Why the fuss: Abercrombie & Fitch

Walking up to Regent Street is a regular activity of mine. I walk across St James Park, up the Duke of York steps wedged beneath the clotted cream Nash Carlton House Terrace, and up Lower Regent Street towards Piccadilly Circus. I tend to avoid the Circus due to the high concentration of people congregating; taking pictures, loitering, pointing, pushing and shoving. If I were a tourist I could tolerate it. However, seeing it everyday is rather distressing.

What I used to do was take the route up Swallow Street. Until I realised that I saved even more time avoiding the throng by walking up Sackville and turning right down Vigo Street. However, I have recently had to avoid this route on particular days and resort back to Swallow and even Air Street to access Regent; my favourite shopping street. The reason? Well, it has nothing to do with the quiet establishments of Sackville Street – an ‘always empty’ travel agency, a stockbrokers, a couple of tailors, a book and printshop and Jasper Conran. No, even Vigo – despite the arrival of Napket and Starbucks – is not the reason for the consistent waves of people moving to and from Regent Street. At the end of Vigo, as you come to the corner of Gieves & Hawkes on Savile Row, you see the veritable ‘ants nest’; the line of dashing people can be traced back to a large and handsome building that sits on the corner of Burlington Gardens and Savile Row.

The steady stream of humanity moving in and out of this building would give the impression to the passer by that this is a structure of great importance. Is it a museum? Or perhaps an important royal residence?

However, passing by the building, from the strong shower-gel-perfume they seem to inject into the atmosphere to the low thud of vocal techno, you soon realise that this is no attraction of culture. The topless man, shining in oil, at the entrance to the store makes you think it could be some bizarre club; but it is only the bags that are carried out of the building that expose it as a shopping emporium.

Abercrombie & Fitch, although new to the area – an area of discreet art galleries, luxury goods and smart Italian restaurants – is easily the biggest, and noisiest, draw. Shoppers alien to the quiet Mayfair streets sit outside disconsolately, guarding their Bruce Weber-photograph bags full of booty. But what sort of booty is it?

The little I knew of the brand came from word of mouth and popular culture. I remember listening to the song ‘Summer Girls’ by the Lyte Funky Ones, when I was a school lad, in which the lyrics confessed a partiality for girls that wear Abercrombie attire. A&F was one of those American brands that was generally unavailable in the UK and this hard-to-get-hold-of aspect only heightened the curiosity. Since then, it has made numerous appearances, and received many a mention, in many Californian drama series to which, naturally, the youth of the UK have become rather addicted.

Though a born sceptic, I gave the store the benefit of the doubt and paid a visit to see what all the excitement was about. When I walked in I almost stumbled into inanimate objects for, much to my bewilderment, the store is completely devoid of natural light. It’s rather like walking into one of those Disney ‘rides’; I half expected a robotic pirate to thrust a sword at me from the shadows. In the dim light I was approached by a good number of muscular Narcissi who were helpful, but conspicuously so. I spotted racks, piled extraordinarily high, with colour and so I made my way over for examination.

The incredible thing about Abercrombie & Fitch clothing is that it is the least interesting thing in the shop, or I should say, the least distracting. Apart from a couple of pleasantly striped but poorly constructed shirts, most of the clothing looked like it had washed up on a beach in Thailand; the flotsam from a backpacker’s cruise across the waters of South East Asia. The branding was prominent and repetitive; A&F stamps on polo shirts, t-shirts and even shorts. I looked for clothing more suited to a cooler environment, but could find none; it appears it is always summer in the Abercrombie world or, at least, ‘Forever California.’

Incredibly, though Abercrombie & Fitch clothing cannot boast design or uniqueness, it comes at a hefty price. The polo shirts, ‘custom washed’ – and blighted by hideous white ‘stamping’ – were as expensive as Ralph Lauren’s, a minute’s walk away.
Everything in the shop was exorbitantly priced; I imagined poor parents shuffling through with their children, being asked to purchase shirts and shorts, of dubious value, for more than the cost of their hotel. Nothing I touched reassured me of there being any fair worth in the shop. There were no special materials; no silk or cashmere, nothing that had taken work or craftsmanship. Nothing that required more than a squiggle of a pencil from an infant.

My understanding of A&F is that they are selling a ‘lifestyle’; the ‘Californian dream.’ When I compare this ‘ideal’ with the, oh let’s say the more ‘East Coast’ ideal of Ralph Lauren down the road, it’s difficult to believe you are talking about products and ideology from the same nation. Ralph Lauren’s shop has a focus on design classicism; cut, material and quality of finish. Abercrombie, though comparatively priced, offers none of this. It merely offers the purchaser a simple garment and the ‘privilege’ of wearing the Abercrombie name across the chest, thigh or any other area of the body broad enough to emblazon a logo. Ralph used to do this – Polo Sport was an offender - and a few of his items have overly generous references to the designer. However, I am always reassured that items from his store, though certainly symbols of status, have many more additional qualities to recommend them.

Summer Cardigans

The strange thing that many seem to forget about summer is how much time you actually spend outside because of the pleasant weather. Dining al fresco is common at this time of year. As is drinking in street cafes, late walks through the park, barbecues and picnics; there is a much greater emphasis on spending time outside, even when the sun has long set. Naturally, at warmer times, people are prepared to wear clothing to suit the climate. It’s sensible not to be overdressed; sweating away in multiple layers is ill advised. But so, I would argue, is leaving the casual knitwear at home to shiver with cold in the surprising cool of an evening. No matter how warm the day, perching yourself outside for an extended duration as the evening draws in and the temperature falls is inadvisable unless you have suitable clothing to keep you warm.

One of the most sensible items to take with you is a cardigan. A cardigan is a smart addition to an outfit if you happen to be wearing shorts and it is rather a happy medium between the ever so casual jumper and the much more formal jacket. They are fantastically versatile for the summer as well. I have a strange habit of getting cold upper arms when the shock cool of a summer evening arrives and I can slip on a cardigan, unbuttoned, and rejoice in the pleasant and subtle warmth. The question is; what type of cardigan is most appropriate and why.

1. The thicker cardigan

Thicker and heavier cardigans are better when you are more exposed to the elements. They can feel a little bulky for very warm days, even when worn undone but they can still look appropriate and stylish with most ensembles. Some of the best colours for such cardigans are navy blue, white and red; simple and classic colours, adaptable and masculine. They are particularly suitable, and befitting, for extended visits to the coast where the cool breeze over the sea can really chill a summer night. One of the key elements of this type is the attractive shawl collar, a feature of comforting elegance that can be turned up for increased protection from the cold.

2. The silk-cashmere cardigan

The silk-cashmere cardigan is indispensible in the summertime. Elegant in the glorious ripple of material, the pleasant texture and wonderful touch against the skin, it remains beautifully casual when open, falling gracefully at the sides of the torso. If it cools up later on, it can be buttoned and if it is really punishingly hot in the middle of the day, it can be artfully draped over the shoulders. Black and white are fantastic colours, again for reasons of versatility. Pima cotton is an acceptable alternative if silk-cashmere is considered too extravagant but the material will pill with extensive use.

3. The cable cardigan

It’s rather like ‘the thicker cardigan’ in construction, but the cable cardigan is a little special; the cabling and subtle off white colour are perfect for summertime and it is an excellent option for more traditional outfits. Whether worn with a favourite pair of shorts or some elegant chinos, it will give you an aura of an Edwardian sportsman; genteel with a good punch of nostalgia, and this ‘sporty’ aspect to the garment is appropriate for family picnics with a quick game of cricket (or indeed baseball).

Bright Trousers

One of my favourite pleasures of the summer, something that lasts all too short a time, is basking in the bountiful beauty of colour. The magnificent flowers and trees, the lush cool blue-green waters, brightly coloured exotic fruits that quench your thirst on a warm blue day; the summer can be a blinding plenitude of tone. It’s rather sad then that on my more blithesome days, I have not always been able to mirror the glory of nature in the summertime. I have been comparatively moderate. Nature has blasted through the kaleidoscope and I have remained relatively lifeless. What am I driving at? Simply that colour is needed at this time of year; and a good deal of it.

It’s difficult to wear a great acreage of colour and remain conservatively dressed. A pink or bright green suit sounds very natty and extremely daring but I find the overall effect of such loud ensembles rather disconcerting. A man dressed thus will push the concept of individual style to the very precipice; where the long fall into the flames of absurdity may be viewed. It may be possible to temper the strength of the suit with a far more conservative choice of shoe, shirt and tie but even then, the kiwi coloured man smacks of something zany; a caricature of something from Roald Dahl.

I believe the quenching solution to a thirst for colour lies with the unity of contrasting jacket and trouser; of the staid and the gaudy, the bright and the dull. Some might favour a brightly coloured jacket with trousers, perhaps a lemon yellow with some light grey trousers. The ‘bright jacket/dull trouser’ combination certainly works, but is it manageable and indeed affordable? The other option, the ‘bright trouser/dull jacket’ combination is certainly more popular and works magnificently well. Beautiful berry red trousers with a cool navy blue blazer; a dark brown linen two-button with pink chinos, or even a black double breasted jacket with some tangerine jeans, brightening up your legs is a fantastic way to embrace and reflect the glorious colour of the summer.

The difference between the jacket/trouser combinations is a matter of personal taste and budget. There will be those who look on their legs unfavourably; who would not dream of glorifying them in colour. I have had reservations about the bright trouser in the past, but it is largely a psychological problem that it is possible to overcome. The trousers are very eye-catching, but therein lies the charm.

The same can be said of the bright jacket. Although more expensive than trousers, and available in fewer colours and from fewer retailers, the richly coloured jacket will shock those virginal to its effect when they first enter the dressing room; a bright orange jacket I tried on recently, despite being of a fruity and gorgeously deep colour, overpowered me rather too much for me to accept it as a garment for my wardrobe. I feared that I do not have the stature nor the frame to compete.

However, I can envisage the same jacket looking dazzling on many men; and worn with a pair of navy cotton trousers, the bright/dull combination, the meeting of the fantastical with the mundane, would complete the perfect image for the summer.

Trouser Length

One of the most vivid memories of my early sartorial confrontations with my father is of his exasperation at the position of my trousers. I was in some ways an awkward teenager, both physically and emotionally, and I was for a period rather influenced by my own age-consciousness. I believed that my youth was best at odds with the traditional way of things; I wore trousers, quite absurd to me now, of more than questionable length and style. When I dig them out on nostalgic sojourns back to the family home, shaking my head and tut-tutting at the ‘way things used to be’, I still cannot quite believe how poor some of my clothing choices had been. And the ghosts of this mistaken attitude towards my wardrobe are everywhere. For there seems to be no commoner mistake, for a suited gentleman, than that of the ill-fitting trouser.

I take the long walk home from Chancery Lane, passing accountants, lawyers, civil servants and the odd banker and it never fails to flummox me how poorly cut many of their trousers are. For on a good number of them, though they shuffle along in acceptable jackets of the correct size and style, my eye is horrified to see, as it moves down the body, the folds, nay waves, of trouser flopping onto the shoe.

‘Look’, the hypothetical reader would begin in response to my bewilderment, ‘these are off the rack suits and these guys probably don’t like wearing them, and they don’t care; it’s that simple.’ Although this is a valid point, I would wager at least 2 in 5 of the ‘overabundant trouser brigade’ would be interested in changing their look were they given visual examples of a better cut of trouser. It might be a want of caring, or it might be a lack of experience; some people are simply more fussy when it comes to shapes, lines and silhouettes. Rather like a man who wanders into an art gallery, not really knowing what he likes, but stating the simple philosophy that he’ll ‘Know what he likes when he sees it.’

My own revulsion is a reaction to the sight of the disruption of the straightness of a leg by the way the trouser concertinas into the shoe. However, there are those who would themselves be rather put out by a leg that was cut too short, that sat too low at the back heel or that made their feet seem awkwardly larger. It all depends on taste, and the world is practically an enormous gallery for men wishing to find ‘what they like.’

The Perfect End

This cut of trouser is my personal favourite. My father favours slightly more length in his trouser but I prefer there to be as little fold at the bottom as possible; the trouser sits just over the laces, leaving nearly the entire shoe exposed. Tailors would disagree and disapprove such a length; they would prefer the trouser to fall down at the back of the shoe to sit just above the heel itself.

The Thom Brown

Mr Thom Brown is often referred to as the ‘saviour’ of men’s fashion, but few men seem to agree with his cut of trouser. It is drastically short, often comic in effect, and though it is indeed very youthful and rather quirky, it’d take a brave banker or an audacious accountant to swank into work on a Monday morning.

The Tailor’s Favourite

Some contemporary tailors would disagree, but the traditional ‘tailors favourite’ cut of trouser (though many will predictably claim to ‘tailor’ to the individual client) is the trouser that, as previously mentioned, sits just above heel and covers the laces. For older gentlemen, this is the most common; Prince Charles’ trousers are perfectly cut in this manner.

The Question of Buttoning

Beautiful sunny mornings, warm and long lasting evenings, mild nights and the gentlest of gentle breezes; what does it amount to? It amounts to, dear readers, a real problem as far as clothing is concerned. High pressure and days drenched in sunshine can be problematic for those accustomed to the formality of a suit. It is particularly problematic for gentlemen who have a predilection for wearing double breasted suits.

I happened to be wandering down Chancery Lane on a particularly close afternoon when I felt obligated to stand aside to allow several suited chaps to pass in the awkwardness of the scaffolding, erected for renovation work on one of the twentieth century buildings along that artery of legal London. All of them were wearing double-breasted jackets and all of them had them unbuttoned. They paced with purpose but there was something slightly childish about their silhouette; unbuttoned they looked weary and slipshod.

On a different afternoon I was walking along the same street having taken a pleasant shortcut through the magnificent Lincoln’s Inn when I crossed the path of an elderly man in a beautiful blue cotton suit; single breasted and single buttoned, his jacket was open, allowing whatever fragments of breeze were conjured, on what was a mercilessly hot afternoon, to cool his torso. In contrast to the trio I had encountered before, he looked utterly urbane; the sophistication was evidenced by his turned up sleeves and the excellent shape of the jacket. He was certainly unbuttoned, but still composed.

And is that it? A simple resale of the much flogged notion that double-breasted suits be buttoned up? Well, not quite. You see I do stand by the notion as correct; double-breasted suits do look better buttoned up. But then so in fact do single breasted suits. Chasing down a man in a single breasted suit that looks better ‘unbuttoned’ is a challenge; ask a chap in a two or three button to fasten one of them and his figure is instantly altered, and usually for the better.

Most readers will probably be interested, and experienced, in purchasing ‘off the rack’ suits. And most of these suits purchased will meet the requirement of ‘sufficient formality.’ However I think it is a failure of design that most suits cut for the everyday man look unsatisfactory unless the material is drawn into the waist by the securing of a button. I always feel that ‘unbuttoned glory’ is possible and achievable with a suit – consider the magnificent frock coat and morning coat designs of the recent past – and would always advocate a little adjustment to make the unbuttoned man a good deal more elegant.

Unbuttoning is to be expected; there’ll be the long days at the office, the warm afternoons dragging laptops and luggage to the airport and the relaxation occasions in the local wine bar after the clock has chimed 6. It is important to attempt to retain as much of the ‘pinch’ created by buttoning that maintains the correct positioning of the jacket so it is vital to assess suits as a buttoned and unbuttoned possibility. If there is insufficient ‘pinch’ then the jacket has a tendency to ‘fall away’; too much and the jacket is likely to constrict movement.

After musings on the state of my own wardrobe, I came to the radical conclusion that as I am in possession of a few jackets with insufficient structure to wear unbuttoned, I shall only wear them as buttoned. Structure-free jackets can be charming and rather youthful, but as I have dictated to myself, they do not have the strength to stand on their own without that mighty ally of the jacket; the humble button.