Book Review: History of Men’s Fashion


History of Men’s Fashion: What the Well Dressed Man is Wearing, by Nicholas Storey, is a book evidently written with real passion for the subject.

Personal touches abound, such as Storey’s relation of the fact that Lord Nelson’s hat was stolen from public display “in a planned raid on the National Maritime Museum by some utter tyke(s)”. Equally, Storey suggests that the English taste for wearing red socks with a dark suit “always raise[s] a smile” because “a glimpse of the daring and dashing and dangerous lurking beneath the trousers suggest[s] that these qualities may lurk in the wearer too.”

This personal, and subjective, touch makes the book enjoyable reading. But it is also the book’s greatest weakness. I would not recommend it to anyone looking for a primer on menswear, which is ostensibly what it aims to be.

Facts, stories and originations are the book’s strength. I did not know that originally soft felt hats were unacceptable for a man to wear before the end of the London Summer Season. Neither did I know that steel-ribbed umbrellas were invented in 1852 by Samuel Fox as a way of disposing of surplus corset stays.

His description of Beau Brummell is instructive. “Brummell’s ‘exquisite propriety’ was the reverse of foppery – which is generally (mistakenly) associated even now with Brummell’s name,” he says. “There was nothing remarkable about his dress except that it was modest, subdued and most proper to the occasion and of the best materials and making. Strictly, he was a Dandy and certainly not a Popinjay.”

Storey’s point is well argued. And it speaks to our loss of language over the years (or possibly of the people to describe) that few could separate those three words, fop, dandy and popinjay, with decent definitions.

The section of History of Men’s Fashion on evening dress and more formal wear is the most impressive for depth of research. Most people are familiar with black dinner jackets. The slightly more sartorial are aware that midnight blue is a perfectly acceptable and indeed more practical alternative (it looks more black than black under artificial light). But few realise it can be virtually any colour and that Noel Coward wore them in brown. With matching tie and pumps, made at the hands of Douglas Hayward.

Indeed, Storey tells us that “when Brummell began the process which eventually led to monochrome evening dress, his evening coat was…blue, the waistcoat was white, his pantaloon trousers…black and his stockings striped.” It’s hard to argue with anyone about the etiquette of black tie when that little get-up was its starting point.

However, the space allocated to evening wear speaks also of the relevance of this book. Of the 182 pages, almost half is dedicated to chapters four through eight – on formal morning dress, evening dress, leisure wear, sporting dress and hats. Unless the reader of this book goes to enough formal events to justify buying two white waistcoats, or requires hunting breeches, much of this will only be of academic interest.

Which is great, for me. I am probably in the early stages of being an academic on the subject and the facts here are riveting, fascinating, indispensable.

But anyone else will find the book frustrating. It is not really a history of men’s fashion. It includes historical notes and facts during a personal discussion of areas of men’s dress.

Neither is it what the well-dressed man is wearing. That sub-title is a quote from Bertie Wooster, in Right-ho! Jeeves. But what is described is not, despite what Storey might hope, what well-dressed men are wearing today. It is a description of what a very narrow band of British society should be wearing, according to the author.

Throughout the book Storey instructs the reader what he should buy and in what quantity. Under socks he says “have three dozen pairs of wool and nylon half hose” plus “say, six pairs of silk half hose evening stockings and the same quantity of woollen shooting stockings”. That’s 48 pairs of socks, without the ankle socks permitted on the tennis court. How many people do you know who need that many socks?

The recommendations for where to buy your clothes are equally narrow. The best of Jermyn Street and Savile Row is recommended, along with a few less-pricey options. But almost everywhere the reader is encouraged to go bespoke, often because, as is admitted with the riding boots recommended, you actually can’t get them ready to wear.

The attitude is best summed up by the section “the necessary hats to have,” which includes a black top hat, a grey top hat, an opera hat and a hunting-weight silk hat.

Indeed, one could argue that some of the outfits recommended in here would not be in the spirit of Brummell – they would neither be modest or subdued.

At Wimbledon he recommends you wear a blazer, white ducks, co-respondent shoes, a cravat and a panama hat. Even in the members’ enclosure that would hardly be subdued. At Twickenham, meanwhile, Storey says “one should wear cords, a jumper, the Barbour, a cap and stout country shoes.” In what sense “should” one wear that? Is it a tradition going back to the Edwardians?

This book is a treasure trove of facts about British menswear. But it talks as much about the history of tennis (from the Egyptians) as it does about the raw materials of suits. And gives even more space to a rant about the disappearance of country life in the UK, the EU’s agricultural policy and cynical real estate developers.

To the right man, I recommend it. But if you don’t own many books on menswear, buy anything by Alan Flusser first.


Simon Crompton is a journalist and a style enthusiast living in London, who blogs at He has too many suits.


  1. Simon,
    I have to agree that the finest books for men to start with would certainly be Alan Flusser’s then progress from there. I too think his written work stands as the timeless classic staples of tasteful men’s styling.

  2. But it’s strange how Flusser doesn’t follow his own advice at all, in the way he dresses. Does this mean that the rules for classic style eventually bore the man who knows them well? If so, doesn’t that tend to invalidate the rules?

  3. Kurt, you raise a valid point. I have had trouble with that same question myself for sometime now.

  4. Michael Opie says:

    I enjoyed this book too. This review seems balanced and fair (Poles-apart Esquire and Maxim have given it a thumbs-up)but I disagree that the book appears to be presented as a ‘primer’ on men’s wear: – consistent with its wry humour, there is something of fantasy about it – but, surely, nothing wrong with that – or indeed just an enjoyable read!

  5. alec daunt says:

    is the definitive primer for british/anglophile taste –
    getleman-a timeless fashion
    bernhard roetzel.?

  6. Simon Crompton says:

    Kurt, I wrote something on this a while back on this site. It can be found here:
    Once you know the rules it becomes most fun to break them. But I still don’t understand the pinstriped jacket with jeans. Perhaps the dynamic is the same as political extremes – if you go far enough to come round in a complete circle. Flusser meets the unstylish slob on the street.


  7. Simon, I’d forgotten it was you (linked to by Le Dandy of Northern Cal) who brought the Flusser Paradox to my attention in the first place! And then I saw other instances of it elsewhere. But the bit about knowing the rules and then breaking them … I don’t know. We’re not talking about one of those artful Italians who wears his four-in-hand deliberately askew or his watch outside the cuff. Flusser breaks so many rules, so often, that I think he DOESN’T LIKE THEM, at least not anymore. Including rules supposedly based on inherent principles about what looks good (never mind stylish). For instance in his book he criticizes long-faced Leslie Howard for wearing a long-tipped, narrow-spread collar, and yet there he is on Charlie Rose with a wide-spread collar that makes his wide, round face look even wider. I wondered how Charlie was able to keep a straight face while complimenting his guest on the neatness of his attire. Like most people I think Flusser’s book is first-rate, but I wonder what he himself thinks of it.

  8. I think the old line “do as I say and not as I do” may apply.

  9. Now Kurt, you wrote,
    “We’re not talking about one of those artful Italians who wears his four-in-hand deliberately askew or his watch outside the cuff.”

    Who could you possibly mean?

  10. Michael Opie says:

    As to the Storey’s ‘appliance of science’ I have found this – see the link at the 6th entry:

  11. Sol Kashman says:

    Most of these comments are all very well – but they don’t really deal with the review or the book in hand and are off-beat – I am not interested in bloggers’ views on Alan Flusser’s apparent self-contradictions – too much to deal with. I am still undecided whether to buy this book and unconvinced that many of you have seen more than this review – which, itself splits its own arse sitting on the fence.

  12. Simon Crompton says:

    I think you’ll find there were references to two other reviews here, on Esquire and Maxim, both of which were shallow but universally positive. There has also been some discussion of it, together with an interview with Mr Storey, on the London Lounge


  13. Sol Kashman says:

    I have now seen one review. It is short but conclusive. This does not make it shallow, does it? After all for 2 top-selling men’s mags to give any space to any book these days – with so many books published – is remarkable in itself. That, plus the intrigue of your inconclusive review make this a must buy for me. One thing – how does the man to whom you do recommend it identify himself?

  14. Sol – I would recommend it to anyone that already has at least two books on the subject, of which one is by flusser

  15. Sol Kashman says:

    Thank you, Simon.