Velo-re Belts

As any of my friends will testify, I am not adverse to something playful draped around my midriff. These belts by Swiss born Betty Galizzi (short for Bettina) certainly fit that bill. Betty actually lives in South London, and she and her friends Javier and Agata quietly work away churning out these handmade belts. And what are they made of? Bicycle tires.

There is in fact more to the humble bicycle tire than you might expect, some are very valuable and highly prized (Who’d have guessed?). There are, for example, bespoke, limited edition race and country tires for noted professionals in the cycling world. The type of tire, and its past use, is also what gives rise to the distinctive patterning. Each tire wears differently according to its rubber compound and whether it has been used on road, track or cross country.

As you’d expect she has quite a following in the cycling community. Many professional racers like to give the belts as gifts to friends and sponsors, using tires they’ve raced on. Indeed, her latest devotee is British Olympic gold medallist Nicole Cooke. Other clients simply want mementos of races won or endurance treks. In fact this last group, Bettina tells me, provide quite a bit of work as a result of the popularity of biking tours across far flung corners of the globe.

My particular favourites are the multicoloured ones, which would sit as well with jeans and chinos as they would shorts. The colours are original to the tires not later additions. But then there is enough labour involved making these belts, aside from the washing process everything is done by hand. They‘re pre-punched with eight wholes and come in two sizes, SM 30-34inches and ML 36-38 inches, but you can have any size you like, simply get in touch with Bettina.

Now these belts aren’t everybody’s cup of tea, and for a good many the idea of wearing anything other than leather or suede is heresy. But as an alternative to Ribbon, Grosgrain and other preppy stereotyping apparel I think they have real merit. I try to keep my casual wardrobe as simple as possible but there is a fine line between simple and pedestrian.

Bettina is based in London, but her belts are available at www.velo-re.com.

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Reader Question: Buying Odd Jackets

David: I very much enjoy your blog and find it to be a great source of inspiration in my desire to master the art of permanent style. I was hoping you could help me in the matter of choosing odd jackets. I am starting a new job where most people wear a jacket but no one wears a necktie. I will probably wear grey flannel trousers, beige chinos and a light-coloured shirt. But I am not sure what odd jackets to wear. I don’t currently own any. What would you recommend to me if I have only one, three or five odd jackets to use for work?

The first thing to ensure about an odd jacket is that it goes well with the trousers. They must not clash in their pattern and they must be of a similar formality. As both your suggested pairs of trousers are plain, pattern is not much of an issue. And as they are both relatively informal, the jackets should reflect this in their cloth.

So my first suggestion to you would be a jacket in a pale grey, with a heavy texture in the cloth and in a relatively informal wool. So not worsted, but flannel, tweed, camel hair or something similarly rough. The heavy texture could be a herringbone or a hound’s-tooth. (Like the one pictured – from J.Crew)

The reason I suggest this for your first jacket is that the pattern is not too bold or eye-catching – there is enough visual interest to distinguish it from the trousers, but it is not a loud tweed. It is also classic and simple without being uniform – a blazer would offer less personality in your one item.

Your second jacket should be a blazer, though. Navy blue, preferably in something heavier than standard worsted wool, and fitting immaculately. Too many Americans wear a blazer and chinos out of laziness. Neither is likely to fit well and the jacket will rarely be buttoned. To differentiate yourself, get a blazer that is slim-cut, perhaps with just one button. And don’t go for brass buttons – something different, either plain blue or a different metal; perhaps even a cream colour like the Italians.

Third for me would be a tweed. The colour is a question of personal taste, as is the size of the check, but make sure it is slim (again) and smart enough to look at home both in the country and the office. I have a Donegal one-button tweed from Kilgour, in mid-grey, that I would put in this category.

Fourth, something for the summer – a tan linen or cotton gabardine. Make sure the linen is heavy, and if you think tan would be too casual, switch to a navy or a grey.

The fifth jacket can be something more adventurous: a classic black stroller if you want to add formality, something in an unusual colour like mid-green if you want to add flair.

When building the collection, just bear in mind that you want a spread of weights for different seasons and a spread of formalities for different occasions.

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Book Review: The Last Shall Be First

This famous book is well-named: its sub-title is ‘The colourful story of John Lobb, the bootmakers of St James’s’. That colour comes from tales of the young Lobb, social history of the development of bootmaking and pocket biographies of the shop’s most famous customers.

But fortunately there is also colour about the product – the boots themselves. Just skip the bits on the Lobb family and the lists of customers.

For example, I didn’t know that traditionally the best brown shoes were always made out of Russia calf, the best black ones out of waxed calf. I wasn’t aware that the clicker in men’s shoes was the senior or “aristocratic” role – he was the foreman that handed out the work to the other craftsmen, which makes sense I suppose, as his was the first stage. And I didn’t know that in the middle of the nineteenth century, bootmakers were the most numerous of any trade in London (apart from “general labourers”).

It is also interesting to read about the habits of Lobb customers. The average man bought 2-5 pairs a year, but there were few such men and they were all very rich. One, Frank Harris (“king of Pornographers” in late Victorian England), bought a pair of Russian leather laced boots, some calf toecaps, calf boot toecaps and a pair of patent “no caps” in 1899. Lord Alfred Douglas (‘Bosie’ in relation to Oscar Wilde) bought a “pair of Russia”, two pairs of calf button boots, “Russia caps” and patent Oxford no caps in 1902. While both men were at the height of their notoriety at this point, they must nonetheless have ended up with a lot of Lobb boots.

Those boots took one (fast) craftsman about 12 hours to make. And in the late nineteenth century, a man had to make six every week just to feed his family. So the gap between craftsman and customer was rather larger than it is today, even though the price has inflated from £2-something to £2000-something.

And then there’s my favourite story from the book. During the First World War it became very hard to get the hog’s bristles that shoemakers used to guide the waxed thread through the holes punched by the awl. Over a pint in the pub, six bootmakers settled on a plan and set out to Regent’s Park with apples, pears and nuts. They strolled into London Zoo, waited until no keeper was about and then converged on the hog enclosures. They used the fruit to tempt the animals forward, then grabbed two handfuls of hair each and ran. That was enough for six months of bootmaking.

I highly recommend this book to anyone with an interest in traditional shoemaking. Just read it selectively. It is now out of print I believe, but it can be bought second-hand on Amazon from $30.

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Taking Winston’s Advice

In a bid to avoid repeating the advice of others, I spent this week looking through past Men’s Flair posts. This one, by Winston, advocating patterned trousers chimed with me.

I have a surfeit of jeans and chinos for weekends and casual wear. In many ways I’m comfortable in my uniform of odd jacket and denim. But as I plough on into my thirties I feel my tastes maturing slightly. Time to experiment with trousers.

Previously I’ve found two problems doing this. The first was finding something sufficiently relaxed and informal which didn’t make me feel like a man missing a suit jacket, or a buffer aspirant. The second problem is that most of the available ‘younger’ trousering follows fashion, meaning the accursed skinny fit –low rise, tight bum and microscopic crotch. If you weigh more than a buck-fifty in loose change these trousers are deeply unflattering. I’m no rake, but with a 36 inch waist, a bum and solid thighs neither am I obese.

Fortunately for every problem there is a solution, and mine comes in the form of these Dog Tooth check trousers from Adam of London. They are also available in Prince of Wales Check and Mohair, although I’m not daring enough for that. They’re a tailored fit -not skinny- tapering to a 16.5 inch leg; with side adjusters and belt loops (a little unconventional but I don’t mind that); side/front pockets and no pleats. They provide a trim modern silhouette, but they sit on the waist and provide enough room for men sized men.

The man behind the trousers is Adam Shener, a plain speaking, no nonsense kinda chap whose shop specialises in authentic English 60’s tailoring. Most people don’t appreciate that the sixties had two distinct sartorial parts to it. From 1963  - 1965, which is Adam’s era, sharp suiting was the uniform for that group known as the Mods (which stands for modernists). After this period things went down hill with lapels and trouser legs getting ever wider. Adam’s is no hack retro shop, it’s all about cut and fine tailoring from an era when men predominantly wore bespoke. For the money I think he creates one of the best fitting off the peg suits on the market.

Now there is definitely one man who will be taking Winston’s advice.

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Sartorial Alchemy In Practice Part 1

Many moons ago I wrote, somewhat verbosely, of my admiration for style resourcefulness and sartorial alchemy. I am continually impressed by the unpolished gems that some style gurus manage to find in unlikely places; at the bottom of bargain boxes, in a charity shop, on eBay, in their parents attic. Wherever there is value, you will find them. They are extraordinarily patient people who think nothing of spending hours in underground thrift stores with a rather brave hope that they will find something worthwhile. I know a gentleman who trawled through boxes, pushed through crowds and endured hours of disappointed searching in stuffy, poorly kept second-hand emporia only to return to the same search a week later.

Such persistence and tolerance of imperfection deserves praise, but what really amazes me is how a little smattering of imagination can turn the wrinkled garment in the bargain bin into a stand-out piece in an ensemble; one which will prompt continual enquiries of ‘where did you get that?’ I recently took a very cheap, new double-breasted jacket bought on eBay for £5 (including delivery) to Graham Browne in the City to see what they could do with it. I informed the tailor, Russell, of my plans to turn what was an unremarkable and anonymous jacket into an attractive and distinctive item. I would add the creamy white buttons, to create a natty Gatsby-esque number, but his job was to do what he could with the fit.

Armed with pins, Russell asked me to put the jacket on. It was a 34”, as close to my torso measurements as possible, but still depressingly boxy. I had already decided that the jacket waist and shoulders needed to be taken in, and I had pinned the bottom of the jacket up myself in order to give the tailor an idea of how I wanted the item to look. Russell was utterly professional and only assented to chime in with commentary on the very cheaply produced garment in response to my own criticisms of its quality. I informed him of my goal of sartorial alchemy and that it was truly up to his talents as a tailor to make the silhouette of the jacket worthy of gold; “So, I’ve got to make a silk purse…” he began “…out of a sow’s ear!”

The lesson of this will be, hopefully, that despite its rather dull origins, an item should not just be appreciated for what it is, but for what it can be. If you have an unspectacular item that once cost you an insignificant amount of money, you have a choice; with the right imagination and adjustments, you could turn something you might have thrown away into something rather special. The raw materials of even the cheapest, nastiest object of fashion need to be appreciated. For fashion, after all, is merely material that is sewn around the human form. A little patience, and imagination, goes a long way. I hope to see the result of Russell’s alchemy next week when the jacket is ready.

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