Style and Sartorial Alchemy

It is apparently a truth that when I am asked the meaning of my words, I take on an intentionally sonorous tone of voice; I gesticulate slowly and I become irritatingly professorial.

Someone considerably senior in years recently asked me exactly what I meant by indefatigable. I was sufficiently shocked that a person of age, education and experience was indebted to me for an explanation of a pretty ordinary word in the jolly old English language. I was also asked by a friend, in close confidence, what the meaning of a certain girl’s words were; my knowledge of feminine vocabulary is scant and so, though I tried, I was able to offer little comfort. However, my most Mammoth of ‘meaning’ tasks came last week when someone asked me exactly what I understood style to mean.

Normally armed with a portmanteau load of explanations and pithy clarifications, I was alarmingly devoid of an appropriate knee jerk response; a sign perhaps that I haven’t the foggiest idea what it actually means. Or perhaps, I thought, it is something that requires quiet contemplation and a little devotion of time and thought. Earnestly, I formulated ideas and theories and established a central pillar of belief that the true meaning of style is resourcefulness.

It’s rather like one of those fables, teaching the value of utility through a poor old man making bread or the performance of the quite impossible art of alchemy. With every resource and consultant in the world, a man can effectively purchase ‘style’. The greatest tailors and cobblers are at his command to manufacture the most splendid creations that come to their imaginations. But is he necessarily a stylish man? Arguably not.

His admiration of style and his embracement of it is certainly a mark of taste but, as my wizened grandfather told me, style does not belong to everyone. He likened it to art in the sense that true artists actually belong to a minority; a small and rather elite group who cannot help but create art. Their entire being is devoted towards its creation, every moment of their lives affected by an inner compunction to display their flair. Despite this undeniable faculty, the greatest of artistic assets, as far as he was concerned, was not talent but patience and a willingness to learn.

These are definite qualities of the true style man; for one who can take fashion rags and form elegance exhibits certain patience: patience perhaps with his own bank account, patience in relation to the meagre surroundings, and patience for the inadequacy of the high street store.

I do not possess sufficient patience in this regard; I am notorious for my exasperation and intolerance. Having said that, I am awfully willing to learn; from the input and influence of others and from my own mistakes. Breathtakingly broadly-speaking, I am more likely to become excited about innovation and utility rather than what I call ‘painting by numbers.’

This is perhaps a rather undeserved title for what is actually real sartorial awareness; interest in style brings tens of thousands of readers to these columns every week and if there was no need for the sharing of knowledge, my words would be valueless. However, given a few basic materials, an artist can produce magic – the same can be said of a true ‘style’ man.

This is not to say that there isn’t value in knowing where to purchase the best shoes, or who makes the finest looking jackets; far from it. Having style is about choosing the right garments; it is about the right cut of trousers and the ‘best department stores.’ There is no discredit in adapting without invention, and there is a rare and undervalued excellence in assembling knowledge and using it effectively.

Nevertheless, to me, the chap with every resource in the world, with merely the finest clothiers money can buy, possesses only a nodding acquaintance with style. There is no intimacy in the relationship. There is certainly no disgrace in his approach and there should be no automatic condemnation simply because he is able to afford what others cannot. After all, every artful style creator would wish for the clothing budget of an oil tycoon. However, sartorial alchemy has always impressed me considerably more than mere costuming.

When my grandfather was teaching an art class, providing the students with inexpensive gouache paints, one of them plucked up the courage to approach him and tell him it was impossible to paint anything; the paints were quite simply, not good enough. He took the palette from the young imp and inside half an hour painted a splendid landscape in some style to the silent amazement of the watching students, proving, rather smartly, that though some resources may be lacking in quality, or perhaps completely devoid of individual worth, there is still the possibility, with patience and an open and imaginative mind, of producing art from them.

Back to Basics - Hats

There was a time in the not-so-distant past when a man’s head, whilst outside, would always be covered by a hat. Go back a bit farther and one discovers that much of the new world, or at least Canada, was discovered due to an insatiable British desire for felt hats made from beaver pelt. Fast forward to the sixties where the entire plot of Le Samourai hinged on the fact that he wore a specific style of fedora and you begin to see just how important hats have been in both fashion and general world history.

As a hat person myself I’ve loved the new interest in headwear, as more varied styles become widely available and specialty hat shops open and remain open. And the renewed interest has lead to innovative collaborations.

Leading the way is British hat manufacturer Kangol. In April they teamed with Junya Watanabe of Comme des Garçons, who sent his models down the runway with Classic Cabbies fabricated out of his signature patterns.

Then in September they worked with Rickey Kim of Evil Monito to update two of their classic looks. Kim’s versions of the Felt Fedora and the Classic Cabbie retain the traditional Kangol lines; he innovates on the inside where he has silk screened photographs from his own family collection. And, perhaps justifying its $160.00 price tag, the fedora comes with a space invaders-inspired hat box and four pins.

For someone just starting out the number of choices can be overwhelming. The fedora is a good starter hat, as it tends to go with almost anything (although one might want to avoid the Pete Doherty habit of wearing his Trilby to style death). The Brixton Gain fedora will give you the style without raiding your bank account.

The Goorin Rude Boy adds a feather to the mix and is on sale now for $37.50.

Other safe bets from the Goorin line, hat makers since 1895, include the grey tweed Suzuki, the plaid Mondavi, or the poorly named but still interesting leather/snakeskin Boom Boom.

David Colman in the New York Times attributes the rise of the fedora to none other than Brad Pitt. Pitt has been in the fashion news again for wearing a hat, this time a newsboy; he tried selling them for his charity, Make It Right. Of course, wear anything too long and people might start to notice. The lesson, if there is one - coordinate your hats like the rest of your accessories, and use them sparingly. On the other hand, Pete Doherty once dated Kate Moss.

Artisan Chic

For those not inclined to polished looks, preferring the appeal of imperfections rather than divine precision, artisan chic is a classic style reference. Unlike a lot of other rather scruffy clothing, there is a legacy of purpose behind the multitude of pockets in an artisan’s jacket and a story behind the crumpled lapels. The artisan always desired a quiet smartness but the main quality of artisan clothing is a focus on the practicalities for the craft.

I once walked through Positano, looking in the little shoe-making shops, admiring their dedication to their work whilst gazing on rows of half finished shoes in a trancelike state. In one particular establishment, the little cobbler sat on a stool in a three-button linen jacket; underneath was a thick weave waistcoat and a check shirt with a cream tie. I wish I had taken a picture as it would not only have been lovely to display with this article, but it would have shown how much use he was actually getting from his clothing. Wooden handled tools popped out from his breast pocket, little nails were piled inside a small waistcoat pocket. He was an image so lacking in pomp, and yet so stylish in delivery. His personal fashion was likely decades old but so ingenuous. Like the tap-tapping of his honest craft, his clothing was self-explanatory and lacking in pretence and even though I am no skilled craftsman, employing a clothing style dedicated to practicality is something I admire.

The corduroy or linen jacket

The start of every artisan look should be the jacket. It should fit well, but it should avoid folly and fashion; short jackets may be the vogue, but keep the artisan jacket a classic length. Secondly, in terms of colour, browns and greens may be the very ‘usual’ colours for corduroy but the most interesting versions I have seen are in navy and black. These colours are also more appropriate for the coming season as I tend to consider certain browns and greens too autumnal. Linen jackets are more appropriate for warmer times of year and their unstructured shape relaxes all combinations. I like linen jackets in sacking colours and they look excellent with a favourite white shirt.

The useful waistcoat

Another signature garment of the artisan look is a waistcoat with working pockets. Unlike foppish fashion creations, the practical waistcoat is often made from a knitted material, perhaps lambs wool, and the chief characteristics apart from the informal pockets, are the simple lapels and high break. Effectively, it is a sleeveless cardigan with a large number of pockets.

The trousers

One of the things I noticed about the charming chap from Positano was that he, for no particular reason, rolled his trousers up boyishly, displaying his naked ankles. This is a particularly appealing touch and it works with practically any type of trouser, although it’s best to stick with straight and slim leg trousers or reasonably well worn and tired-looking denim.

The shoes

The shoes completing the style should be practical but not bulky; an old looking yet elegantly shaped pair will always trump a brand new pair of ugly blocks. A good colour for the shoes is rich burgundy, like that of a fine old wine and any wear and tear adds character, but the shoes must be well polished and cared for, otherwise the look can descend into tramp chic.

Favourite Ensembles: Burberry Prorsum Fall 2005

Christopher Bailey has done a fine job at Burberry. With a company legacy of gabardine rainwear and perhaps the most recognisable tartan check in the world, it was not a simple task to take Burberry from its fashion status as a ‘gilded pretender’ and to push it into the respected arena of financially successful ‘superbrands’ such as Dior Homme and Alexander McQueen. Having all the celebrity and historical credentials one could wish for, comparable, but not necessarily equal, to rival brand Louis Vuitton, designing for such a grand name couldn’t possibly pose any risks for such a talented designer. However, he has not shied away from risk-taking as far as his work is concerned and his men’s collections, though they frequently draw on Burberry’s heritage, have broken new ground and sometimes, delightfully, draw on a wider English heritage.

Such is the case with the above outfit, one of my all time favourite ensembles from the runways. Though there is an undeniable conservatism - the classic shape of jacket, the straight leg trousers and the Oxford shoes - this outfit has such vibrancy, such a kick, that it draws second and third looks. The leather two-button jacket, with a texture and colour of forest ivy, produces one of the ‘effects’ for which I have great admiration; this is the effect of taking an ordinary and commonplace item and, by altering one facet of it, completely extricating that ordinary and commonplace theme. Another example may be the adding of a thin, egg yolk patent leather belt to a pair of black trousers instantly removing the dullness and the humdrum; like throwing a wedge of lime into the G&T. A plain jacket, even an ordinary wool or cotton ivy green jacket, would not have such a special effect; it’s the leather ‘twist’ that really lifts the item.

Individually, the items are of high quality and of an interesting texture, but it’s the agreeable interplay that really makes the whole thing stand out. The tangerine jumper would not have such an appeal were it not for the sober colours at its borders; and such pairing applies, vice versa – it’s the strength of that central tone that prevents the dark grey trousers and shirt from looking too miserable. The blue suede gloves and the plum shoes are inspired touches; both muted colours, not attempting to compete with the powerful knitwear, but still adding to the palette. The bamboo handled Burberry check umbrella, as well as the corsage, adds that welcome touch of whimsy.

Bailey once said that he refrains from thinking about things in terms of taste; good or bad, but rather, he prefers to think of items as ‘sophisticated or ugly’. The joy is then in combining the two together. Although as a look, I would prefer complete sophistication, which Bailey rightly regards as ‘too easy’, the combination is inescapably modern; like a 1960s office block built next to a Victorian mansion. It’s a challenge but its theory is grounded in the realities of our topsy turvy world: that ugliness in individuality can be tempered, and even enhanced, by a union with irreproachable sophistication and beauty.

Hiking and Style

If I could think of one leisurely pursuit associated with garments that are the antithesis of good style, hiking is the pursuit I would think of. Hiking, or hill walking, itself is a healthy and rather romantic activity; the beautiful scenery, the wonderful mountain air and the enjoyment of exercise. It’s a reengagement with nature and an invigorating experience, and it’s rather sad that the equipment and attire accompanying does not possess the same beauty or style. Having said that, it would of course be absurd to wear impractical and merely decorative clothing in the wide open spaces; one needs waterproof material, sensible footwear and decent warmth. You cannot be stranded on the peaks with only a silk scarf and a pocket square between you and the sweeping rains and the howling wind.

There is decent outdoor clothing that doesn’t look like it has been manufactured for traffic wardens; waterproof jackets that have style and aesthetic value and not merely Gore-Tex credentials, and boots that, blissfully, do not look like they have been constructed from an old car seat.

Hill walking doesn’t need to include a brief, forgettable departure from your personal style; by concocting the right outfit, you can feel a man of style even in the wilderness of the breathtaking rural glens. A visit to the local caravanserai, post exercise, in decent hiking clobber rather than the embarrassing nylon clobber that spends most of the time gathering dust at the back of your wardrobe, somehow makes a great difference. The way to stand out from the rest of the gaudily garbed walking crew is to tune in with nature; tonally, browns, greens, light greys and a dash of pagan orange. This is no camouflage, but rather a toast to Nature’s beauty.

Generally speaking, country walkers might choose the jacket on the left. Filled with natural down, it presents good value and warmth and is made by the highly esteemed North Face brand and it will be robust for a few coming years. It might also serve well as a jacket for winter sports. The down filling also means excessive layering is not required. However, despite these very practical and persuasive qualities, I would always plump for one of the other two jackets. Barbour jackets to me are a happy medium between hard-wearing practicality and timeless pastoral style; the greens and browns sing in harmony with nature, the waxed outer layering gathers character like that of a mossy rock and the construction always retains its shape even after years of use.
When it comes to boots, most of the footwear you will see when gadding about on the hilltops looks rather ‘technical’, (left) but is in fact merely comfortable; expensive hiking boots offer extra support, but I find that this market is largely a promotion of the value in Velcro straps, flashing lines and ‘technical’ looking materials. If you want to feel like you are wearing bedroom slippers on wooded mountains then hiking is not for you; nothing will ever feel as good as you hope, despite the appealing names. Timberland (centre and right) manufacture some of the finest practical footwear. The shoes are hard-wearing and comfortable and the support is perfectly adequate. Importantly, the designs themselves, while not exactly in the class of Berluti, are far more appealing and have a game-hunter rusticity in comparison to the rather appalling Hi-tecs pictured on the left.

Hats too are generally required; the Pens are not a place to be seen with an umbrella and felicities such as ‘feeling the rain on your face’ belong in a paragraph of Austen, not in the grim realities of the great outdoors. A lot of people choose rather cheap, shapeless hoods attached to their jacket. Whilst this is certainly practical, it is also rather dreadful. Barbour manufacture wonderful wax brimmed hats, utterly waterproof, that assist in cutting a fine mountain figure whilst keeping your head very warm and completely dry.