Autumn Tactics

Readers south of the equator will have to excuse the ‘timing’ of this article; it is biased. Even readers north of the equator might consider it a little premature. After all, we are yet to see the end of summer; the yachts are still bobbing, the barbecues still smoking, and yet I am already writing of the autumn. However, I believe in preparation. Although it might be a little depressing to flick through the new season’s wools and cashmere the sooner it is confronted, the sooner the shock will pass. Some time needs to be given to wardrobe changes, additions and subtractions need to be made, and in some cases, our rib n’ burger fatted bodies will need a re-evaluation with the tape measure.

I have compiled a list of four items I have considered - paying a little attention to the upcoming trends, much more attention to the overall aesthetic - as good investments for the coming season.

The suit: Three Piece Suit

While I am definitely a fan of odd waistcoats, nothing quite beats the majesty and impact of a waistcoat worn as part of a suit. Enough has been written of the flattering effect of waistcoats, and of the practical, but the thing that should be reiterated is that a three piece suit will upgrade almost anything you wear with it; it makes one look ‘tailored’ and refreshingly ‘buttoned-up’ in an increasingly casual world. It is important to remember to break up the fabric monotony with a pocket square and the more eccentric may wish to add a rather dandy silver-chained pocket-watch although you should remember not to wear a wristwatch when you do so.

The occasion: The Velvet Jacket

Evening jackets are very different to day jackets. And as the days turn darker, there’s even more of a division. Texture is a useful quality when we begin to layer our clothing a little more and velvet is the perfect foil for dreary grey evenings. Even with a plain shirt and trousers, the VJ will make you look like you have made a decent effort for that after-work cocktail party. Look out for the rakish shawl collared versions that are slowly appearing in the shops. Traditionally made in burgundy, deep blue or black, the VJ can easily be worn with denim.

The everyday: The Corduroy Jacket

If you think wearing a tweed jacket shouts ‘I know stats!’ you might wish to opt for a corduroy jacket. Both are perfect for the bookish, Ivy Leaguey autumn casual looks but corduroy is definitely the ‘younger’ jacket. When it begins to look battered, like a Barbour, it simply looks better. The matt texture allows for great contrasting with, for example, a paisley bow tie or a silk polka dot pocket square. It’s a robust old thing so it will be hard-wearing as well as warm. Dark brown is common, if not a little boring. Try navy blue, mustard or slate grey.

The versatile shoe: The Monkstrap

I love my lace up Oxfords but my ‘friend’ shoes – the ones I always rely on at times of indecision – are generally slip-ons. The monkstrap is not officially a slip-on but the more it gets used, the more likely it is that the strap will remain fastened when the shoe horn is put into action. My uncle has a battered pair of Church’s monkstraps that, he claims, haven’t been unfastened in 10 years. However, these shoes are of interest to more than the purely lazy – they have a character that makes them ‘jump out’ like no lace up; a shiny buckle will attract admiring glances. My particular favourite is the double monkstrap – of which I own a lovely Bordeaux pair; as fabulous with cords and jeans as cashmere and tweed.

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What About Swimwear?

It is always interesting to see how far the man of style will go with his particular emphasis on and awareness of the importance of dress. What event or circumstance would limit such a man? Would he be put off when potholing? Chastened by cliffwalking? Or indeed, would he adjust his standards for even the most minor, everyday pursuit. I know of men of elegance, boulevardiers of style, whose self-taught panache seems to disappear when sporting activity is on the cards. The lesson, according to the arbiters of apathy, is that the sporting arena is about performance and not appearance. Whilst that may be true, it is never pleasant to contradict your code. I recently had to wear a pair of quite hideous Nike swimming shorts, as I had not travelled with a pair myself, and spent most of the time wading in the water, attempting to conceal their arresting-yet-tasteless luminosity.

Swimwear is generally a forgotten area in the stylish gentleman’s wardrobe. Whether this is a resignation, an acceptance of the paucity of stylish swimwear or rather a rebellion – a shedding of formality and ‘seriousness’, an opportunity to play the clown – I know not. However, I do know that it is possible to purchase a decent collection of swimming shorts that will not compromise the style of a gentleman; he can stand proud at the edge of the diving board, not cowed in the safety of the palm-shaded shallow-end.

Firstly, you will note that I stated the decent collection being composed of ‘shorts’ – avoiding trunks and thongs. For most men are rather modest in nature and are more likely to look for comfort and practicality in swimwear; tight fitting trunks may look fantastic on splendidly built gentlemen but they are made for speed in the water and not comfort on the beach. We need pockets – for currency to buy an ice cream, for the buzzing Blackberry, to carry the yacht keys – and there is nothing so revolting as a hotel guest who swings by the pool bar for a bite wearing a pair of Speedo’s finest nutcrushers.

The second thing to consider is size. Many men, of otherwise good style sense, wear swimshorts that defy the definition of the word ‘short’; the longer Bermuda style are in my opinion for spiky, spotty teenagers only. They remind me of the pirate pantaloon that made the often attractive male leg entirely shapeless. This is an important consideration. Women, and indeed some other men, can find a male leg very appealing. It is strong and has better definition than the female leg – which is why companies like Aristoc use male legs in their photography – and the more of it on display, the better. Longer shorts will make you appear shorter, and juvenile. The perma-bronzed surf-mad beefcake McConaughey tends to cover his powerful thighs with clown-like shorts – making his entire body look top-heavy, when it is anything but. If he were to wear proper swim shorts, the surf fraternity may laugh at him, but he would look far better; the balance would be much improved.

The second consideration is an important one; colour and pattern. Ironically, the men’s swimwear market is dominated by bright colours and floral patterns whereas the women’s swimwear market exhibits remarkable restraint. Hawaii-ism is rife in pattern choice with manufacturers like Vilebrequin (VILEbrequin an acquaintance once quipped) offering a glutton of petal and palm. Although it would certainly be fun to possess a pair of swimshorts covered in martini glasses, I’d never build a collection of such extravagance. Patterns are fine, but the majority of the collection should be composed of plainer models. Navy and mid blues are a good starting point as they will suit all skin tones and look richer in sunlight than black. Lighter colours such as lemony yellow look splendid with tans and richer colours like Ferrari red have great impact. Stripes are also a good idea as they recall some of the nautical notes of earlier eras of swimwear – I once saw a French gentleman in Crete wearing the most perfect Tricolore stripes. Logos, unfortunately, are hard to avoid but logically, the smaller the better.

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Leather Elegance?

When I was a lad, my parents would take me travelling. We would venture near and far, as a family, and I have many adventures I can still clearly remember from those days. The most exciting time was around March when the holiday catalogues would arrive; I would read them, late at night before going to sleep, wondering which of the splendid locations I had been reading of my parents would choose. I was invariably inaccurate in my predictions. Nonetheless, I was never disappointed. Indeed, one of the most unlikely pleasures was travelling around the ‘cowboy’ states of America more than 12 years ago.

A great deal of time was spent in Dallas, visiting friends of my father. I remember the peculiarly large flags flapping on the highway, the massive glassy hotels, the car dealerships and the smell of meat and ‘bar-be-kew sawss.’ The first hotel we checked into was rather dull and resembled an office. It was named ‘Wilson’s World’ – a singularly American, if not slightly comic and optimistic name for a vast collection of dreary rooms and suites on the highway. As naïve (and pretentious) as we were, we took such a dislike to the dim, seemingly endless corridors, the beige furniture and the cold, dated corporate style of the joint that we came up with a semi-amusing song;

“We went to Wilson’s World, to stay for the night, night, night

When we got to the bar, the Coke did not taste right, right, right

When we went to the restaurant, we saw a bloke in his leathers

And dad said ‘How about checking out altogether?’”

This was oft repeated, nay chanted, throughout the holiday and it still manages to draw a smile today but the one thing that occurred to me recently when reminiscing was how we, as children, had decided that a leather jacket was somehow a humorous and unsightly mark of the commonplace. It was not a brattish observation. There was something rather unseemly about a cold-but-smart hotel restaurant providing custom to a leather clad man. I was recently speaking to someone who collects leather jackets, of differing styles, and who, regardless of weather, will always be seen wearing something constructed of hide.

It struck me that leather is rarely, if at all, a material of elegance. Leather trousers are of course, an abomination but even the oh-so-acceptable leather jacket is difficult to place. For a man who normally dresses casually, it’s a remarkably versatile garment; warm, practical and durable it will look and feel better than almost anything else. If however you are a man who likes adornment, wears ties, bow ties and shuns denim, a leather jacket is anathema. Frankly, if you’re a man of a very classic persuasion, it’s difficult to see where a lumpy, graceless leather jacket would fit into the wardrobe – amongst the mohair suits, cashmere trousers and French collar shirts.

However, after considering the problem, I came to the conclusion that elegance, at least a kind of elegance, is possible with leather – it simply means a) careful selection of the jacket itself b) considered pairings and c) an attitude adjustment.

For the first issue – the jacket selection – it is important that the jacket does not drown the man. Long sleeves and bulky shoulders are unacceptable. Though the jacket should never look ‘tailored’, it should not represent a ‘style retreat.’ Black is the classic colour for a leather jacket but brown is more chic and always remember that quality of leather should be paramount; designer ‘names’ are a secondary consideration.

Zips are more common on leather jackets but buttons are quite elegant; remember not to go for a jacket ‘imitation-in-leather.’ In other words, avoid leather jackets that have lapels and breast pockets. Of the styles available, the bomber or biker style are probably the best. Leather macs will make you look like a Nazi and leather blazers belong in a Spandau Ballet video.

For the second consideration, avoid trying to shove a square peg into a round hole and accept that your leather jacket has a certain ‘look’; it is undoubtedly more casual. Adding leather jackets to suit-like ensembles will make you look like a third rate Mafioso. It’s a weekend jacket. It needs to be respected as one. Denim is fine, if a little cliché; corduroy is better – imagine, for example, a nutty brown bomber with purple cords and loafers. Despite the casual shift, never wear trainers with a leather jacket.

Some of the best looks involve crisp open neck shirts, or perhaps a charcoal cashmere rollneck, some dark denim and slip ons; some of the worst involve Nike Air Max, baggy stonewashed jeans and ill-fitting polo shirts. The leather jacket is no friend to ill-fitting clothes. It will accentuate, and not disguise, how bad they actually are.

For the final consideration, keep in mind that your leather jacket is not your double breasted blazer. It is more knockabout, more carefree. It is tougher and simpler and does not mix well with primping.

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Sample Sales

London is not what you would call a ‘cheap’ city. If you wander down a typical West End street, evidence of the forbidding expense of the capital is everywhere. There are a lot of gloomy, disappointed faces that squint up at the towering, glittering emporia; a lot of sweaty, fidgeting grasps of the price tag and a low murmur of economic caution. Apart from the generic chain stores, the odd discount week and the Jermyn Street shirt sales, value for money is hard to come by.

If you live in the city, you become accustomed to it. You shop around, rule out certain streets and get to know the quieter times of day. If you visit for a day, hoping that you’ll find something more worthy than in your humble local town, you are often disappointed, not to mention exhausted. The scene is sometimes so pitiful it verges on the Dante-esque: people so tired, worn and dishevelled they resemble human litter, queues so long and winding they are physically painful to even contemplate – and at the end of it, a right old black-eye beating for your credit card.

It’s not pleasant and, temporary though the sweat, swollen feet and zoo-like atmosphere may be; the damage to the finances is permanent. I was offered a remedy for this last malady; a visit to a Hackett sample sale. Sample sales of legend were to me the very image of barbarity: a seething mass of desperate and despondent shoppers, grabbing and snatching their fix as cheaply, and as abundantly, as they could find it. The reality was not far off but as unpleasant and inelegant a shopping experience it was, the result – the day’s hoard – was well worth the effort.

It took place at the Old Truman Brewery on Brick Lane in East London. Not, it is safe to say, an area strongly associated with the sort of ‘settled’ image that Hackett attempts to portray but an atmospheric and spacious enough venue that had character and, mercifully, opened doors and high ceilings. At the door, an entrance fee of £2 was paid and black bin bags were made available for ‘collecting.’ The swag bag was barely useful for my meagre haul but others had reason to upgrade to large cardboard boxes. They then proceeded to kick them along the gritty, tiled floor in their search for more booty.

As it was the last of the sample sale days – there had been Thursday, Friday and Saturday openings – I was not expecting to find anything at all and, instead of contemplating a satisfactory treasure of pocket squares and ties, had expected to leave empty handed. Indeed, were it not for the deep and much disturbed boxes of ties, pocket squares, bow ties, cummerbunds, scarves and socks at the front of the Boiler House, I would have done.

Laughably late for the suits, jackets and trousers, I still had time for a futile browse. Other items – jumpers, chinos, outerwear and shoes – were of less interest and, ironically, in great supply. Never have I cursed my childlike frame so intensely than when I found 40R pinstripe suits and tweed check jackets at 2 for £50; never have I wanted bulk so badly than when I saw linen double breasted waistcoats in 46R – for £5. Shirts were another bargain area – 5 for £50, purchasing multiple polos and rugby shirts offered the same value for money and even my area of interest, accessories, offered a ‘buy more pay less’ value; 5 ties or hankies for £15.

Admittedly, though it was a successful day, it was not a particularly enjoyable shopping experience. Corpulent organisers shouted inaudible commands through megaphones; people pushed, grabbed, chucked and plundered; cashmere trousers that once were folded and hung on polished Jermyn Street hangers lay trampled and dirty on the floor of an East End industrial ghost. It was a surreal and slightly sickening experience, even before the mighty serpent queue had grown to its full and torturous size. Wilde’s words came to me as those around me piled more and more into their bags and boxes; “There are many things that they would throw away” I thought “if they were not afraid that others might pick them up.” Though certainly an exercise in achieving true value, this was turning into another example of the inescapability of greed.

Despite this grim ending, I was somewhat cheered by the sympathetic words of the make-shift till duo; “You’ve been waiting in that queue?” they frowned “for five ties?” In actual fact, it was for three ties and two pocket squares but yes, I had been waiting. Somehow, I had managed to conceal any indignation. And out of the vast industrial space I stumbled – from the manic, soup-kitchen atmosphere of bargain shopping – into the evening sunlight. My companion commented “I think we’ve just been through one of the great Circles of Hell.” I nodded. It was worth it.

For information on upcoming sample sales in London, go to http://www.samplesaleslondon.co.uk/

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A Question Of Attraction

The way in which we dress invariably has an impact on the way we are perceived by members of the attracting sex. From my perspective, a woman I perceive to be well-dressed would naturally attract more attention, even though she may not be the most attractive woman in the room; being ‘well-dressed’ is unusual. It is a sign of self-assuredness and quality of mind. However, I often wonder how important it is for my contemporaries to exaggerate or understate their own personal style in order to retain the attraction of those they wish to attract.

If I were to ask certain friends of mine whether this was a serious consideration when shopping for clothes, there would be a mixture of responses. One response would ridicule the idea of shopping to please another person. This scoff would be further qualified with suggestions that men should identify first and foremost with themselves – if the women aren’t interested, are shocked or put off, so be it.

Another response would carry a certain caution; that some of my friends are not willing to appear ridiculous, though they would dearly love to express themselves in the clothing they dream of. There is in these respondents an itching desire to be free from the convention of the day but it is a tiny flame, easily doused by the waves of insecurity. They also confess to a strange comfort in anonymity.

Then there are those who would respond, quite honestly, that they often plead with girls, generally ones they are not attracted to, to go shopping with them in order that they do not select items which would compromise the image they wish to project. They are not always shy in nature. They are simply cautious. They tend to enjoy being single, have a varied social circle and, most importantly, consider sexual attraction the most important pastime in their lives.

Some of them have no interest in clothing at all. The majority however have come to recognise the importance of ‘standing out’ when playing the field. However, there are many things they just will not do. One of my friends asked me why I wear bow ties. I informed him it was because I liked wearing them. He responded that he could never wear one unless it was part of his evening wear. Vaguely intrigued by his commonplace response I asked him why: “Because” he said “I’d look like a tit!”

Looking as ‘different’ as that is generally considered by men to be a non-starter in the attraction department, especially for heterosexual men. Indeed, even women can be rather scornful and abusive about men who they accuse of ‘trying too hard.’ Though they may quietly applaud the bravery of a man of idiosyncratic style, they generally have an asexual response to extraordinarily well-dressed men.

When I proffered photographic examples to some women (three in their twenties, two in their forties) recently for their opinions on the approachability and attractiveness of the gentlemen concerned, the immaculately and idiosyncratically dressed men – aside from Johnny Depp - received very low responses for reasons of ‘stiffness’ and ‘utter absence of sexual appeal.’ The moderately well-dressed gentlemen – jacket, trousers/jeans, no tie, no pocket square or other accessories – received the highest response. The reasons given were ‘ease of dress’, ‘avoidance of fuss’ and consequently, ‘strong sexual connection.’ The badly dressed men didn’t score as well on the whole but they often scored far higher than the immaculately dressed men, even amongst the older women, for reasons of ‘brazen sexuality’ and ‘gruff masculinity.’

When I suggested to these female respondents that it was preposterous of women to moan about badly dressed men when they themselves credited them far higher than those who practice clothing perfection, they agreed: it is preposterous, they said, and it makes absolutely no sense that somehow their sexual mind should prefer scruff over splendour. However, they suggested it has far more to do with current perceptions of fashion and style – not to mention the fact that they are but a tiny sample “I bet loads of girls” one of them said “would think a guy in a bow tie was hot as hell…” – and that there are likely to be perfect partners for every category of gentlemen presented. Lastly, I asked them to state, in their experience, taking into account all the possible views of their sex what they considered the ‘safest’ route to take to secure attractions. Without hesitation, they all selected the moderately well-dressed gentlemen.

The irony of all this is that gentlemen who fall into the category of the ‘immaculate’ might very well tone down their more eccentric ensembles when consorting with single women – and, when fully ensconced in a warm and loving relationship, take the first opportunity to express who they really are; “Honey! I’m breaking out the bow tie…”

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