The Ranchers Glove

Sunday was bitterly cold in London, which prompted me to think about winter time accessories.

It is often the case that you fail to appreciate those things which are common place to you. Therefore, I suspect that those readers from the US of A (which is the majority of you good folk) may not fully appreciate my long running obsession with the Rancher Glove.

Curiously, despite the welcome revival of American work wear as a trend, these gloves have been largely ignored. To me they’re as iconic a piece of American apparel as Bass Weejuns, button-down oxford shirts, Redwing boots or chinos. I can’t imagine Clint Eastwood without a pair –whether or not he actually wore them in any of his movies I don’t know. And other than a medieval gauntlet you’d be hard pressed to find a tougher and manlier glove.

Normally made of Deer Skin or even harder wearing Elk skin, they’re the perfect combination of form and function, designed for roping in cattle and laying out barbed wire on cold windswept prairies. Over time to patina changes, and they will become grubbier, which only ads character –rather like beaten up suede loafer.

There is also a curious resonance with gentleman’s apparel of the 20’s and 30’s. The colour alone is very reminiscent of those gloves often featured in Apparel Arts illustrations. With that in mind I’d wear them with anything from a Peacoat to traditional Covert coat.

Not only are they unavailable in the UK , it took me a fair amount of time to find out their proper name. I have found an English glove maker that will knock up a pair, at a reasonable price and of Deer skin. Somehow that seems just plain wrong, like going to Euro-Disney. You feel sullied, deceitful even; it’s just not the full Uncle Sam.

After 2 years of longing I still haven’t managed to get hold of pair. So those of you in a more advantageous position than I, enjoy what you have.

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The Wonders Of Bicester Village

I am a sucker for a good deal. Indeed, if one were being unkind it could be said that sometimes being a bargain gets in the way of my actually wanting something. Anywhere north of 80% off and I start to feel giddy.

For a long time I’ve been a fan of the Designer Outlet just outside York. That’s where my in-laws live and it’s a nice excursion when I’m up there for a few days. But recently I discovered Bicester Village; York has rather paled by comparison.

I went to Oxford University yet I think I only went to Bicester once (the outlet is a just a few minutes outside Oxford, around an hour from London). It was a bit of a disappointment - small, damp and not particularly large discounts. How that has changed in the intervening 10 years.

Most outlets offer few options for men. Perhaps a Hugo Boss and a Hackett; Paul Smith if you’re lucky. Most men spend their time wandering around the luxury labels - Gucci, Armani, Prada - looking at the relatively small selection catering to them rather than their other halves.

Bicester has a great Dunhill outlet. Plus Ferragamo, Zegna and Pal Zileri. And Aquascutum, Brooks Brothers and Church’s, Burberry, Tod’s and Gieves & Hawkes (a sad endictment of Gieves that). It’s got everyone. Even Ralph Lauren, a regular in this kind of shopping outlet, has an oversized store here with extreme discounts. There was a Purple Label cable-knit sweater that still haunts me - £695 reduced to £89.

But my favourite discovery was Loro Piana. A extremely luxurious Italian cashmere label, I didn’t realise they had a discount outlet anywhere - indeed, I’m not sure that management is keen for people to know about this one. I picked up a true investment piece: a three-button leather jacket lined with cashmere, soft yet hardy, already imbued with the feeling of 100 winter walks. It was 80% off. I staggered to the till, a little light-headed.

I think the scale of the discounts at the moment is unusual and driven by the economy. According to a regular visitor, increasing numbers of shoppers has meant that the standard discount is not as large as it used to be. The Village is also dominated by Asia women chasing branded handbags and boutique designers, but it’s big enough for everyone to get around - just don’t go the Saturday before Christmas.

The train from London Marylebone to Bicester North takes 50 minutes and costs £23 return. Then there’s a mini-bus shuttle that costs a further £4.40 return and takes about five minutes.

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Bring on the Camel

This time of year is perfect for textured jacketing like cord, providing elements of warmth and ideal for layering.

Dark browns, black and blue are perhaps the safe options this time of year. However, I think Camel works well as an alternative, particularly when combined with white jeans and pale grey knits. It’s not a combination I’ve used myself, but have long admired it on others -on those rare occasions I’ve seen it. These colours combined have a clean, crispness that I think suits this time of year.

Perhaps it’s the continental male’s ease with colour, or the milder continental winters but the use of white trousering in autumn/winter is particularly prevalent on the continent. It’s a look I expect to see featured on The Sartorialist more and more over coming weeks.

The inspiration for today’s post (the pictured jacket) comes care of London based Roderick Charles. A useful outfitters, their clothes are traditional in styling, but without the propensity to slim-fit or overt branding of Hackett and Ralph Lauren. I spotted the above needle cord jacket on their website, and reduced to £99 I thought it was a steal.

Having been founded in 1992 the company is a relatively new one. Born in the Square Mile it arose from a made to measure suiting business supplying City Gents with their uniform chalk stripe suits. It is a distinctly English company in styling and outlook. They pride themselves on sourcing British milled cloths for their clothing, which is reassuring from my perspective.

With a fully functioning commercial website, and international delivery, those of you living beyond the White Cliffs of Dover might find it a useful source for classic English kit…and a camel cord jacket.

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Proper Vintage

Those who know me are aware of my interest in vintage clothing. I have always had a fascination for the decades of bygone elegance. Some find my neo-Edwardian and inter-war recreations a little tiring; I can understand this point of view. It’s a little myopic to suggest that the only era of elegance in modern menswear lasted merely thirty odd years and that everything since has been a disastrous mish-mash of unfortunate trends. There was much to recommend the experimental tailoring of the 1960s, the dalliance with flares in the 1970s. There was an admirable bravery to these attempts at modernisation. Indeed, the modern ‘classic’ suit owes some of its constituent parts to the ‘forgettable’ decades. You only need a brief comparison of modern tailoring and that of the apparently evergreen 1930s to know they are really rather different. I for one prefer the slimmer, modern trousers and the flattering length of the modern jacket.

However, vintage clothing offers an increasingly unusual aesthetic for the gentleman of style. Mixing vintage with modern items offers an opportunity to produce singular and individualistic ensembles; there is no greater expression of the mixing capabilities of menswear than combining items with decades of difference. The rise of vintage clothing has largely complemented the acceptability of fashion shedding much of its self-consciousness; no one worries much about being ‘in fashion’ anymore. Vintage clothing, made for fashion styles long gone, is worn by people of all ages and of all incomes – it is happily classless and, importantly, is promoted by those in positions of influence as entirely acceptable. However, as many finger-wagging vintage-lovers have informed me, there is ‘vintage’ and then there is ‘proper vintage.’

‘Proper vintage’ items are of exceptional quality, in near immaculate condition and convey an authentic sense of an antiquated style. Examples include Edwardian and 1920s tailcoats, double breasted overcoats, specialist items like Victorian toppers, classic 1930s double breasted suits and heavy barathea wool evening dress. These items are increasingly rare. They are characteristically heavy and the items in the best condition are usually bespoke pieces made by English tailors for individual clients. While it may not be the same thing as purchasing bespoke made for oneself, the quality and outstanding style of the garments are worth investment.

One of the best sources of this sort of vintage clothing is Savvy Row, an amusingly named retailer of smart second-hand (vintage is a smart although not misrepresentative term) gentleman’s attire. I myself purchased an extremely chic and beautifully cut evening tailcoat from their selection of evening wear. This garment dates from the 1920s, has high and wide lapels, a flattering figure-hugging waist and is extraordinarily robust. It is unmistakably vintage. When I wore it to an event, with a boiled-front shirt, patent shoes and a red rose someone told me, to my great pleasure, that I looked like I had walked ‘straight outta the Twenties.’

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Sartorial Alchemy In Practice Part 2

I looked forward to my return visit to Graham Browne not only because I had given them the opportunity to take part in my alchemic experimentation but because I was eager to see the results of their tailoring; I was hoping to find what I had imagined in my mind’s eye. Should the results of my first use of their services be to my liking I would gladly commission further garments in confidence that they will be dealt with properly.

As well as the extraordinarily cheap-but-not-so-cheerful black double breasted jacket, I had also entrusted a disused Cordings covert coat. It was one of those hopeful parental purchases i.e. “You’ll just grow into it!” that I had ceased to wear. It was this garment that Russell first handed to me to try. From the oversized cape-like coat I remembered, it felt instantly different; tighter in all the right places, shoulders the correct width. No longer was I a boy in what appeared to be his father’s coat. The silhouette of the coat was far more pleasing. Russell nodded approvingly as we moved to the more tongue-in-cheek issue of the double breasted jacket.

The operations performed on the jacket needed to be rather subtle; if you cut a double-breasted jacket too shortly, you not only ruin the proportions of the jacket in relation to the position of the buttons but you also make the pockets look cartoonishly small. Not being particularly tall, I prefer jackets of standard length to be cut a little shorter and Russell had snipped the right amount from the length to retain the proportions. Russell had also been cautious, but correctly so, in his nipping of the waist – I wanted it to be really tight to my torso but to do so might have caused the material across the jacket to crumple unattractively. The only thing I may still do, as far as the fit is concerned, is reduce the width of the shoulders as they are still ever so slightly broad for my frame. However, this is a very minor point. Overall, I was very satisfied with the alterations. Russell was remarkably modest about his work and credited himself with no ‘alchemic’ transformation. The most he said for his work was that the jacket was ‘probably a bit better.’

I decided to add the cream buttons myself as I am always looking to practice my sewing skills. Being able to perform such basic needle work is very important for gentlemen that have creativity and alteration in mind – my nearest tailor charges £1.50 a button. I wore the item out the next day to test the fit properly and also to gauge the reactions on the garment’s aesthetics.

When sat down, I could comfortably wear the jacket buttoned up. It had lost the pre-alteration boxyness and felt tighter. The comments on the aesthetics said more about my peculiar taste than Russell’s work – they ranged from ‘You look like a pilot!’ to ‘The buttons are…quite striking’ – but overall, when I checked myself in reflections throughout the day, I felt far more comfortable and pleased with the jacket. When I bought it from eBay, I had laughed when I first tried it on; it was dull, boxy and unflattering. I hid it away for months and months like a figurative ‘sartorial-skeleton-in-the-cupboard.’ Now, though not exactly the gilt-edged garment I had envisaged, I have an interesting, becoming and well-fitting item that I am happy to wear.

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