Reviving Seersucker

Seersucker. Now, I always assumed that it was an America-born-and-bred kind of fabric, but in fact seersucker’s history in the Western world began - as a lot of men’s fashion did - with the British Empire’s pasty colonists, who were taken by the fabric’s ability to keep them cool in far-flung tropical locations. When seersucker eventually arrived in the United States it found a natural home in the South. Gents there who were looking for a lighter, more breathable material for their suits loved it, and it soon became a summer wardrobe staple.

The introduction and widespread use of air conditioning in the South changed seersucker from an everyday cloth to an eccentricity, which was a great shame. Men not only lost a great sartorial tradition, they also lost touch with the seasons. Admittedly there have been attempts to resurrect it, but many have been half arsed at best. In the mid-nineties Trent Lott initiated Seersucker Thursday in the US Senate to show that it wasn’t “just a bunch of dour folks wearing dark suits and … red or blue ties”. This, I imagine, proved about as successful in convincing the public that politicians were “fun” as the King Herod Daycare Centre was at attracting parents. And just one Thursday a year? It’s hardly pushing the notion of seersucker as a practical alternative to wool suits, is it?

Outside North America seersucker is an even rarer beast. This is understandable in Britain, where summer is often biennial and fleeting, but it’s a shame that it’s not more prevalent on the streets of Tokyo, Singapore or Sydney. In these places it’s all too common to see dark-suited gents traversing the scorching landscape between air-conditioned buildings like vast earthworms crossing a patio.

But it doesn’t need to be this way. Seersucker suits these days are often tailored to contemporary lines and, in my opinion, look far more appropriate in hot climates than dark wool-based suits do. Off-the-rack seersucker suits may not always be readily available in your neck of the woods, but local tailors should be able to source some fabric and make one for you. You’ll find that, thanks to their barely-lined structure and lower material costs, they’ll be a fair bit cheaper to make than most bespoke wool suits.

If you can’t find a tailor in your area who can make a seersucker suit you should give one of the many online Hong Kong-based tailors - like Indochino or MyTailor - a whirl. Results may vary, so you’ll probably want to consult the oracles at StyleForum.net before deciding. (For the record, I ordered a bespoke shirt from MyTailor and was happy with the results, but have yet to try ordering a suit from either it or Indochino.)

Umbrellas in the City

Umbrellas, from left to right: black leather crocodile print handle by Fox Umbrellas, £118; stripped cherry handle by Swaine Adeney Brigg, £245; navy with white spots and chocolate leather handle by Drake’s London, £225

The past few weeks have seen a few days of quite heavy rain. They are gloomy in the extreme, and made considerably worse by the insidious use of umbrellas as a kind of evil, eight-spoked pavement clearing tool. If you want to avoid serious retinal damage you need to be on constant lookout for stray umbrella rods at eye level. The only safe option is to join the umbrella brigade yourself. But not just any old umbrella will do - here is my selection of three of the best brolly makers around.

Fox Umbrellas
Fox Umbrellas have been keeping Londoners dry since 1868, and are credited with having made the first nylon-covered umbrella in 1947. I’m particularly taken with the leather crocodile print handle model that’s currently available from their online shop. Would be great with a dark navy or green canopy.

Swaine Adeney Brigg
Swaine Adeney Brigg are perhaps most famous for supplying felt ‘poet’ hats to Harrison Ford for the Indiana Jones films. However, their range of Brigg umbrellas features a sublime collection of wooden-handled beauties that will last you a lifetime. A stripped cherry handle with black canopy is a timeless choice.

Drake’s London
Though better known for their ties and sumptuous cashmere knits, Drake’s accessories range has come on in leaps and bounds over the past few years. Out of the three umbrellas currently available my eye was most taken by the Italian-made one shown above (far right). The chocolate brown leather handle, light wooden stem, and white-on-navy spots canopy make it stand out from the crowd.

Umbrella etiquette

Of course, Men’s Flair readers are far more considerate than your average brolly-wielding pleb, and are well aware that umbrella use on crowded streets demands acute spatial awareness. Try to abide by the following unwritten rules (sadly, you’ll be shocked at the number of people who don’t):

Open with care
Before opening your umbrella check your surroundings. A normal-sized brolly takes up a fair amount of space around you: make sure that nobody is occupying it.

The taller man goes over, the smaller man goes under
Picture the scene: the pavement is narrow. To your left you have a brick wall, to your right a railing that separates the pavement from the road. Coming directly towards you is a rather large, umbrella-using gent. You both have to get past without spoking each other’s eyes out. The solution? The over-under rule: if you are taller than the oncoming pedestrian, raise your umbrella high over their head; if you a smaller, lower and tilt your umbrella to one side.

Don’t stop to close your umbrella
When entering a building you’ll obviously need to close your umbrella, but in busy locations, such as a train station entrance at rush hour, unaware umbrella-closers can cause problems. Stopping to close your umbrella will cause a jam that’s as annoying as getting your rail pass ready right in front of, rather than before, the ticket barriers. Instead, bring your brolly down in front of you and close it as you walk in.

Don’t swing your closed umbrella
If you walk with a closed umbrella don’t hold it down by your side like a machete, especially when ascending a busy flight of stairs. The tip will lurch backwards at every step, and can give those walking behind you a nasty poking.

Don’t leave your umbrella to dry in the middle of the office floor
This one is plain common sense. If you’ve got a hundred people working in an office and they all decide to dry off their umbrellas in the hallway, the place will look like a vast experimental mushroom-growing facility. A good umbrella won’t be permanently buggered by being furled up wet for a few hours. If you want to dry it off, unhook the fastener and hang it somewhere inconspicuous or, better still, wait till you get home and unfurl it in the garage.

Don’t drip water over other people’s feet
A closed umbrella that’s wet is going to drip water for several minutes. Take care not to dangle it over other people’s feet during this time, especially when you’re on a busy train or bus.

Leave the golf umbrella at the golf club
People will hate you with a passion for using a golf umbrella in the city. They’re way too big.

The Importance of Detail

As infuriatingly cliché as it seems, it is undeniably true; it’s all about the details. You can have the most wonderful ‘blank canvas’ of an ensemble – a beautifully made suit, hand-sewn shoes – but if the details are wrong, or not present at all, the outfit is merely a wasted opportunity. It is not an unexplained wonder. Simplicity is dull. Simplicity sells for a brief period as ‘fashion’ but has so little to offer, and so little to recommend it, that craftsmen inevitably return to what we love in nature, in architecture and in ourselves; details.

In gentlemen’s clothing, the opportunity to ‘detail’ has often been missed; modern men prefer practicality and simplicity above ornament. The mistake in this is thinking that all detail is necessarily superfluous. Is the light touch of violet in an orange flower merely superfluous? Or is it actually the vital element that makes the whole that more alluring?

The most interesting elements of my outfits, those that observers single out or comment on, are rarely the more obvious, substantial elements. The human eye looks and does not cease looking – it looks to detect the unusual, past the expected and into the realm of the rare. It also strikes me, as I react with greater pleasure in such situations, that the more complete visions incorporate greatly satisfying levels of detail.

A suit with no further element can certainly be beautiful, but it does not act as a complete and satisfying object for the eye until the details have been added. The shirt, the handkerchief poking from the breast pocket, the tie, the tie pin, the cuff link – details signify thought and consideration; qualities that in this age of brute selfishness are increasingly rare. The next stage of detailing is observing the details within the details – the pattern of the pocket square, the stripe of the shirt.

Even in outfits that do not rely on the anchor of a suit, details can be the difference between an undistinguished norm and a noticeable and appealing style. Even a simple shirt and trouser combination offers opportunity for detailing; adding a belt in sympathetic tone to the shoes, turning up the bottoms of the trousers or wearing a certain colour of sock will catch the eye of passers by.

One must be careful not to abuse the opportunity of detail by overdoing or ‘fussing’ too much with an outfit that, essentially, a man should feel comfortable in. The key to satisfaction with the level of detail lies with the eyes; adding details is experimental at first but, after a while, a gentleman will know what works.

Mode Rage: Trainers with Suits

In terms of style, I like to believe I am a tolerant, open-minded chap. Individuality and invention are important and splendid; without them, the world would be a dull, uniform place. There are however some curiosities, some bizarre and incongruous trends which I cannot understand and which I cannot help but believe the world would be better off without.

Who on earth first thought of pairing a suit with training shoes? It is an aesthetic so hideous, so irritatingly lazy and childish that I cannot help but lose a sizeable portion of respect for all who indulge in it. I was therefore dismayed, though not entirely surprised, to see Dustin Hoffman photographed in Cannes at the film festival wearing a pinstripe suit with neon-soled running shoes. Whatever possessed Hoffman to display himself in this manner, though he is hardly well-known for any particular sartorial elegance, I do not know. His oddball characters do inspire a kooky aesthetic but there is kooky and there is cuckoo.

And then there is Joshua Jackson, accompanying his elegant, shimmeringly attired girlfriend Diane Kruger to an evening event wearing black tie – and skate-sneakers. An appalling, burger-sauced burp of a choice, Jackson should know it is ungentlemanly to upstage a lady in evening attire but to do it in such a manner is simply pugnacious. Frankly, he doesn’t deserve his invite; his arrogant, idiotic choice of footwear is akin to inappropriate drunkenness, boorish language or talking with your mouth full and is highly embarrassing for his companion who would have been better off pacing the carpet with one of the serving staff instead of her selfish beau. Every time someone attempts to combine the elegant with the never-going-to-be-elegant, it fails; imagine if Kruger had worn Havaianas with such an ensemble, citing the discomfort and impracticality of heels.

Trainers and suits don’t exist in the same universe. Never would it be seemly or sensible to exert oneself in a gymnasium in a wool suit; wearing gym shoes to a premiere is equally mad. My theory is that those who do such things do so because they are pretentious enough to belligerently convey that they ‘just don’t care’ when the unaffected choice would have been to acknowledge the event for what it is; an occasion requiring a certain type of shoe. Some might think this a touch pompous but the real pomposity is to consider your pathetic, non-conformist visual message more important than the person you accompany and the event itself.

The Way You Wear Your Hat: The Messy Bow Tie

“Thank Doctor Who” a friend said scornfully as we wandered around TopMan, slack-jawed at the mass of teenage bow-tie aficionados strutting around the store with their Bieber-fringes, check shirts and turned-up denim. The only problem was that their ‘I don’t give a damn but I am a dandy’ aesthetic was let down by the uniform neatness of their bows; hardly surprising given that all were clip-ons.

Tying a bow tie is an art, not an exact science; the symmetrical ‘perfection’ sought by many, even when achieved through self-tying, is about as appealing as one of those dire photo-realistic paintings. The idea is to achieve expression, not facsimile; ‘perfect’ pre-tied and self-tie bow ties look stiff, clownish and unnatural. Not only would I oppose wearing a pre-tied bow tie – and not for the crude snobbery advocated by some that it shows you ‘went to the wrong school’ or university but because creation is so much more satisfactory than replication – I would also oppose the ‘craft’ of tying a bow tie too carefully, too symmetrically, too artificially.

The ‘messy’ bow tie may sound like a paradox – for why should a decorative effect be untidy? – but the ‘mess’ is simply a descriptive comparison with the uniformity of pre-tied bows. Mess is usually what you end up with when first attempting to tie a bow tie; uneven, lumpy and wonky. However, the great charm of this educational stage is often clouded with frustration; “Why isn’t it PERFECT?!” we scream into the mirror, knowing the happy end-of-the-rainbow glory of symmetrical bow tie bliss is far away, not realising that the grass is greener on this side of the fence.

Winston Churchill, though seldom feted as a style icon, was famous for his bow ties and in his later years, was rarely seen without one. The most famous photos of Churchill usually involve three crucial props; V-for Victory, a cigar and his favourite navy polka dot bow tie. Well worn indeed, but perfect? Symmetrical? Not a bit of it. Though he wore one every day, every day was different; lop sided on Monday, tiny on Tuesday, bulky on Wednesday, approaching the perpendicular on Thursday.

The water-colouring aesthete’s routine of dressing was the very opposite to that of a man like Brummell, who discarded neckties if they were not perfectly tied the first time. Churchill tied it – possibly with a cigar in his mouth – whilst his head gradually filled with the grave concerns of the day; there was no concern of symmetry, or perfection and because of that, the beauty created was natural.

If you are planning on making the step from pre-tied bows to self-tie you will probably be put off by the idea of a bow that looks like it was tied by a pair of pig’s trotters but think on this: a bow in of itself is a decoration, a fancy. It is not ‘natural’ to wear a bow. However, it has been customary to adorn a buttoned collar for hundreds of years with a splash of what is really creative art. There is nothing creative, nothing pleasing about a glued, stiffened replica and nothing appealing about something that has been touched and tweaked to within an inch of its life. Try it, tie it – and be happy with the result. The best way to achieve the small-winged minimalism? Try tying it with as little length as possible.