On Heritage As Such

As I have mentioned before, the last few weeks have seen a slew of fashion shows and events, and the onslaught of yet another season’s trends and particulars. But, oddly, one of the things making a statement these last few fashion cycles is the notion of the “heritage brand.” Maybe I’m being persnickety, in fact I’m quite sure I am, but this seems a bit dubious and I wish to pick it apart, if for nothing but self-satisfaction.

Right from the start, there seems to me something suspicious about a company releasing a pile of new trinkets under the guise of a return to golden times. Yes, one can correct the error of one’s ways, but the idea of a brand seeing the light and giving up cyclical commercialism in favor of some call to classicism strikes me as unlikely at best and deceitful at worst. I’m not suggesting that heritage brands don’t exist or can’t be positive, I’m just suggesting we keep our wits about us and not let some centuries-old founding date and a bit of faux-aged chintz trick us into re-outfitting our lives.

That said though, many brands do a fantastic job, but only when heritage is more than a byword. It’s all good and well to say you were founded 300 years ago, but if your goods look and function just like the chap’s who opened shop yesterday, I could care less. Two brands in particular spring to mind instantly when I think of real heritage: Holland & Holland and IWC.

First, Holland & Holland. When creative director Niels Van Rooyen says that he is serious about the company’s history, he’s not kidding. After Holland & Holland was taken over by Chanel and got a bit “fashiony,” Mr. Van Rooyen left to work for the playful spirits at New & Lingwood down on Jermyn Street. But, eventually, the folks at Holland & Holland realized that what the world needed wasn’t some shop claiming to sell “country fashions,” but the authentic, warm, and personal purveyors they had been but a few years before. With the epiphany, Mr. Van Rooyen returned and brought with him the recreation of a hunting tweed that Mr. Henry Holland, the company’s founder, had been photographed in while Queen Victoria was still a young woman. Technically modern, but still woven in British mills in a century-and-a-half-old design, the tweed, along with a collection of other corresponding products, proves that Holland & Holland’s heritage is more than a number on the door.

IWC, although slightly different, has also been a longtime favorite of mine. I’d always assumed their watches would be too big for me and I’d be confined to admiration from a distance. But, last summer, a lady I know who wears a men’s Portuguese convinced me to slip it on for giggles and I’ve been lusting after one of my own ever since.

I digress. Born in the later-half of the nineteenth century, IWC combined the ingenuity of American manufacturing with the precision of European watchmaking to create something truly unique in the world. I’ll admit that fine watches really get my blood pumping, but I do find that many of today’s most popular models, although engineering marvels, just leave me flat design-wise. I don’t want a space-age contraption strapped to my wrist; if I did, I’d simply put my phone on a chain and stash it in my waistcoat pocket. In the last few years, IWC has released editions of their Portofino and Portuguese collections harkening back to the early part of the twentieth century, when watchmaking, to my eye, was at its best. Clean design, stunning metals, and an elegance that transcends notions of casual and formal being the hallmarks. A Continuous Lean, a great blog if you don’t already follow it, posted a fine article a few days ago about the new offerings, so I’ll leave the technicalities to them. But, suffice it to say, IWC proves that moving briskly forward can often mean looking languorously back.

It sounds simple when I say it like that, but trust me, it’s not so. Too many brands and labels we see nowadays tout their centenary or some other such anniversary, without so much as batting an eyelash at what got them there. I’m not advocating anachronism, at least not here, but I am calling these so-called heritage brands on the carpet. Heritage, like bespoke a few years ago, and luxury years before that, is quickly losing its true meaning, and we don’t want that, now

Not Your Ordinary Day

It takes a lot to get me out from behind the camera; but a beautiful pair of shoes will do it.

The shoes in question are the Herring Fencote, a tan calf leather and blue suede spectator that appeals to my dandy side. I recently took delivery of these wonderful shoes, and with them came Adrian Herring and his charming business partner, web designer come photographer Jason.

You may remember that in my recent interview with Adrian I mentioned both that Adrian has a passion for shoes and that he personally likes to handle issues of customer service.

One of the features that I didn’t highlight was the section of the website ‘Who’s Wearing Herring’s’. With good reason you’ll see that this isn’t a parade of famous names and faces. The concept is a pretty simple one: we’re passionate about shoes, and here are some of our customers who are passionate about what they do.

Skim through the section and you’ll see that it’s quite an eclectic mix of folk, from a spitfire pilot and clock maker to a boat builder and jazz musician – and soon a humble, slightly camera shy, London blogger.

So how does Adrian find these people? Well, he checks the e-mail addresses of customers and if he finds one that looks interesting he contacts the person, finds out a little about what they do and then asks if they’d be willing to model the shoes. For giving up their time he rewards them with a pair.

That isn’t, however, the only way. You can contact Adrian via the website and volunteer your services, if you’re game enough.  I can promise you you’ll spend a very enjoyable day in convivial company, both Adrian and Jason are great fun and make it all really easy going.

I’m not a natural poser but I got rather used to having my photo taken by the end of the day and despite being my own harshest critic I was actually rather pleased with the results – oh, and I’m not ill, I really am that pale.

And so that’s how I, and my boss, ended up modelling Herrings shoes. My first and last modelling assignment you’ll be pleased to hear.

It’s funny where the blogging road leads you.

Corbin Trousers

Some readers may recall my previous complaints about the low rise of today’s commercially available trousers. They look terrible with a waistcoat. They make a man’s legs look short. They are unflattering to any man who has a paunch around his middle.

Last month I took my complaint to my local gentleman’s shop. The suggestion was made that I order a pair of trousers from the Corbin Trouser Company (link: www.corbintrousers.com] in Pennsylvania. Corbin offers a selection of about 150 fabrics in their custom trouser program. The service is certainly not bespoke; you start with a standard-sized pattern and then choose custom options.

I decided to order a pair of flat-front trousers in a mid-gray flannel. I asked for an extremely high rise (at least compared to today’s offerings), no belt loops, side buckles, and buttons for braces. After about a week I received word that the flannel was no longer available and that I would have to choose a different fabric. I opted then for a mid-gray cavalry twill. After that minor hiccup, the trousers were delivered to the store within a few weeks.

Once the pants arrived it became quickly apparent that some alterations would be necessary by the shop’s local tailor. Both the waist and seat were let out, and the pants were cuffed at an appropriate length. These alterations added a few more days and hassle to the process.

Now that I have the trousers in hand, I can say that I am pleased with the result. You can see from the photograph the height of the rise; it is about two to three inches higher than most of my pants. The waistband hits at about my navel. I have tried on a couple of vests with the pants and they cover the waistband appropriately.

The pants also have some nice details. The four-button fastening system is an interesting and secure design. The side buckles are out of the ordinary, and the decision to eliminate the belt loops has resulted in a very clean and smooth waistband.

The downside is that the trousers cost $295 plus tax. I think that’s a pretty high price tag for a fairly basic pair of trousers. Nevertheless, it was a price I was willing to pay for options that are unfortunately not readily available elsewhere.

Brand Review: Chapman Bags

I have been in a bit of a baggage frenzy recently. Most of the things that have been arresting my attention have been bag related; suitcases, holdalls, camera bags – all the carrying accessories of travelling gentlemen. I have been discovering a wide variety of interesting and appealing bags – though some of these are downright silly (belt pouch anyone?) – and have been fantasising about amassing a collection of sturdy and stylish luggage. My search yielded some remarkable finds, most notable of which was the tasteful but tiny firm of John Chapman, manufacturer of some of the finest and most attractive bags I have ever seen.

I first inspected a Chapman bag, a tweed travel washbag to be exact, in D.R Harris on St James Street. I noted not only the fine aesthetic and real leather trimming but also the heavy brass zips and sturdy double-stitching. This was not a bag made with some offcut of suiting for an ironic gesture of economy. This was a serious and sober piece of kit, solid as a rock and as English as the hills of Cumbria. It was no surprise therefore that this rock of a washbag was crafted on Tannery Road, Carlisle in the shadow of the Cumbrian peaks.

Chapman, though little known in the retail world, has manufactured for a myriad of brands, a sure sign of the quality of the product and skill of manufacture. Their clients have included Holland & Holland, House of Hardy, Gieves & Hawkes, Cordings, Paul Smith, Land Rover, DAKS and Acquascutum – a fair litany for a miniscule old tannery north of the Lake District.

Justly proud of their contributions, Chapman lay bare their techniques for manufacture; hand cut material, no computer controlled machinery, hand-crafted saddlery and solid brass hardware. Every single choice, each process of manufacture is so creamily English, so traditional and time-consuming.

All trim is leather and the webbing is of a military grade; these bags are made to last years and, according to Chapman they actually do; “Customers sometimes send us their bags after many years’ hard use for us to renew or repair because they have formed a personal bond with that bag.” When they’re this well-made, and this attractive, such bonds are scarcely surprising. While they are undoubtedly robust, they are not inelegant. Chapman make everything from holdalls and rucksacks to shoulder bags, shooting bags and wallets all in a ‘house style’ which is something resembling old exploration bags; khaki and moss green cotton canvas with brown leather trim. They also offer, like any good luggage manufacturer, a bespoke service which enables the commissioner to stipulate not only the size, shape and specific purpose of the bag (e.g. lens carrier) but also the trim, interior and canvas colour.

Japanese Men’s Magazines: Leon vs. Men’s Ex

As a long-standing fan of magazines, and the men’s magazine market in particular, it saddens me to see almost-monthly articles proclaiming their imminent demise. While it’s true that in recent years some titles, such as Maxim and Arena, suffered a swift and merciless end, others have performed comparatively well: between 2002 and 2009 Esquire UK’s circulation held steady at around 60,000 copies per month, and GQ UK’s actually increased by 3.2%. I do like both of these titles – they have some excellent guest and regular columnists – but they could do with improving their style sections. Enough with the boys-in-half-mast-trousers-and-Hitler-haircuts photo shoots! I want to see clothes that I could actually wear to work without being laughed at.

But anyway, back to the point… here in Japan a lot of the biggest-selling men’s magazines are all about fashion and style. And not just fashion and style in general: they cater to niche markets that simply couldn’t sustain a magazine of their own in other countries. If you’re interested in classic American work-wear, for example, you have Free & Easy and Lightning; if you want to look like an off-duty Hollywood celeb you can read Safari; and if you’re more interested in what those crazy Shibuya kids are wearing you can pick up Popeye. Unlike a lot of British men’s magazines, Japanese titles devote acres of page space to street shots (ie, candid photographs of normal people whose vibes happen to resonate with a particular style).

Of all Japanese men’s fashion magazines, Leon and Men’s Ex are my favourites. Leon takes its inspiration from the choiwaru oyaji (which roughly translates as “bad-yet-cool old guys”) of Milan and Florence. If you can’t get enough of Tommy Ton’s photos from Pitti Uomo, this is the magazine for you. Articles not only detail the latest trends from Italy, such as wearing Barbours over grey worsted wool suits, they also delve into the minutiae of sprezzatura. If you ever wanted to know how to fasten your button-down shirt collars to effect just the right degree of nonchalance, look no further.

Leon also produces a biannual special called Snap! which consists entirely of street shots. Photos are categorised by garment (ie, navy suits, casual outerwear, grey jackets), and provide a handy reference to those in need of sartorial inspiration.

Like Leon, Men’s Ex is heavily influenced by the Italian menswear market. However, while Leon pays a lot of attention to casual, weekend clothing, Men’s Ex concentrates on the business end: suits, shoes, blazers and ties. Shoes, in particular, are often explained in such depth that it can be frightening to think about the amount of man-hours the staff writers have put in.

Men’s Ex also features more from the British and American tailoring scene than Leon – Jeremy Hackett is a columnist, for example – and is generally more conservative in outlook. In terms of readership, Leon is aimed at forty-somethings who are confident enough and high enough up the corporate food chain to wear what they like, while Men’s Ex is for twenty- and thirty-something career men who are looking to get ahead. It helps to be well dressed, but being too flashy can be risky.

If there’s one thing that both these titles lack, it’s high-brow journalism. If you’re expecting serious, well-written articles on politics and current affairs you should stick with Esquire and GQ. These babies are unashamedly style-centred, and you’ll often have a hard time distinguishing between editorial and advertorial content. But for the clotheshorses among you, they are well worth buying.