Cultural Differences: Black Tie At Weddings

Considering the violent and convincing manner in which the redcoat troops were defeated in the last quarter of the 18th century, with the assistance of French gold and weaponry, the very existence of what is famously termed the ‘special relationship’ seems inconceivable but the similarities between the peoples either side of the Atlantic Ocean are well noted and undeniable. Indeed it could be argued that Britain has now maintained a friendly and understanding relationship with America longer than she has with any other nation. However, the grandiloquent pretences of the 19th century – the dream of America and the Imperial mother nation uniting together in mighty union - have, perhaps fortunately, vanished.

The Old World has been in decline since the ‘disagreements’ of 1781, the New has risen steadily to outmuscle, outshine and outdo the parent but, like all offspring, has slowly developed an appreciation for the Old. In art, architecture, fashion and music there have certainly been examples of American uniqueness; innovations of the continent itself. However, there has been, and still is, a connection and a reverence for the European way of doing things. This is by no means an embarrassment for Americans, nor is it overstatement of the greatness that lingers from a bygone age. Between two continents we have forged what has become to be known by all as ‘The Western World.’

However, there are some peculiar aspects and traditions of modern America perplexing to me. The most popular sports are played little elsewhere in the world; there is a strange arrangement in calendars of months, days and then years and of course, there is a tradition to wear ‘a tux’ at one’s wedding - no matter that it may be a morning ceremony followed by a lunchtime reception. Some American readers may think it terribly old fashioned, and Old World, to question a tradition that most Americans have known for at least a generation. However, it has always seemed to me rather strange when looking at American wedding photos – the bride and groom, extremely neat in appearance; well groomed, coiffed and with gleaming smiles but in contradicting attire.

The bride is invariably wearing what some refer to as the ‘meringue’ – a mound of creamy white that corresponds to the ‘fairytale’ of the wedding ceremony. It is essentially a period design, although what period it directly represents isn’t always clear. The gentleman stands next to his bride in a severe black tuxedo, usually with satin-faced lapels, and wears the white shirt with, typically, a black clip on bow tie. It is usually a case of ‘day meets night’ – it would be correct to wear black tie (or, as it is a formal occasion ‘white tie’) in the evening, after six o’ clock, but usually, the same dress is adopted for morning and afternoon wear. In the shining sun, the ‘tuxedo’ looks odd to this traditionalist European. Commanding and appropriately attired he might be to American eyes; to me he looks more like a Parisian waiter who has lost his tray. It might be that Americans don’t understand the rule of when to wear evening dress, do not care to follow such a rule or even that they are unaware of it being ‘evening dress.’ Someone I know recently wore morning dress to a wedding in the States to be complimented by a local with the words; ‘Nice tux!’ As the ensemble is known simply by this and not the more clear cut ‘evening dress’ or ‘dinner suit’, this may explain why it has somehow become the norm to wear it to one’s wedding.

The other explanation is that Americans adopted black tie at weddings as it was the only formal dress they possessed in their wardrobes. Instead of garbing themselves in something they were unlikely to wear again, they revolutionised the formal attire of weddings and adopted their ‘smart evening clothes’ instead. This is a rather charming explanation but is rather strange coming from a nation that produces television programmes that lecture women on the appropriateness of their clothing choices. “This one” shrills the self-assured host “is much maw an eevnin’ dress hunny. It’s black, that should give you your first clue!”

Shoes Matter

‘If only’ are two of the saddest words in the English language. We are always more indulgently wistful in contemplating opportunities lost than we are in celebrating realised gains. The land-of-might-have-been is one of perfection and happiness in which there is no call for such regretful hand-wringing for, as Novello sang, it is simply “far more mercifully planned than the cruel place we know.” I am not often as sanguine about my own situation as I would hope, but I like to think that I plan for the best. I really feel that life, characteristically disappointing as it is, is there to be throttled and dealt with; no point in doing things half-cock or pursuing things halfway.

Such was my contemplative thought on seeing a well-dressed young gentleman on Fleet Street in a tidy two-button grey suit; the tie was a tasteful knot, the shirt appropriate for the suit and even a folded square of linen poked out from the breast pocket but disastrously, the footwear he had decided upon, dragged his estimable effort down considerably: untidy, lumpy brick-shaped shoes of a dull, cheap-looking black leather, they looked borrowed or found so out of place were they in this outfit. Only a strong sense of propriety and respect for the privacy of citizens prevented me from telling him to rid himself of such hideous footwear and head, promptly, in the direction of Jermyn Street. Instead I raised my eyebrows, tutted to myself and muttered ruefully; ‘If only!’

Since this disappointing sighting I have noted that footwear seems to rank very low on the list of sartorial importance for gentlemen in the metropolis. Suits, while often awful, are sometimes very appealing, even exquisite; ties are, again, a let down generally but there are signs of improvement in pattern choice and knots. Shirts are often the most pleasing part of the London working man’s wardrobe – considering the number of ‘discount’ Jermyn Street traders manufacturing well structured, suit-friendly shirts this is perhaps unsurprising. It is the footwear; the lumpy, grossly inelegant chunks of leather that people choose to wear on a business day that most surprises me. Invariably black, the shoes are of questionable shape, quality and durability. Why is this the case? Why are gentlemen inclined to provide significant financial outlay on brilliant threads but scrimp on decent leather?

One theory of mine tends to lead to the conclusion that most gentlemen believe that footwear simply doesn’t matter, as if we still had to tread the mud-caked streets of old; they may believe that a beautiful suit, constituting such a large area of the human body, needs representative investment. Shoes, those sadly necessary fixtures enveloping our feet, are rather small; ‘No one’ll notice’ shrugs our hypothetical proponent. The other theory is that the gentleman considers shoes are most certainly significant but has little understanding or education as to what an attractive shoe actually is. Some might scoff that attractive shoes should be simply self-evident but I believe our hypothetical gentleman in this category relies far more on price, branding and ubiquity as his guides for what footwear he should purchase. Most of the square-toed, badly shaped carbuncles masquerading as shoes in our shops are ugly and unflattering. Shoes are noticeable (to some more than anything else) and they can finish a look perfectly, or they can let you down horrendously.

It may sound like a cliché but the old, English shoemakers – not quite in the Lobb league – are the best. Church’s, Crockett & Jones, Trickers and Edward Green all make wonderful shoes that last a heck of a long time, crafted in designs that age very little. New & Lingwood, though not a Northampton name, is also an established and highly regarded shoemaker. To the average buyer the shoes are certainly expensive; many would choke at the hushed price on their way to the door, but this is more a consequence of our existing in such a capricious, throwaway society than anything to do with any ‘overcharging.’ Many friends of mine I have recommended to the shoe shops of Jermyn Street frequently reported back on the ‘incredible’ prices. I personally think it’s incredible that design of this kind can be so ignored; that a design should look as elegant in 2009 as on its introduction in the early half of the last century is surely the real marvel.

The other thing to do, once you have found the shoe-mine of your dreams, is to make sure the shoe wardrobe is reasonably well stocked and topped-up; variety is a friend of shoes. I feel desperately sorry for a pair of Oxfords worn every day. Selecting a pair of plain Oxfords and alternating with a pair of punchcaps, brogues or perhaps some rakish wholecuts is an option, as is the adoption of brown shoes which can look fabulous with blue and grey suits. Always make sure shoes are looked after (re-soled, protectively polished) to ensure years of happy use.

Rare Moment: Check Jacket

Odd jackets might have fallen from favour in recent years, but there have been encouraging signs of their return. Gone are the days of the stroller – odd jackets and trousers are strictly casual nowadays – and close to disappearing are the classic brass buttoned blazers, but thanks to recent trends the concept of wearing a jacket, similar in cut and design to a suit jacket, with an odd pair of trousers is still very much alive. As ghastly and inappropriate as some of the choices may be, the practice itself is pleasing. The presence of odd jackets in a gentleman’s wardrobe increases his range of presentable ensembles; the more odd jackets, the wider the range. Pairing them with patterned trousers, coloured trousers and even denim is a realisation of their potential; even the least sartorially aware of my acquaintance still possess an odd jacket.

Tweed and plain, dark jackets are without doubt the most popular odd jackets; the former with the older generation, the latter with the younger. The usual tweed tends to be a classic Harris the colour of stale Weetabix, if patterned very subtly and the plain darks worn by young people tend to be suit orphans or poly-mix creations from River Island. Both are a badge of the clothing conservatism of the wearers. They are not exactly anonymous, but they have none of the outré explosiveness of the odd check jacket: a jacket which, in my experience, is rarely seen. For it is without question a risky choice.

Amongst the Weetabix and the poly-mix it looks rather exaggerated; one of the lonely eccentricities that receive tongue-in-cheek pleasantries. It’s different, yes and challenging, certainly but once it has been mastered will prove one of the most valuable items in the wardrobe. An odd check jacket has effervescence, lashings of character and, importantly, youth – even before you have stuffed a square of silk or matched a waistcoat. A check jacket seems always to be worn by those accustomed to smiling. It is the coat of a chuckler, a back slapper and a generous friend. About it there is a delightful, Pickwickian naivety. It is perpetually happy.

Controlling the overall volume of your attire is rather like legislating for a raucous party guest by inviting a hatful of dullards; plainness is the best partner for pattern. Depending on the colour variation in the check jacket, plain shirts of almost any colour will work well, particularly mid blues and white. Checks will also work, but prior experimentation may be required. Wearing stripes can produce a pattern clash, which can be occasionally brilliant, but they are generally too lacking in harmony; width of check and stripe would need to be taken into consideration. Wide stripes would look better with a small check, and vice versa.

The other advantage of a check jacket being the ‘loudest sailor at the bar’ is that the others in attendance, items of individual eccentricity, begin to look rather ordinary. The red trousers, the bow tie and the patterned shirt recede in significance. Therefore, items that get few outings because of their ‘oddness’ suddenly seem more civilised and more adaptable.

The Old School Tie

I remember my school days fondly. They were glowing, comforting halcyon days; the echo of laughter along the parquet corridors, the buzz of excitement at the end of term, the sun drenched summer days on the playing fields and the cool, dewy November fire drill mornings. Memory, however, is undoubtedly selective. Less clear are the hazy memories of romantic disappointments, feelings of insecurity and unpopularity, moments of alienation and punishment – the solitary hours of reflection and idleness.

The other fantasies of such nostalgic hypocrisy were the turgid beliefs of self-assurance, creativity and individuality; in particular, in the matter of uniform, my popular illusion that I was more artistically responsible, more aesthetic, in my manner of wear than all my classmates. A little browsing of photograph albums corrects these laughable assertions. The most that can be said for me, an awkward and rather gaunt teenager, was that I wore clean shirts and could tie a tie.

This last triumph of mine, my now ubiquitous four-in-hand, may well be something of a collector’s item in years to come. Clip-on ties, absolutely appalling mock ups of a made tie, are gradually replacing hand-knotted ties in UK schools. The Schoolwear Association claimed that 10 schools a week are switching from hand tied ties to clip-ons because of “fears of ties getting caught in equipment or strangling pupils.”

I’m not quite sure what has changed in schools, but its clear the days of the five minute education on tucking ties into shirts when working in the science and technology labs, are over. I never experienced an attempted ‘strangulation’ with one of our regulation ties, and I am glad for it, but I do think that worrying about such a sad fatality says more about the loss of control over school children than the supposed health and safety risks of a tie one ties oneself.

The other more intriguing, certainly more convincing reason cited is that a ready made tie, mocked up in a very conventional way, will prevent pupils from customising the size of the knots in their ties. For years now, rebellion in schools has taken many forms; swearing, chewing gum in class, teacher abuse, hair that defies regulation and, particularly, uniform alteration.

When I first attended school I was shown a picture – then about 10 years old – of some pupils at my school in the uniform I was to buy. “This is how” the school outfitter muttered “your school wishes you to dress.” I was never a rebellious type and looking at the photo, rather disinterestedly, I acquiesced with a blink and a blank expression. There must have been those, however, who on seeing the well-cut suit, tightly tied tie and clean white shirts ignited what I refer to as ‘graffiti thoughts’; the willingness to rebel, no matter that such rebellion makes worse what was first there.

The strange thing about this plan of action is that the Schoolwear Association sees no issue of rebellion in the issuing of a tie meant to counteract the very thing that pupils collectively cherish; creativity. As far as aesthetics go, the awfulness of the fat knot and short tail is without question but at least, in manufacturing such stylistic rebellion, the pupil is able to tie a tie.

Although school uniform is a great social leveller, the hypocrisy of a clip-on tie is the schools attempt to keep pupils on an equal footing by collectively removing from them the opportunity to wear a proper tie; how could they ever feel they belong in the darkest corridor, or on the coldest, frostiest winter run if the school deems they don’t even belong in a tie? For a clip-on tie, is not a tie; it is an oxymoron. The world of clip-on takes education and development away from the child. It places before the child arguments for soulless homogeny, a denial of an opportunity for expression. By all means, discourage the child from the fat knots and short tails worn by the protagonists of the teen dramas, but educate in doing so.

Looking smart can, and should, be in the interests of all. The resources are there for everyone to wear clean, well-fitting clothing to school – the real failure is not the necktie but the hold that we have lost over the younger generation; to clip on a tie is to throw in the towel.

Sunglasses: The Individual Choice

A critic of mine, eavesdropping on a conversation I was having with a colleague, smiled wryly across the table as she uttered the utterly unanswerable; ‘Why do you criticise people so much?’ Few awkward silences have matched what followed; it was a terse remark, warranted but strangely alien to the spirit of discussion. After ponderous finger drumming, cheek reddening and forced smiles I offered the deadpan and rather gauche riposte; ‘Because I am dissatisfied.’ I was aiming for self-deprecation and humility, instead the response was taken for arrogance, resulting in a tirade of high-horsed sermonising, my own social debasement and a singularly surprising attack on, what was considered, ‘a bourgeois sense of self-importance.’

As it happens, I dispense neither criticism nor advice out of any conscious feeling of superiority or grandeur. My advice is simply rather honest, and it is difficult to keep criticism out of the largest chunks of my conversation; the danger of thinking is always that your view, or at the very least the simple fact that you possess an alternative argument, is likely to upset others. For example, in criticising openly the actions, attitude or apparel of a group, you alienate yourself from sympathisers or followers of that group, whilst gaining stronger support from those of a similar mind. The trade-off is probably equal, but actually disappointing: I always hope that my advice, sometimes keenly sought, does a varying amount of good rather than any degree of harm.

I have been harvesting information on the subject of sunglasses, of seasonal interest to many, that follows on from the article I composed on the Aviator and Wayfarer models of sunglasses almost two years ago. Whilst I remain adamant that these two models of glasses, so widely available (and widely worn), are simply the finest designs available to purchase, I believe it is important to offer more to readers than a simple escort in the direction of a Ray Ban boutique. For one thing, the immense popularity of these glasses does render them slightly commonplace: the Louis Vuitton Theory of availability and popularity dictates that even price is not a sufficient barrier to ubiquity. Commonplace items can be instantly unappealing, no matter how brilliant they may be; if Apple are to conduct any further research on the appeal of their iPhone, they would undoubtedly discover a number of people unwilling to purchase the product due to the simple fact that they detest using the same product as Tom, Dick and Harry.

Whilst some men possess more than one pair of sunglasses, using the different models on different occasions, many men are only willing to purchase one pair. Unless you happen to be a person who requires sunglasses for sport, do not purchase wrap-around mirrored bug-eyes of the Oakley variety; they are extraordinarily unattractive and, to my eye, offensively, overtly and aggressively ‘sci-fi’ – there is nothing of the elegant or the beautiful about them. They lack both character and charm.

The best glasses to purchase should you only be willing to purchase that one pair should be practical but suitable for all occasions; the Wayfarers, as mentioned previously, are wonderful in this regard but if looking for something a little more recherché, Persol manufacture attractive and versatile frames. For something a little more ‘retro’ – oval frames, ‘horn rimmed’ 1930s style, Ralph Lauren has a good selection and for a slightly-dated-but-still-chic 1970s effect, Tom Ford is the place to go.