Reptile Skin

Young children of my acquaintance are often curious about my wallet. And their curiosity intensifies when they learn it is hand made from genuine crocodile skin. They touch it tentatively and frequently flinch in fear when they run their fingers along the large scales. I would have reacted, were I their age, in the same way; seeing a creature’s skin on everyday products is somewhat macabre and terrifying for the young. Even fearsome animals that a child might draw back from in terror are pitied by the children, though they might take a considerable time to admit such pity.

Where or when I became desensitized to the use of reptile skin for whimsical fancy of mankind, I do not know; perhaps a lifetime of a common vilification of crocs and snakes has caused me to not only regard them with fear but also contempt. My wallet does not appeal to many of my acquaintance and some have labelled me both foolish and cruel for ‘supporting’ the trade in animal skins. However, many have expressed admiration and intrigue; ‘There is’ a friend told me ‘something exotic about it; your mind instantly connects with the life of the animal. You see it grinning, sloping off, living and dying…all at once.’

I expect there are those, of strong opinion, who will scoff and deride such romanticism. Of course, it is rather foolish chatter; when one considers the life of a creature has been lost (albeit, according to the documentation, not necessarily as a direct result of the demand in trade for animal skinned accessories), the smoke-ring thoughts of bloated consumers are of scant importance. However, if you are prepared to shoulder the guilty vanity of licensed reptilian products, there are a few things you should consider before purchase.

Crocodile and Alligator Skin Leather Accessories

The glorious texture of crocodile or alligator accessories is hard to replicate; imitation versions can be excellent, but they are usually no match for the real thing. Croc and gator skin is tough – very tough indeed – and no stiffly reinforced leather can measure up to it. This makes it, for items that pass in and out of pockets and bags, slide across hard tops, fall and tumble down abrasive surfaces, extremely practical; the gator or croc wallet is a classic and has been an acceptable form of money-keeping for almost a century. Likewise small items of luggage, though they are usually prohibitively expensive, manufactured from crocodile or alligator will last an incredible number of years. Other accessory items such as belts can be tasteful and even magnificent but that is where I would draw the line.

Crocodile or alligator shoes, whether they be made by an amateur cobbler in Bangkok or a master from Lobb, are, to me, the image of vulgarity. Though it might be true that they are also hardwearing, the croc shoe epitomises a brash, tasteless sort of man; the sort that pours vintage champagne over the bodies of sweating prostitutes, and the sort that personalises his number plates according to the chronological order of his vehicles.

Snakeskin

Though it had never appealed to me, my antipathy to snakeskin products was affirmed when I saw Derek Zoolander, played by Ben Stiller, pacing towards his distant and disapproving family in an entire snakeskin ensemble, with matching luggage. Whereas alligator and crocodile skin is hardwearing and very longlasting, snakeskin is actually rather fragile. And though Stiller’s costume was most certainly imitation, the patterns were actually rather ghastly on such a scale; snakeskin products do not have the subtlety (yes, subtlety) of gator or croc skin. When I see a snake belt or snakeskin boots or shoes I see a product that is neither practical nor attractive. And despite the relative expense and rarity of snakeskin, it always cheapens an ensemble rather than enriching.

Although I may be vilified for owning a croc skin wallet myself, I stand by the summation that while using the skin of some of the earth’s creatures seems barbaric and unnecessary in this day and age, the combined beauty and durability has been extremely hard for man to replicate.

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In Praise of Sartorial Individuality

In a particular movie scene, a Victorian gentleman makes his way into a particularly dubious establishment, something in the manner of an old coaching inn; full of rose cheeked, merry groups of drinkers, smiling and scowling in equal number. His magnificent formal evening dress, white tie, top hat and tails, shines in the dim light with a near celestial luminescence. The owner of the establishment, a portly man with a pompous ensemble of his own, stands in salute, instructs the entertainments to cease and announces with pride; “The Two Turtles is honoured by the visit of a gentleman.”

Such deference, though artificially portrayed, was not uncommon. Smartly dressed gentlemen were clearly identifiable among the rank masses, particularly in areas of town unfamiliar to the silk top hat and patent shoe. They were fawned over and bothered for their charity but generally, they were left rather well alone. Certainly they might have been the object of an optimistic theft in a dark alley on a gloomy evening, or the reason for a knowing nod, nervous glance or a hushed word, but generally whatever animosity there might have been to the educated and well-dressed, it was apparently well disguised.

These days, chastisement of chaps for the way they dress is, in my experience, commonplace. If you happen to be among certain groups of people in certain areas of cities, you come across certain persons I refer to as ‘spoilers’; spoilers, not because of the picnic-table fibreglass they attach to the back of their vehicles but because they often try and spoil the fun of dressing well. I remember walking past a growling trio who, rather startled by my advancing form, gave me the ‘once over’ and muttered ‘Poof!’ as I passed. I am little concerned by such antics. I don’t dress to attract attention or seek approval. Therefore, such appraisal is easily forgotten. But such events do cause ripples of thought; what would the world be like if everyone dressed the same?

If everyone dressed in a way one particular person, or one group of people, approved of the events of fashion conflict would surely never arise. Everyone would approve of one another, differences in such matters would be minute and inconsequential and you would have a uniformity of attire, similar to a day at Ascot or an ambassadorial dinner. However, if everyone dressed in glorious morning dress it would cease to be special and ceremonial; no one would be admired for their particular fashion or style. Clothing itself would cease to be important as, the natural progress of conflict is to cause discussion; and discussion which can divide as well as unite.

Looking at the glowing pictures of catalogue models, all perfectly groomed and attired, enjoying impossibly beautiful afternoons on Cambridge punts, elegant dinners on Tuscan terrazzas and glorious sunsets in Maine, it is difficult not to conclude that fashion’s message is clearly: ‘Dress like this… and the world will be beautiful.’ Of course, if more people took more interest in clothing and cultivated attractive personal styles, it would be an exotic occasion indeed, to walk down the street, oohing and ahhing at the cornucopia of elegance on show. I have been to several locations where I have relished and celebrated the sartorial artistry of those that surrounded me and the knee jerk reaction is quite naturally; ‘If only more people dressed like that!’ A famous writer I had the pleasure to meet and ask for an autograph remarked upon hearing my first name; ‘Ahh, Winston. More people should be called Winston…although if there were too many, it’d be rather terrible.’

There is nothing that cheapens quite like popularity, or I should say, over popularity. The fashionistas of my acquaintance, as fickle as they are, are loyal to one ideal; as soon as a garment appears in Primark, in the eyes of fashion, it is dead. Although such slavish devotion makes me chuckle heartedly, I empathise with such thinking. Men of style and flair who visit these pages, looking for advice or seeking to provide their own valued input, are in a minority. I for one am happy that, as a minority, it remains; stylish gentlemen are jewels to be enjoyed on occasion and for their charming individuality and expression of sartorial understanding. As they are, they shine as precious stones; treasured or ridiculed, berated or applauded, either is preferable to the idea of an oppressively numb uniform world.

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Suede Shoes: Should I?

When I was a young lad my parents, ever practically minded, used to consider that the tricky problem of buying clothes could be mitigated by purchasing garments that were rather too large for me but that could be temporarily altered. The sad fact of the matter was mine was an adolescent body not capable of achieving the ideals of growth that my parents had envisaged. However, I am grateful to my parents for their input. Such practical thinking is admirable, and as they were intent on buying me items of very high quality, it was also rather necessary; I would soon have outgrown a perfectly fitted trouser at the age of 15.

Thinking practically about your wardrobe can save you money. I think a good number of people prefer to devote their time to other activities and expect their clothing results to be as instantaneous as their Starbucks coffee; walk in to shop, find needed black shoes, pay, walk out. The devil is that the product that has been made so readily available to our purchaser, like the Starbucks coffee, is probably overpriced. To get the right results from clothes shopping a good deal of research is needed. It’s preposterous to expect that the average retailer on the high street can be trusted to provide a product that offers, as well as style, long term value for money.

It’s perhaps ironic then that the more practically minded purchaser is apt to make impractical purchases. One such purchase might be a pair of suede shoes.
In the proper hands, suede shoes can be an excellent addition to a gentleman’s footwear collection. However, unlike full grain leather, which possesses the protective ‘skin layer’, suede is only from the soft underside of the animal’s skin; making it softer but also far less durable. Suede also has a tendency to absorb liquid very quickly, making suede products unsuitable for wear in wet periods. And no matter how cautious I have been with it in the past, it has always ended up looking tired, worn and dirty far too soon after the purchase.

“This” I was told by a charming and multi-lingual cobbler in Rome “does not always have to be so.” He informed me of protective sprays, brushing techniques and new suedes, all of which I was previously aware, that had been created for what he termed “the lazy people.” I surmised that lazy people are unlikely to purchase suede shoes because they are more decorative than practical. When new, they look gorgeous; the subtle matte finish is the footwear equivalent of a chocolate truffle. However, taking the decision to buy a pair is momentous. Suede shoes are the difficult child, the young offender and the family puppy; they require a great deal of care and attention. They should really be worn infrequently and never when it is raining. There are shoe care guides aplenty that offer ‘solutions’ for worn, wet or dirty suede but the unhappy fact of the matter is, your suede will never quite be the same again once it has shown the ugly evidence of use.

Lifting the napp on worn areas with a brush will not restore your shoes to their former glory, and dirt marks on light suede are unlikely to be completely lifted even after hours of attempt with a putty rubber. This is not to dissuade (please, excuse the pun) the reader from considering shoes in such a material. I myself have longed for a pair of black suede Stemar lace-ups that slipped through my fingers several seasons ago and despite my consideration that, though splendid, they would soon be irretrievably damaged by the persistent dirt and wet of London’s streets, I would still fall to my knees, irrationally and theatrically, and beg them to be mine.

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A Different Link

“Gentlemen”, so I was once told by a particularly patriarchal and patronising old man, “do not wear jewellery.” When I challenged this assertion with evidence to the contrary – that of smart gentlemen wearing rings and watches – he scoffed that the rings (‘likely to be wedding rings’ he suggested) were more like manacles and that wristwatches were too practical to be ever considered jewellery. Though this gentleman did happen to be one of the fustiest characters I have ever encountered, I did concede that he had a point; male jewellery tends to be hidden (like a necklace), vulgar (like an earring or a bracelet) or functional. We are quite the less decorated sex. Whereas women adorn their necks and wrists with gold, silver and gemstones, men plod along plainly. Not that this should not be so. The bejewelled men of preceding centuries, perfumed powdered and puffed, seem to be awkward and inconsistent representations of masculine style; a man is very easily over ornamented.

This is perhaps why wristwatches have become so significant for the modern man. Being able to tell the time is not something one needs such contraptions for in the modern age; mobile phones and Mp3 players, carried around by many men, not only carry such basic information as the relevant hour and minute but also the day of the month, the average rainfall and the time in Honolulu. Choosing to buy an attractive watch has much more to do with aesthetics and prestige than mere function; over half of those truly vulgar wristwatches covered in diamonds are so glitzed with the gems that it makes it nigh on impossible to read the time. A man could not claim he needed the watch to function as a watch; it’s merely an expensive bracelet that happens to have a watch face.

And so we come to the rub of the issue: functionality - the perfect, and quite necessary, excuse.

A man’s daily clothing offers little in the way of potential bejewellment; shirt studs are strictly for evening shirts only and tie pins, though elegant, are really occasional and not everyday. Tie ‘clips’ or ‘bars’ can smarten up the wear of shirts and ties, particularly when the clip is fastened to highlight a particularly lustrous silk. However, wearing one everyday can be a little repetitive, considering it’s prominence in an outfit.

Cufflinks are the one everyday item that can add what has been referred to as ‘bling’; the merest flick of the wrist and the ‘jewels’ are exposed. The essential factor? They are entirely necessary to keep one’s double cuffs securely fastened. As their function is simple and, once fastened, they can be easily forgotten, a man can afford to decorate as conservatively or as garishly as he wishes.

Buying cufflinks is very much a matter of personal taste. I tend to avoid the twee hot and cold taps, the dire dollar symbols and anything with Playboy insignia. Jan Leslie and Deakin & Francis are excellent, albeit expensive, manufacturers of individual, attractive and tasteful links. Though novelty formats, such as glittering frogs and insects, are not always favoured by very serious gentlemen, they can offer that little touch of humour to an otherwise staid ensemble; even lending a hand to identify, in a harmless and playful way, the identity of the wearer: for example, the charming practice of an Upper East Sider in wearing the delightful ‘wasp’ links from Jan Leslie.

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The Dandy is Back

Dandies, according to the most recent publication of L’Uomo Vogue, are back. In fact, the Italian men’s fashion bible is so confident of their return and their reinstatement at the upper end of fashionable society that they devoted nearly an entire 450 page issue to the dandy renaissance; Robert Downey Jr was pictured larking around in cravats, monocles and top hats, Matthias Schweighöfer in dandific and bizarre ensembles and positions at a verging-on-seedy outdoor location and even Zinedine Zidane managed to look genteel and overtly elegant in a velvet evening jacket with an enormous bow tie.

Dandies fell out of favour in the twentieth century. After the excess of the 1890s, the frightful and catastrophic Great War and the gradual rise of the simply-attired proletariat, sympathy and celebration of dandified men had begun to wane. King Edward VIII, the Duke of Windsor post abdication, was the ‘last gasp’ of the Establishment dandy-world. A century after the demise of one of the most fashion conscious and great spending monarchs, George IV – a man who relied on the sartorial advice of the dandy of dandies, Beau Brummell – it seemed the world had had enough of a style that seemed at odds with the concerns and ideals of the future. Throughout much of the twentieth century, the dandy was an awkward and often ridiculed figure – a man who dwelled, unhappily or happily, in the underworld of the planet’s great cities.

The tenor of this collection of articles appeared to be a celebration of dandies; a coup of marketing that sold the concept to a wider, fashion-driven audience. Despite this apparent comprehensiveness, one might read all 450 (or make that 150 – advertisements you know…) pages of this bulky volume and not be any clearer about what a dandy actually is.

Some people regard flowery, effete gentlemen who adopt bright and extremely decorative clothing as dandies; others disagree and opt for the fastidious and immaculately attired. And others suggest that a modernity, through an acknowledgment of fashions and a revolutionary creativity, is the true mark of the dandy. None of them, and yet all of them, are correct.

Dandies are fortunately free from the constraints of pigeon-holing; an inelegant and unnecessary practice. Since dandyism relies on creativity and evolution, many would align with the maxim that to define is to limit. In any case, a ‘dandy’ desirous of being referred to as such is rarely anything other than a poseur.

The Green Carnation Dandy

The Green Carnation Dandy is a relic of the late Victorian era; an era of monumental wealth and near-Roman excess. Art is at the centre of this Dandy’s world. As Coward’s brilliant lyric from Bitter Sweet explains; “We believe in Art, Though we’re poles apart From the fools that are thrilled by Greuze. We like Beardsley and Green Chartreuse.” The Green Carnation Dandy is to some rather like a fop sartorially, but for the cultivation of his poetic language and refined speech. Anthony Blanche adopted waterfall pocket squares, extravagant bow ties and striped jackets in the manner of a Macaroni, but his beautiful manners and personal refinements suggested dandyism. Likewise Oscar Wilde, who would often dress in outrageous fashions suggesting an utter rejection of the Beau’s code of a dandy: that a well-dressed man should not be noticed. The magnificent flamboyance of this Dandy is utterly conspicuous; he is very likely to use words merely for pleasant effect.

The Immaculate Dandy

The one Dandy who follows the Beau’s lead rather more closely is the Immaculate. An apt description as he does appear, when fully dressed, utterly untouched and almost waxwork in manifestation. Hercule Poirot and Andrea Sperelli are excellent examples of this type; the very picture of an intimidating personification of symmetry. Exquisitely tied bows and ties, flawlessly starched shirts and shoes ‘shined to reflection.’ Empirically, he would always be considered, at the very least, well-dressed. Modern proponents of this style do tend to remain faithful to classic, and often archaic, items of dress. Art is certainly important to the Immaculate but fashion is usually irrelevant. Decoration is rather more controlled than that of the Green Carnation Dandy and usually more discreet.

The Modern Dandy

The Modern Dandy is very likely to be the personification of a smartly dressed follower of fashion; unlike the Immaculate, the Modern will consider and favour trends. Where the Green Carnation Dandy adopts a velvet jacket, buttonhole and silk cravat, and the Immaculate a starched shirt, bow tie and 1930’s suit, the Modern might opt for skinny denim with initialled slippers, and an unbuttoned Byronic white linen shirt with a smoking jacket. The juxtaposition of different styles, and different periods, is simply not an issue for the Modern. He likes taking risks and enjoys the success of his experimentation. Lapo Elkann, whose undeniable creativity has produced some fabulous and peculiar results, is the paradigm of this type.

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