Know Your Trouser Width

I like narrow trousers. I’m pretty sure this isn’t a fashion thing – they are trendy and have been for a good year or two, but I think it has influenced my choice in tailoring for longer than that.

(Side note on very narrow trousers: They only ever look good on thin people. Do not wear them if you have any softness around the middle. They will make you look immeasurably fatter. Like a blancmange on matchsticks in fact. I’m consistently amazed at exactly how fat they can make men look that I would otherwise have considered slim.)

I like narrow trousers because they suit, to my eye, my other clothing choices – slim shoes and tailored jackets. Having a rather large number of shoes I would like to display, it also helps having slimmer trousers that will rest on to of the shoe and not envelop it.

I know it was considered stylish for a long time to pair fuller, wider trousers with short, nipped jackets (Cary Grant, Oxford Bags) but I prefer to put together items that balance rather than contrast. As Coco Chanel said: “Fashion is architecture; it’s a matter of proportions.”

However, I have a problem: perhaps due to several years of cycling, I have larger than average thighs and bottom. So trousers that are too narrow or too low-waisted get as far as my thighs and stop. This is particularly a problem with contemporary jeans, though less so with formal trousers.

For jeans, I end up going for more traditional cuts – Levi’s 501s are pretty good, as are the Kilgour range of jeans, which are purposefully cut higher and use a clean, dark indigo in order to be smarter.

As a result of this, it is always worth me keeping in mind how narrow I like trousers to be, in precise measurements, when trying trousers on. Without a ready comparison, it can be surprisingly hard to try on a new pair of trousers and get an idea of how narrow they are compared to your optimum width. You can, of course, compare them to the trousers you were wearing that day, but if these are very different in style or material they won’t help much.

It also helps to get an assistant to pin the trousers at the length you would have them hemmed to – width can vary surprisingly along the trouser leg, and it is easier to see the width when the ends are not crumpled up on top of your shoe.

All of which is a long way of saying that I now make a point of knowing the widths I prefer, in inches. I recommend doing something similar.

My preferences are (measured as the circumference of the leg at the bottom – just measure the width when flat and double it):

Suit trousers – 16 inches. (Anything less than this I would class as very narrow).

Jeans or more casual trousers – 17 inches.

I’d be interested to hear other people’s preferences.

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A Mediterranean Summer

“The Med” an impatient acquaintance of mine once remarked “really is quite dead.” The remark was made during that very forgettable post-Beach period when everyone I knew was stampeding in the general direction of Thai Air; backpacks, boarding passes and bonhomie. Chums were desperate to corner a piece of the ‘Thailand action’; “It’s cheaper than Italy” chirped an optimistic friend; “The beaches are so perfect!” cooed another. Both remarks were arguably valid; it was cheaper than Italy and the beaches were the paradigm examples of how beaches should be. However, that has changed – largely due to the explosion in tourism.

To clothe yourself for such a trip requires little thought; large quantities of shorts, casual short sleeved shirts and polo shirts. The ‘look’ was that of a student cast adrift; a wanderer and amateur philosopher. This look even affected some of the hardy Meddites – those who clutched their cool cocktails on the Costa del Sol or the Riviera – whose holiday wardrobes seemed to belong among the palms and the temples of South East Asia. It was, and still is, an awkward sight; the juxtaposition of two contrasting world destinations, and indeed it would be equally jarring to see linen trouser chic and nautical flavours at Koh Samui. The question I am pondering is; is style geographically transferrable?

History has a good number of representatives of the chameleonic school of style; Byron on his travels East, Mark Anthony on his sojourns to Egypt and TE Lawrence in his Arabian element. On the Grand Tour it was not considered out of the ordinary for wealthy travellers to adopt the local dress and style of the nation in which they were residing; the image that all wealthy Europeans stomped around the ancient palaces and ruins of Europe in Parisian fashions and London tailoring is slightly inaccurate – adopting certain modes and peculiarities of dress was part of the entertainment of travelling.

In these post-colonial days, the concept of dressing so frivolously ‘for the occasion’ is very much outdated. Even men who consider themselves to be conscientious both sartorially and culturally are likely to adopt only a few fashions of a local flavour. Many observers might also consider that the internationalisation of fashion has led to the establishment of a ‘world fashion’; where gentlemen of all nationalities might adopt very similar ensembles for different localities and different purposes – this is, of course, the inevitability of improved communication.

If I were travelling in Europe, or beyond, for the summer season I would be attempting what has been considered a ‘Mediterranean style’; soft, light coloured shoes, linens, cotton shirts; cliché casual chic, a la Dickie Greenleaf from The Talented Mr Ripley. It’s comfortable and really rather adaptable. And specifically, it is transferrable. The Mediterranean style is not homogenous or dull; it looks altogether organic and fresh but it is certainly less conspicuous than some of the more ‘dandy’ and historic summer styles that, while often beautiful and striking, really do belong on the creaking boulevards and in the faded glory of Old Europe.

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The Elusive In-Between

Some while back, my fellow columnist Simon Crompton and I traded thoughts on the in-between look; that particular style which falls somewhere in the midst of formal and casual.

He commented that Americans probably do this a little better than the English. I retorted that I know more than my share of fellow Americans who can handily prove him wrong – or something to that effect. He probably has a point though; where the English still tilt in favor of more professional work attire, Americans have years of corporate casual under their belts – for better or worse.

Actually defining what constitutes the in-between look is difficult but I eventually settled on Justice Potter Stewart’s criteria of, “I know it when I see it.” But the question still remains; how does one compose an outfit that is neither too dressy nor overly casual? While not exactly the stuff of deep thinking, the truth is it’s harder to pull off than many of us admit. Sure, some actors and celebrities always seem look perfectly in-between but they have access to either well staffed wardrobe departments or a well paid lifestyle consultant.

So, what about the rest of us? How do we find that elusive but stylish place?

The first thing I would say is that the in-between look is more formal than casual; that is, it is an assemblage of clothing and demeanor that shows you have style and taste but are not too fussy. One can look very polished in old jeans, 15-year old brogues, a white oxford and a sport coat. The actor Hugh Grant comes to mind, he perpetually looks like he’s ready for either an evening of bar hopping or an awards gala.

I have heard the in-between look described as informally dressy, or conversely, as casually formal. Whatever you call it, the goal is to be well put together but not really dressed up. At the same time, you do not want to look sloppy or shoddy. The outfit mentioned above would fall apart if the jeans had just been worn while clearing brush or if the jacket was too large and the sleeves had never been hemmed. This is look where details matter a great deal because a fine line is being walked.

I think there is some validity to the argument that American men are more successful at informally dressing well. Another reader, an Italian gentleman, pointed out that European men are often very good at dressing formally but are a bit hesitant when it comes to toning down that level of dress; it’s not a natural move. Where Americans like to match their style of dress to where the want to be – what they aspire to be, if you will – it is still fairly common for Europeans to dress according to social station, even if not deliberately so.

I had never really looked at it that way before. Such a mindset can make the in-between place an awkward and unfamiliar one, even to very accomplished men. A good example of this dilemma was recounted by Sir Christopher Meyer, Britain’s former ambassador to the United States, in his book DC Confidential.

It involves the first meeting between President Bush and Prime Minister Tony Blair, which took place at Camp David, the president’s rural Maryland retreat. White House guidelines for the weekend called for a casual dress code but no jeans. Downing Street was stumped; how should Blair dress?

What would have been a ten, maybe 15-minute conversation in the States turned into a major production back in London. After a great deal of debate, he was outfitted in an awkward sweater and dark blue corduroys that were so tight that Blair could barely slip his hands into the pockets.  Bush appeared quite comfortable in khakis, button down shirt and a leather flight jacket.

Negotiating the formal v. casual minefield does not always have to take on such international ramifications, but it sure can feel that way sometimes.

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Don’t Become a Snob

Badly dressed people sometimes make me angry. I wish they just made me frustrated, or feel sympathy. But all too often they make me annoyed and shout silent commands in my head (“button that jacket up”, “your tie makes you look like a teenager”, “what’s the point in buying a nice suit if you’re not going to hem the trousers?”).

I wish it wasn’t like this. I always admire friends with strong faith that don’t bang on about it. They believe absolutely that there is a God. They believe that I will go to hell. And they care for me. Yet they will not badger me, hassle me, ask leading questions or in any way shuffle me towards confronting my agnosticism.

Most impressively, they will not take offence at me comparing menswear to religion.

They do this because they believe I will only come to God through my own curiosity. They will provide the example, answer any questions and make it known what they believe. Then they will stop.

So I endeavour to make people aware of how much joy there is to get out of an interest in how you dress, without shouting about it. I emphasise the fact that seeing well-dressed people makes me happy, just like being surrounded by beautiful countryside, or well-designed buildings can make me happy.

It’s not an arrogance about only liking beautiful clothes or beautiful people. It is appreciating beauty where you find it. Without that there wouldn’t be much point in anything aesthetic.

I consciously strive for this because I believe passionate interests split people into two types: the snobbish and the tolerant.

When someone becomes very involved in a particular activity, it is usually because they take great joy in its pursuit. I take great joy in considering what I wear everyday and discussing it with others.

Such enthusiasm can easily become obsessive, and with that obsession comes a danger of arrogance. You end up judging people because they do not share your interest – in this case, because they dress badly.

It is a constant battle to keep your interest a positive one, to communicate your passion to other people because you want to introduce joy into their lives – not because you think they are wrong.

Losing this battle leads to the greatest self-involvement, the biggest geeks, nerds and haughty snobs. One should evangelise, but not preach.

In fact, that sounded like preaching. I apologise. I should evangelise, not preach. I wish I was better at it; I recommend it to you as something to strive for.

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French Collars and Cuffs

“Men should only wear those” remarked an acquaintance “when they’re over forty.” He flicked his finger nonchalantly at a charming ‘French’ shirt (white collar and cuffs). I disagreed with him on the basis that youth is a perfectly acceptable, and often most appropriate, period in which to explore style to the fullest.

I very much like French collars and cuffs. I like the smart white ‘framing’ of the shirt colour or pattern; they are reassuringly formal. They are not all worn correctly. Some people have a tendency to buy an extremely large collar size and, due to the white accentuation, this has the rather sad effect of making a man look like a matchstick with a Polo mint; others wear them without jackets and while this look is largely inoffensive, it is not using the qualities of the shirt to best effect. A French shirt without jacket, billowing in the wind, can make the shirt cuffs look more like rigid manacles if it is the standard fit of shirt.

Another mistake which is made is to assume that this shirt is only for formal wear; for a wedding, or a terribly important meeting. Some men who purchase them retain them for such purposes and such purposes alone and, in doing so miss out on the fun (yes, fun) of wearing such a shirt on less formal occasions.

To open the French shirt at the neck is not the most traditional or conservative method. Most might prefer a tie but in fact, the French shirt, with the crisp white contrast is enough of a decoration in itself.

Wearing it with a neck scarf, of linen for summer perhaps and of silk for winter, is particularly eye-catching; the white collar and ruffles of a cravat appear made for each other, so natural is the harmony. While a mid to light blue is the most popular colour – a representation of two of the Tricolore – there are other colours and patterns, flattered by the ‘touch of white’ in the French shirt. Lilac, light pink and stripes are complemented very well in the context of a French shirt.

Although they are currently a fashion item, they are not as widely available as one might hope. Even Jermyn Street assistants stare at me blankly when I request examples of them. They are around and, increasingly, are manufactured without white cuffs – Hackett and Ralph Lauren examples found are all sans white cuff.

I discovered a curious blog article written, clearly with a sense of humour, denigrating the shirt as one worn by ‘assholes’; mentions were made of Gordon Gekko and Bill Lumbergh (from ‘Office Space’) as prime examples of the type of man, or monster, who would wear such an item; brash and feared rather than respected. The apparent connotations for the wearer are of disreputable and unpleasant characters; selfish, greedy, manipulative men epitomised, in the eyes of many, by the character of Patrick Bateman; the sick, greedy and lunatic serial killer creation of Bret Easton Ellis.

I think it rather a shame that this is such a popular opinion. The heritage of the shirt itself is more apparent from the French shirt. It is a reminder of the past; that collars used to be detachable – an era of delightful prim and fuss. To me it speaks not of boozy brokers and sleazy executives but of an old world charm: of high starch and clean Edwardian lines. White adds sparkle and a sense of cleanliness marvellously well, while at the same time enriching and ennobling the colour juxtaposed.

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