The Cocktail Hour

One of my acquaintances recently asked me for advice on what to wear to a luxury hotel’s cocktail bar for an evening of martinis and mushy conversation with his new girlfriend; “I am going to go home from work and change” he said “what should I change into?” My first suggestion would have been to save himself the hassle of returning home to change, were it not for the fact that he was discussing a Friday; a day which has become, in his firm, a strict ‘dress down’ day. My second suggestion was simply to dress as if he would for a day at the office and then, as the barman peels the proverbial into the glass, add a ‘twist.’

There is no doubt that a luxury hotel’s cocktail bar, particularly for a date with a pleasant and well-dressed young lady, requires a smartness of dress. I cannot count the number of times I have seen a radiant, elegantly attired lady sweep into a gilded, marbled £12-a-pop bar only to be followed by a cowering slob in a faded polo shirt and pale jeans, who having ignored his female companion’s lead in consideration of the occasion, glumly peruses the menu, complains about the prices and fiddles with his Blackberry.

This is about romance, elegance, twinkling lights and flashing smiles; whiffs of perfume, lipsticked glasses, high heels, cufflinks and gleaming ties. A suit is perfectly adequate for this environment and will serve as well as almost anything else but I like to wear something slightly different, something upbeat and individual; whenever I know I’m off to down a martini or two in smart company, I slip into an ensemble that I refer to as ‘The Cocktail Hour.’

If the sensible, sombre suit is the drink, the Cocktail Hour is the twist. I nearly always employ contrasting trousers as part of these ensembles to remove any lingering connotations with ‘the office’ – a vulgar term in the dreamlike atmosphere of a festooned and frilled cocktail bar – and usually add a riskier pocket square and tie, whilst keeping the shirt relatively conservative. One recent jaunt began with me dressing to Count Basie – providing dollops of inspiration – picking out a plain white shirt, navy tie with substantial white stripes, a mid-blue double breasted jacket, chestnut brown trousers and chocolate coloured Oxfords and, to finish, a multi-coloured silk square carelessly stuffed into the pocket.

Cream and Beige Tweed for City Gents

A few weeks ago I commissioned another piece of tailored clothing. I opted for a double breasted mallard green Harris Tweed jacket. The cloth has a herringbone weave with classic small flecks of colour running through the weave.

Typically, when one thinks about tweed cloth one thinks in terms of brown, green and fawn grounds, regardless of any overlaying checks.

After all, those colours reflect the origins and heritage of the cloth not to mention the rural nature of the clothes it was used to fashion. Curiously enough the term tweed comes from a London cloth merchant misreading the word tweel, the Scottish word for twill.

Proper tweed, anything over 18oz, is so tightly woven that it’s water resistant. As such the clothes fashioned from this hard wearing cloth were very much working items. The colourways of classic tweed were ideally suited to withstanding the rigors of a well lived life in the country: hunting, riding, stalking, shooting and fishing. And while the tweed clothes themselves varied in quality of manufacture so practical to the task was the cloth that it was enjoyed by both the country gent, gamekeeper and estate worker alike.

Of course since migrating to the town the practical necessity for tweed to be in earthy grounds no longer applies, and this is the interesting direction a friend of mine recently took. Much like the jackets pictured, he opted for a cream and very light beige ground overlaid with a pale blue window pain check.

I wouldn’t risk such a colour scheme in the country but in town it really works. Not only is the cream a natural fit with denim, but the contrast of black asphalt and the concrete grey of the metropolis makes for a powerful contrast between the jacket and it’s urban background. Certainly a less conventional choice but ideally suited to the City.

Something to consider next time around I think.

“Combo” images credit: www.unabashedlyprep.com

A Formal Question (or Two)

They don’t call it the party season for nothing. As soon as November is all but over, we turn our minds to the blinding glitter and deafening din of December; the month to end all months, the ‘holiday season’, the office parties, the annual balls and the benefits. As a warrior turns to his armour, the December party goer turns to their wardrobe.

And sometimes, they turn to others.

I have already received two anxious enquiries from readers regarding evening wear that need to be dealt with.

“I have a black tie ball coming up but I have recently bought a vintage tailcoat - like yours - and was wondering whether I could wear it with a black or white bow tie instead of a shorter jacket? What do you think?”

The purist’s answer to this is, of course, “absolutely not.” Invitation dress codes should be adhered to and many purists would claim that a white tailcoat worn to such an occasion is as incorrect as a hoody and sweatpants. However, I am not much of a purist. I would probably wear black tie if it was stipulated on the invitation, but if it simply asked for ‘Evening Dress’, I might dust off the vintage tails, purely because they don’t get much of a run out.

The second part of the question is also one of taste; the purist would suggest that a black bow tie worn with tails is out of the question. However, the chances of being mistaken for a waiter in an age when most staff carrying drinks wear plain black shirts are slim. The conundrum is this; should our hero shun the code and wear full formal evening dress (white bow tie, tails), should he strut around in tails whilst wearing a black bow tie, in a nod to the dress code or should he, as the purists demand, discard the tails and white bow tie and dress with a short jacket and black bow tie? As the middle option is half-hearted, I would champion the first.

“I need a favour. I am going to a black tie party but I was wondering what your views on pocket squares are?

I normally wear one with suits but I tried a white linen one with my dinner jacket and it looked way too stark against the black. Should I wear a black one? Or a colour (red)? Or can I not wear one at all?”

This is definitely a question of taste. Most men who wear pocket squares everyday would probably wear one with black tie to avoid that awkward feeling of ‘nakedness’, but I can understand this point of view; with an immaculate black tie ensemble, a white pocket square can look rather incongruous and a little untidy. A black square adds texture and is certainly more subtle, but it will be difficult to notice in low light. A red or burgundy puff is an excellent idea, not least because it adds a degree of colour to the outfit. Some say the last option, not adding a pocket square at all, is actually the ‘correct’ option, proven by the fact that some vintage formal eveningwear does not feature the breast pocket.

My loose rule with formal wear is if I wear a buttonhole, I won’t wear a square – and vice versa; otherwise, I feel my jacket is too busy. With white tie it tends to be a buttonhole, with black tie it tends to be a square. I would say that if I thought of wearing a buttonhole with black tie, I would leave the breast pocket empty.

The question is dear readers, what do you think?

Rare Moment: Velvet Waistcoat

It is comforting to see that season after season, year after year waistcoats still adorn the mannequins in stores up and down the high street. So much for the fashionistas who predicted several years ago that waistcoats were a brief phenomenon; as far as today’s shoppers are concerned, they have never been more desirable. A waistcoat is an elegant, flattering and warm addition to a suit and this practical edge has clicked with purchasers who are looking for more than something that’s “a bit trendy.”

However, it is not only the ‘matching waistcoats’ that have caught the eye; odd waistcoats are becoming less, er, odd and people are using them in very different ways and for different looks. Some are using them as a foil to a weekender outfit, others as a point of interest on a metropolitan suit and all different types of colour, pattern and material are appearing. One which caught my eye recently – and which I simply had to try out – was the velvet waistcoat.

When trying it on with my friend, I marked his frowning surprise at the mere existence of the product; “A velvet…waistcoat?” he said, as I slipped it on for size. I myself was not to be phased by the comment. It might be unexpected, a little rare but that was the point; doing something different was always of interest to me and a velvet waistcoat seemed the ideal addition to my little collection. I remembered seeing them worn by Dickensian rogues in Sunday evening period dramas with frock coats and stove pipe hats and it seemed to me to be a touch extravagant; an ideal starting place for any item that seeks a permanent home in my wardrobe.

Though many would mark this down as an ‘evening only’ garment, I foresaw many occasions for it, despite being jet black and the perfect contrast to Barathea wool and ribbed silk lapels. On the mannequin in store, it was displayed splendidly contrasting with a light grey jacket and a check shirt. However, I saw it being deployed primarily as an odd waistcoat with my collection of grey, waistcoat-less suits; a remarkably fine texture to contrast with wool flannel and silk ties.

Then my mind wandered from it being used with a grey tweed jacket, a check woollen tie and coloured cords to unity with a burgundy velvet jacket, white shirt and bow tie for club dinners and then with jeans, a cord jacket and paisley neckscarf for a casual artisan ensemble. For such an unusual, unexpected item, it was proving to be something of great potential and adaptability. I anticipated its first outing excitedly as I waited in the queue to purchase; I just had to remember to visit Liberty for replacement buttons.

The Velvet Blazer

One of my friends recently told me that he wanted three things from all garments of clothing he purchased; quality, versatility and style. If one of these ingredients was missing, he rarely considered completing the transaction. I agreed to an extent but warned him, naturally, that men often have different interpretations of the first and last ingredients; quality is relative and style is personal. However, I did agree with him that versatility was likely to be crucial for anyone on the hunt for decent clobber; you don’t buy an overcoat to wear it with only one particular suit.

As the subject progressed on versatility, we discussed the most adaptable garments we could think of - blue blazers, khaki chinos, black loafers – and reflected fondly on our own experiences. It was then that I added the velvet jacket to the growing inventory, to which my friend reacted with derision; “A velvet jacket is not that versatile; I can count on one hand the number of times I have used mine!” However, I asked him to consider that it was possible that his interpretation of the third crucial ingredient – style – was affecting its use; for example, if you only believe velvet jackets should be worn when hosting an in-home black tie dinner party, low use should be unsurprising.

Like the colour purple, velvet is closely associated with royalty. Although well noted for its smooth texture, it is also desired because of its depth of tone; a burgundy cotton jacket has nothing like the tonal complexity of a burgundy velvet jacket, which sets the latter apart. It has gorgeous, lustrous qualities, and when worn with even the most incongruous ensembles is always likely to prompt an approving ‘ooh’ or ‘ahh’ from the welcoming crowd, not to mention the indulgent pat of a palm or two.

I own two velvet jackets, one of which I have ‘converted’ to an evening jacket (by adding black silk buttons), the other of which I currently wear infrequently as it is overdue a few adjustments, but which I plan to wear more and more as the days get colder. A casual velvet jacket sounds like an oxymoron but velvet is an ideal fabric for the chilly winter weekends; in my experience, a cotton velvet jacket is significantly warmer than a mid-weight woollen blazer. It is also splendid as an ‘all dayer’, something a friend informs me that many weekends call for, as they are often frantic affairs of shopping-then-eating-then-visiting-then-dining that do not allow for that most Victorian of dignities; changing for dinner.