mere possibility. The city’s problems seem only to be exacerbated on exceptionally warm and particularly close days; we become more bothersome and irritated, public transport is quite unbearable, we dehydrate and develop a crabbiness that seems unique to the concrete jungle; the idea of an idyllic spot in the shade, surrounded by trickling streams, birdsong and a cool breeze seems almost impossible and remote on such occasions.

Hot days in a metropolitan context, though common, are best avoided. I myself am particularly affected. The worst possible edition of Winston JP Chesterfield is one that scrabbles uncomfortably through a sea of shoulders, sodden with sweat, dizzy from heat and exhaustion, maddened by the interminable sirens and incessant hum; on such days, I would not wish my beastly company on anyone.

However, I cannot avoid such Hyde-ian transformations. Whatever the temperature, it is business as usual. I have never provided a credible excuse for absence on these ‘overly clement’ days. Steps are taken instead to avoid the turn.

Shorts  

Firstly, when it is very warm indeed, I simply have to wear shorts, particularly when I am walking through London and spending a great deal of time outside. I think shorts have been given a jolly rough time, sartorially speaking. One of the greatest problems is that merely because bare leg happens to be on display, many assume we can only team the garment with t-shirts, polo shirts and trainers. Putting on a pair of shorts brings back the novelty of P.E. sessions or sneaking out of the office a little early to play a couple of sets with an old chum; they’re just too sporty for us to take seriously. However, I think this is a shame. Shorts may very well be less formal than trousers, and we would hardly turn up to an important meeting and expect to be taken seriously, but they can be very elegant.

Avoid the multi pocketed combat shorts and go for the neat, tailored styles. As for length, it really depends on the occasion and also how shapely and appealing you happen to think your legs are. Very smart clothing calls for shorts that finish just above the knee, whereas more casual items can be worn with the ‘short-shorts’ – exposing more of the glorious thigh. And as strange as it sounds to wear shorts to work, it is actually done. I know several people that, last year, wore tailored shorts to the office on certain summer days. Maintaining the preppy chic of the upper half with a tie, shirt and blazer and rounding it all off with a pair of elegant shoes is key; without these elements, it will look far too relaxed.

Espadrilles

I think espadrilles are wonderful and I hate to limit their use to the very few weeks a year I might spend traipsing around resorts, ruins and Ravello. Even London can be an appropriate location for the rustic chic and practicality of these simple items of footwear. They are hardly appropriate for the working week, but come the days of freedom, these will serve you better than trainers, plimsolls or loafers; they are cooler and inexpensive and the multitude of colours to choose from means you can match them brilliantly to other items of the ensemble such as a polo shirt or a pocket square.

Shirt sleeves

I have never been a great buyer of short sleeve shirts. I own a few, but I simply prefer long sleeves. Even taking very warm weather into account, I would prefer to roll my sleeves up. In an article that advocates the wearing of shorts, it might seem rather perplexing to the reader that I am not advancing the case for short sleeve shirts, but the simple fact of the matter is that I, personally, do not like them as much. However, having said that, short sleeve shirts can be very appealing but - and that’s a ‘but’ the size of Hyde Park - only when they are worn in fitted styles. Loose and baggy short sleeve shirts are the very end. Ideally, short sleeve shirts should be spruced up with a natty bow or neck tie. The question really is whether it is worth splashing out on short sleeved shirts for the summer or saving more than a few quid by surviving on adapting long sleeved shirts to summer wear. The point of short sleeved shirts is avoidance of excess material in times of warmth, but it really depends on your style persona. Whereas I am happy to fiddle around with shirt cuffs and sleeves, others might prefer to avoid the fuss.

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Favourite Ensembles: S/S 2006 Missoni

Missoni is one of those brands that defies seriousness so strongly, that I cannot help but associate it with a casual Italian summer; a holiday in the Bay of Naples, Campari and orange, sweet scents and glorious flora. There is something about the stripes, the rage of colourful patterns and the chic flop of the material that induces me to associate Missoni with the warmer time of year.

Even in the depths of winter, shivering from exiting the shower, I am transported to carefree days in the shadow of the glory and greatness of Rome and to the rippling sparkle and azure of the Amalfi coast when I wrap the famous striped towels around my body. For to me, I do not feel that I have arrived on holiday, particularly Italy, until I begin to dress in the Missoni way; a mix and match of colours, a relaxed and slightly retro fit.

This is another of my favourite ensembles, from the spring 2006 Missoni collection. The really standout item, as with many Missoni ensembles, is the knitwear. The colour matching and cheerful striping avoids mere preppyness; the different widths and cornucopia of tones are signature Missoni. To some eyes it might seem excessively bright, but the magnificence of it is the somewhat hypnotic effect in the way it draws the eyes down from the broadness of stripe on the chest to the narrowness of the waist.

The orange belt is a clever addition; the trousers are uneventful and though checked, are too subtle to compete with the knitwear. Consequently, the belt draws some of the fruity colour down from the top half into the lower half. And though the lower half is indeed less colourful, it is well matched -  rather like a cocktail that unites something exotic with something plain; making the whole better than the sum of the parts.

The shoes are the one thing that did not initially appeal to me. I considered them a little moody in tone considering the punch of the rest but on further reflection, they finish off the outfit completely. White shoes, which I had considered more appropriate at first, might actually downgrade the outfit from being a healthy stab at retro to being like something from 1970s Monaco; a little cliché and ever so slightly trashy. The blue suede is far more subtle, if a little artisan or geek-chic.

The parts that really add lustre to this appealing outfit are the deep salmon pink shirt and the ever-so-skinny knitted scarf. The cuffs of the shirt are particularly appealing, folded up over the sleeve bottoms of the v-neck, reaffirming the delivery of this ensemble as something for the summer and I do like that only the top button of the shirt is undone; I have begun to find, in some outfits, that doing so retains the structure of a shirt better. The scarf, while most will doubtless consider it rather too decorative and absurdly lacking in function, actually lifts this outfit from being a delightful but practical v-neck, shirt and trouser combination into an outfit that could be excused at the most demanding of summer venue or occasion. It furthers perfectly the uniqueness that Missoni have rightly been credited for promoting.

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H&M, a Brand on the Turn?

I recently made an excellent purchase. The item in question is a slate grey linen jacket and the store I purchased the item from was none other than H&M. Forgive if you will the childish abruptness of the preceding sentences, but the simple truth of the matter is, I am still exhibiting signs of surprise. A year ago, even in the mighty sprawl of London, I doubt I could have made such a purchase in that veritable Swedish temple of disposable fashion. Blazers were an occasional option, but even in the vastness of central London branches, H&M seemed to be at odds with my tastes.

The occasional belt or pair of shorts were purchased and I remember a couple of knitwear items, but largely, as I have matured; a maturation that has galvanized my appreciation for a well-cut jacket and smart pair of trousers, I have drifted across the threshold very few times. The ‘direction’ of the store seemed to be youth focused; ghastly printed t-shirts, trucker caps and the like. The sort of thing you might find abandoned in a grisly backstreet in Bangkok. I never expected to find anything of value there and I certainly did not expect a sudden Zara-esque transformation into a store that sartorially curious young bucks in their mid-twenties might be interested in.

There were the occasional signs; a few smart items at the shop on Brompton Road rekindled my interest, but the seminal occasion was the opening of the giant Regent Street flagship: a three storey monster in the old Dickens & Jones building. Airy, fresh and generally uncrowded, the new shop is a bright change from the claustrophobic and frustrating atmosphere of the soon-to-be-redundant ‘corner shop’ branch on the Circus. The womenswear, as one passes through, is recognisable and typically H&M; colourful and occasionally stylish. There is one significant difference though; the space and order. H&M seem to have learned that, though they are a formidable retailer, they can learn from their enemies (read: Inditex Group). Fewer items weighed down the racks, there were more assistants on hand to help and there was less of the clothing carnage I normally associate with an afternoon visit to a high street store.

As I ascended in the shiny escalators I groaned as I saw the content of the floor I was rising to. I saw skirts, blouses and handbags – the men’s section, I rationalised, was likely to be a tiny and pitiful selection of jeans and t-shirts in a dull corner of this vast building. Not so. In fact, the men’s section was much larger than I imagined and in far the better area of the floor, near to the windows overlooking Regent Street. I was shocked at what I saw. A large wooden till dominated the area; oriental carpets were scattered over the appealing stone floor. Carefully positioned spotlights highlighted the best aspects of garments and large, heavy wooden cheval mirrors were perched next to burnished leather bucket chairs and appealingly sparse racks.

However, this was no mere window-dressing, for the clothes had changed too. There was an abundance of stylish jackets, all made from natural materials, with classic finishing. Shirts were simple and stylish and a great wad of silk ties, in conservative and pleasant patterns, were arranged on a central table next to the exciting and blissfully economical pocket squares. Away from the hush of this area, you can find the usual H&M male collection; all denim, t-shirts and flip flops but now, fortunately, this is not all H&M has to offer. Perhaps this is a sign of things to come. This London ‘exhibition’ bodes well for the future of the brand in Europe and around the world. Of course, H&M will always have its critics; those who chuckle at the disposability and quality of the garments, although I must admit, I saw little evidence in the new menswear department to evidence the latter. If this creativity and dedication continues, H&M will only gather more admirers and we will be spoilt for choice as the modern ‘high street formula’ in menswear continues to aid the sickened and fashion conscious in times of economic woe.

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