Building A Shoe Collection – The Pleasures!

A friend of mine started investing in good shoes around six months ago. I find it reassuring that I get such vicarious pleasure out of it: perhaps I’m not as self-centred as all that.

His first pair was a lovely set of mid-brown, cap-toe Derbys. It was a perfect first purchase – adaptable to casual wear, around the office and business meetings, with jeans, chinos and suits. Apart from charcoal they went well with all his suits, both grey and blue. I had a small role in this decision so it was a relief to see his delight in them.

(As well as his near-obsessive interest in polishing and general maintenance. This was a man more used to wearing trainers that only looked scruffier as you wore them. Little did he realise the pleasures of looking after leather shoes, restoring them and creating a personal patina.)

For his second pair, he was tempted with brogues in pale suede. But in the end opted for Oxfords in a hand-painted oxblood. Darker, sharper and smarter, they will go well with dark denim as well as blue suits, while retaining a little individuality.

Finally, he mentioned to me that his next investment, sometime next year, will likely be black whole-cut Oxfords. He already has one pair of black shoes (though not of the same quality as these others) so black was not his first choice. But he recognises that black is an essential for business in Britain, as well as elsewhere. So they deserve to be the next pair.

This seems to me like a great trio of shoes. Each will probably only be worn once a week, as the office is rather casual, so rotation won’t be a problem. Brushed after each use and stored with shoe trees, they should be the foundation of his smarter wardrobe for years.

I can see them in my mind, sitting proudly in a row. Perhaps that gives me a little too much pleasure. But having introduced him to the world of classic footwear, it’s great to know his non-work wardrobe now has a grown-up option, alongside beloved trainers. And at work he will look far more professional.

Indeed, it reminds me of a question another friend asked a few months ago – what to invest in when you begin working, and want to steadily look more serious, professional and ambitious? My top three would be:

1 – A suit that fits you. Good material tends to wear better rather than look tremendously better. So buy an inexpensive suit and have it altered everywhere so it fits.

2 – Buy decent shoes. This isn’t hard. In the UK just buy Loake, Barker or Cheaney to begin with, look after them well and trade up when you can.

3 – Buy good ties. Cheap ties look cheap. Get good ones, again look after them well and make sure they are tight to your collar.

Those three things will change your look from graduate to junior management. Buy shirts, socks and expensive suits later.

[The shoes shown here are from Lodger, before someone asks. Apologies to readers who are sick about me carrying on about the brand – but it was my friend’s choice not mine!]

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Is That A Real Pocket Watch

“Is that a real pocket watch?” they ask, poking at the chain on my waistcoat. I am always amazed by the reaction – invariably silent surprise – when they discover that I am indeed wearing a real pocket watch. The question ‘why’ often follows the discovery and, though I am loathe to justify my attire to anyone, I am happy to inform the inquirer that I am rather keen on knowing the time.

Of course, one does not only wear a pocket watch for reasons of practicality. No one wears any decorative time piece purely for effective timekeeping. For one thing, a pocket watch is nowhere near as handy as a wristwatch. They are often heavy and, depending on the style of chain, can be rather intrusive. It has been nearly a century since the acknowledged death of the pocket watch. Through transitional models, the wristwatch defied convention to become the pre-eminent  What was viewed as feminine and inappropriate for a gentleman before the 1920s became the norm soon after. Since the 17th century the pocket watch had been the only serious portable timekeeping accessory but the fashions of the twentieth century’s third decade were so forward looking, and partly due to the horror of the First World War, so rejecting of the past that it’s decline was, perhaps, unusually rapid.

Nowadays, no one wears any kind of timepiece without wanting to show it off and the modern day wearer of the pocket watch is no different. The practice is generally adopted by very old gentlemen or young gentlemen who fancy themselves very old; on the latter, it often looks like costume but on the former, despite the fact that even they are too young to have worn a pocket watch in its heyday, it fits perfectly. I imagine this has something to do with the vast array of twentieth century photographs of statesmen such as Winston Churchill, Arthur Balfour and David Lloyd George, greying Victorian relics who always wanted the jazz turned down, wearing elaborate pocket watches.

Unless you have oodles of cash to spend on such an item at Breguet, one of the best places to look for an attractive and finely made pocket watch is at auction. eBay can sometimes offer some wonderful bargains but watch out for the sellers from the Far East claiming to retail a classic British pocket watch – that is made in China. Silver and gold are the metals used most often on antique pocket watches and whether you prefer one or the other is entirely personal. I like silver myself as it is slightly fresher, more youthful and more versatile.

The key to wearing a pocket watch is nonchalance. Nonchalance and an appearance of habit. Fiddle around with your chain too much and the look will look forced and clownish. It is an ideal occasion to wear it with black tie as a black waistcoat, under a black jacket, looks utterly dead. The brightness of a pocket watch chain brings out the proportions of the waistcoat wonderfully. It is also nice to wear it in a day suit, but be careful not to ‘ham’ the look up too much – adding spats and a fedora are far too much. It will always work best with darker colours and, in order to avoid costume associations, wear with simple accessories.

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Wear A Contrast Tie With A Contrast Collar

A shirt with cuffs and collar (usually white) that are a different colour to the body is not easy to wear well. Sometimes known as a contrast collar, it is more often worn badly than flatteringly.

It should be a slightly unusual part of a man’s outfit, rather than something that glares. The key, for me, is to wear it with a tie that is dark enough or colourful enough to push the contrast collar into the background.

White collar and cuffs hark back to the days when both items would be removable. As the only items that would really be seen – the body buried beneath tie, waistcoat and jacket that was not removed – the collar and cuffs needed to be clean, smart and crisp. Hence the starch.

(And that moment in the Dickens novel Martin Chuzzlewit where one character is revealed to have packed piles of collars and cuffs for his journey to America, but no shirts. All one needed was the starched white extremities to give an impression of respectability.)

Being detachable was very practical. The collar and cuffs wear out quickest, so having replaceable ones considerably lengthened the life of the shirt. Even today, Turnbull & Asser tell me that they frequently reinvigorate bespoke customers’ shirts by replacing the collar and cuffs with white ones (the original colour sometimes being out of production or difficult to match).

But the men (usually bankers) that you see wearing them often look garishly, not to say cheaply dressed. That’s because the tie they choose is often too pale or too plain to draw attention. And the outfit becomes about the contrast between shirt body and shirt collar.

So with a blue shirt with white collar, say, a pale blue tie or one with only a small geometric pattern is not going to be strong enough. If it were replaced with a navy-blue tie with silver club stripe, attention would shift to the tie and away from the collar.

Pattern is as important as tone. Yesterday I saw a young banker wearing a plain black tie with a blue/white contrast collar. Aside from the fact that plain black will often look cheap, the lack of pattern ruined the combination. In contrast, I observed a slightly older man in the City wearing a dark grey tie against the same shirt, the tie patterned by silver paisley motifs. It was still subtle, but there was no question of the collar dominating.

Think of the contrast between shirt and collar in the same way as you would the stripes of a suit. If the stripes are so strong that they dominate the outfit, the wearer is unlikely to look chic or sophisticated. And the tie is, in its way, a little like the pocket handkerchief: usually it is meant to stand out against the suit, just like a tie. The collar should not.

Oh, and it goes without saying that the contrast collar and cuffs looks a lot better when you keep your jacket on.

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Patch Pockets

I’ve had a bit of an obsession recently, namely patch pocket suits. I should qualify that by saying I’m ostensibly talking about side pockets and not the breast pocket.

You won’t find a great deal said about it in style tomes. Indeed, before putting fingers to keyboard I scoured my bookshelf for some helpful insight or quote.  The best that Hardy Amies can muster up is to say; “Patch pockets look very well on blazers and sports jackets. They look less severe than flaps and the stitching around the pockets is decorative”.

The consensus is that they’re a sportier more casual option better suited to summer blazers. But if anything I think this too dismissive. I’ve always regarded patch pockets as rather louche, a bit like leaving your bow untied and top button undone after a black tie dinner. This is of course the quality that appeals the most. And so I’m resolved to make it a permanent feature of my suiting wardrobe.

We chaps are often content to play things safe, fearful of “getting it wrong”. We stick to what we know, and what we know is what we most commonly see on others – flaps. But to my mind patch pockets when combined with heavier winter cloths like flannel set up a striking contrast of formality and easiness, particularly if you add those other less formal elements of knit ties and loafers.

There is one other element to consider. How you wear something is almost as important as what you wear. Carry Grant’s on screen persona of nonchalance and supreme confidence concealed the fact that he was often quite stiff, which was a symptom of nervousness. To compensate he developed the habit of putting his hands in his pockets and, according to Richard Tarregrossa, developed his wardrobe around this requirement.

We all suffer with nerves from time to time – I, for example, don’t like entering a room full of strangers. Once upon a time I’d smoke to make myself appear and feel more relaxed. Not easily done now. The ease of access to a patch pocket naturally inclines one to put ones hands in ones pockets. This at least allows one to look at ease, avoiding crossed arms which can look defensive. You may think I’m reaching, but there is a lot to be said for the humble patch pocket.

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Watch Stereotypes

The Patek Philippe

The Patek man is one who has always been prepared to wait. He patiently saved for his Knightsbridge flat when paying next to nothing in rent for a shoebox in Hounslow. He made do with altered M&S suits for years until he had amassed sufficient funds for a couple of decent three-pieces from Henry Poole. And when some of his old school friends were out lunching in Michelin starred eateries that they could ill afford, flicking back their double-cuffs to dazzle Polish waitresses with their newly bought Rolexes, the Patek man sat by his desk eating his home made sandwiches, happily scrolling through the Excel spreadsheet of his ‘Patek fund’ which he had been steadily adding to, each month for the past five years. Other men had settled for less; they couldn’t wait for Knightsbridge and ended up in Battersea, they couldn’t wait for Savile Row and now bought at Aquascutum. The Patek man, proud of his self-restraint, wears his timepiece with care. However, he is still absent at the lunches, the dinners and the parties – he is saving up for a modified XK140.

The Breitling Chronograph

The Breitling man isn’t a brute, but he’d like to be. He has an expensive gym membership that includes a weekly session with an experienced boxing trainer. He shows off his cuts and bruises whenever he gets the chance. He craves a cool masculinity in his style; slick, made-to-measure grey or blue two piece suits (waistcoats, in his opinion, are far too fussy), white and blue shirts and dark grey ties. He yielded to a white linen pocket square fold a year ago. His chin is stubbled and his skin, though secretly moisturised by Zirh, is swarthy and always tastefully tanned. His Breitling SuperOcean Heritage timepiece is a masculine hunk of metal with a cold steel strap and a severe black face – contrasting with his tanned, moderately hairy wrists. When asked why he hadn’t selected the Omega Seamaster 007, which many considered to be the most appropriate watch for such a Bond fanatic, he laughed derisively and responded rather more seriously that Bond would “…never have worn a watch with his agent number flying around on the second-hand.”

The Vintage Rolex

The Vintage Rolex man spends as much time in his genteel Pall Mall club as possible; it’s the only place he knows that hasn’t dramatically changed since the 1930s. Though being a mere 42 years of age he never actually knew ‘the age of glamour’, still he has a strong affinity with the era that extends to his music choice (Al Bowlly), suits (vintage Savile Row), shoes (always co-respondents) and even his watch, a vintage Art Deco Rolex. Unlike some others, the Vintage Rolex man actually uses his timepiece. When it hits seven, he makes his way to the bar from the reading room and orders a dry martini – a drink he forced himself to like when he first saw ‘It Happened One Night.’ It is not the only watch he owns (his wealthy family once bought him a Vacheron Constantin and he inherited a rather vulgar Rado from a doting uncle) but it is the only one he wears. Consequently, he has to wait and browse the jewellery emporiums whilst the helpful vintage Rolex specialists in the Burlington Arcade service his treasured timepiece.

The Girard-Perregaux ‘Jackpot’ Tourbillon

The GP Tourbillon man is barely 25 and yet he was born to the kind of Astorian wealth that makes mere multimillionaires twice his age wince in envy as he draws up alongside them in his father’s priceless 1961 Ferrari 250 tapping his hand on the wheel, revealing a ‘complication’, worth nearly half a million pounds, that is part Swiss ‘haute-horologie’, part Las Vegas swank. He rolls up the cuffs on a suit that was ‘personally’ designed by Karl Lagerfeld and pushes the pedals with a one-off pair of Yamamoto trainers that he bought at auction for £8,000. This is how the young, entitled and foreign born billionaire likes to do things – individualism with a twist of pop culture cheek. He shuns his father’s recommendations on a career with his metals company, opting instead to back his poker playing friends in worldwide tournaments. He chooses not to occupy his allotted bedroom suite at the family residence in Kensington Palace Gardens but instead, much to his father’s bemusement, shacks up at a huge funky penthouse in Shoreditch where he entertains his few London-based Princeton friends with high stakes poker tournaments (he himself, despite his passion, is a dangerously poor player) and rare wine tastings (with bottles looted from his father’s cellar.)

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