Black And Brown

Black shoes look great under dark gray wool, but there is a less obvious opportunity to wear them stylishly and that is with dark brown.

Black shoes are not often seen with brown suits of course but that is simply because we do not sight many brown suits in the first place. "No brown in town" is a not unreasonable guideline, however the definition of "town" should really be the center of a major metropolitan area like London where the phrase was coined. Brown's slightly more casual look is perfectly appropriate in small cities and the suburbs, particularly in autumn and winter when it blends in with the colors of the season.

In the top photo, black Cleverley semi-brogues, walnut Bresciani Super 140s Ribbed Wool Hose and a suit in H. Lesser's 11 oz/330 gram dark brown glen check from the Lumb’s Huddersfield Golden Bale book (the trousers normally fall to the shoe but are raised for the photo).

Above the waist, a light blue royal oxford shirt that complements the blue overcheck in the jacket is worn with a navy and silver houndstooth necktie and a silk pocket square printed with a dark red paisley pattern.

Conflicted

There is no telling where the current rush towards color in men's shoes will end up but, curmudgeon that I am, I was conflicted by the display in Edward Green's shop in London earlier this Fall. The two patent leather designs on the bottom shelf struck me as entirely inappropriate for evening, one because it is a blucher and the other a perversion of a shoe meant for day wear. The two pair on the top shelf though are something else. One is a classic pump and nothing wrong with that. The other, the pump with a red bow and red trim, is more interesting. On the one hand I could classify it as another sign of a man who does not know any better but wants to be different (red bow ties come to mind), but then again the shoes themselves look pretty good and though they may not have been seen before I am not aware of any rules against them. Indeed, men have been wearing colored velvet slippers with black tie since the whole thing started.

Regular readers will have heard me rail against color in black tie, with the exceptions being dress sets, socks and pocket squares. And though white tie has not gotten more varied as it has died out, the insistence of Hollywood stylists on untraditional black tie accessories seems to have broken down some sort of barrier. Men are taking on peacock touches formerly reserved for the ladies, and that is how I look at those pumps. If the wearer is a publicity seeking male he might wear them without my blessings but years ago I knew a woman who wore black tie and a top hat around New York in the evenings and she would have looked great in them.

Photo by Chloe Lederman

Shark Bait

There was considerably more attractive untanned skin on display on various females around the pool and on the beach where I was staying on holiday, but there is nonetheless something not quite right about legs that have seen little or no sun for months suddenly bared for all to see. That sad state of affairs (mine, not the females) comes about each winter when we travel to Florida after a Northern California coastal summer too cool for the beach.

Of course, even if the Bay area weather was warmer my legs would no doubt remain pale. I am a firm believer that a man's lower extremities ought to be covered in public unless the water is lapping near his ankles. That means linen trousers for tropical wear instead of shorts; indeed I have but two pair of Ghurka shorts that may be worn for household chores in the unlikely event that I should be overcome with ambition on a summer's day.

In the photo, one of John Laing's best in class polos, Vilebrequin swim trunks and a pair of sockless Sloop slipons. Between shoes and shorts there is only shark bait.

Suits And Socks, Installment XXXV

Naples Florida was likened in the 19th century to the Italian bay of the same name due to its mild climate and abundant fish and game. I am unable to speak to the fish and game but the climate is definitely mild and the libations virtually identical.

The two places are separated by several thousand miles culturally as well as physically. On the way to dinner the first night we shared an elevator with a family where the father was wearing an odd jacket, jeans and an untucked white shirt - something I don't recall seeing around Naples Italy. Though perhaps it is only a matter of time.

In the photo, gray and white houndstooth patterned cotton socks worn with Norwegian style slipons and gray tropical weight trousers. Above the waist, the shirt was tucked in.

Lifestyle: Bond And That Car

Anyone who was even just four going-on-five years old in the autumn of 1964 will remember watching the James Bond film Goldfinger for the very first time. Some of them will have seen it to the greatest advantage in one of Oscar Deutsch’s great, big, single-screen, Odeon cinemas which, owing to urban redevelopment, have nearly all been lost to us. In any event, most adults have seen the film.

Besides the film stars, the film featured a glittering co-star; a silver-birch coloured Aston Martin DB5, considered by many the most beautiful Aston Martin ever made, complete with all the gadgets which ‘Q’ branch could muster. The novel has Bond being assigned, out of the secret service car pool, an Aston Martin DB Mark III (Fleming called it a ‘DB III’, which was actually a racing car), with far less in the way of extras, apart from: reinforced bumpers (for ramming); a light-colour and light-shape-changing apparatus (to avoid being followed at night); a long-barrelled Colt .45 revolver in a secret compartment under the driver’s seat and a radio tracking device. The Bond of the novel decided that these slight extras gave it the edge over a Jaguar 3.4 litre. However, by the time that the film came to be made, the DB5 was the latest model of Aston Martin and so that was eventually used but it was first fitted with all manner of modifications: tyre-puncturing, spinning hubcaps; revolving number plates; front machine guns; a smoke screen device; a nail spreader; moving bumpers; a rear oil-slick dispenser; bullet-proof windows and a back-screen shield; a passenger ejector seat (and roof hatch), as well as a radio tracking device; all controlled from a panel between the front seats.

In fact, the gadgets were the actual work of set designer Ken Adam, in collaboration special effects’ engineering-guru John Stears, and the toy maker Corgi produced a toy DB5, complete with some of the gadgets, making it the best-selling toy car of the year. An Aston Martin DB5 has, altogether, appeared in five further Bond films: Thunderball (when rear pressure hoses seem to have been added to the armament); Goldeneye; Tomorrow Never Dies; Casino Royale, as well as the latest - Skyfall and (although some of the later appearances have been as an ingenious and expendable 1:3 scale model, created by a three dimensional printing process in plastic), in a nice tribute to the long association between James Bond and Aston Martin, the original licence registration plate of the armed DB5 (BMT 216A) makes a re-appearance in Skyfall. The tribute comes in the 50th year since the first Eon Productions’ film Dr No and just in time to mark the 100th anniversary of Aston Martin in 2013.

Words by Nicholas Storey

Photo by Aston Martin Lagonda Ltd.

If You Must Go Tieless

Having noticed Will’s three-post streak of grey the other day and deduced that he appears to have brought his bedtime reading to work, I will attempt to save us all from 47 more such posts by introducing some color to this blog. If you must go tieless this winter, avoid the open-shirt-with-suit look which has replaced the untucked striped shirt with pants as the outfit of choice for the unimaginative peripherally stylish man. While Mark Cuban can sort of carry it off if we are not being critical, the rest of us, not having acceded to his role as successor to Richard Branson’s role of charismatic billionaire, shouldn’t try to ape him. Instead, try a turtleneck, like one of the stack of single-ply cashmeres in a spectrum of colors pictured here by Caerlee Mills or something from John Laing. They’re light enough to wear under a jacket or sportcoat and soft enough to be miles more luxurious than luxury fine-gauge wools (whose makers’ constant arms race to come up with higher and higher, barely comprehensible, yarn fineness numbers benefits their marketing more than it does the wearer). And, of course, they’re warm. Warm enough to wear without a jacket indoors and under a coat outdoors in brisk weather without the additional fussiness of a scarf. For, despite the love Will and I share for neckerchiefs, I’ve found that I just don’t want to deal with the extra thought (cue “O RLY” from the peanut gallery) of remembering to wear a winter scarf, knotting and unknotting it passing from outdoors to in, the preciosity of wearing it around indoors if the place I happen to be is underheated, and, especially, remembering not to forget it somewhere. (Of course, if you must wear a scarf, you can’t do better than the cashmere scarves by Begg, as sold by Will – and I say this as someone who acquired his long before writing for this site).

Besides, in addition to providing a blessed infusion of glorious color, a good solid-colored cashmere rollneck provides a suitable (pardon the awkward metaphor) canvas to play with pattern and texture in the rest of what you’re wearing without the risk of the sort of self-conscious busy-ness that bedevils some of my sprezzatourist camwhore e-friends on the internets. I had debated whether to address concerns that turtlenecks are in fashion right now and thus risk being dated and unfashionable in a few moments. But I realized I’ve been wearing them for 20 years, fashion or not. Like a military-style greatcoat, a good shearling, a Chelsea boot or an RJ cat pocket square, turtlenecks are one of those perennially good-looking fashion touchstones that get cited and interpreted by designers no matter what the fashion trend of the moment is. And, as with the above, there is a variety of different style icons whose influences you can draw on in sporting one: think of John Saxon in Enter the Dragon purring louchely, “I like his style” or Lord Snowdon’s bespoke turtleneck formal shirt that was too hip for a doorman in the 1960s, the late playboy Gunther Sachs, Steve McQueen in Bullitt, Marvin Gaye regal in a royal blue one on Playboy After Dark, Manfred Mann in the 1970s, Peter Saville any time. Only please avoid those strangely circumcised-looking mock turtlenecks unless it’s Dress Like Haircut 100 Day.

You can even wear most of the colors pictured with most shades of grey. Just don’t write any addled Twilight-based fanfic about it.

Words and photos by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Treat Yourself

Thanksgiving is the American season for giving, and I have just the thing for the man in your life. It has been out of stock for more than two years, but Simonnot-Godard wove its much admired light blue voile shirting just in time for the holidays.

An exceptional light-weight (but not transparent) cotton shirting fabric that is woven in France on 18th century looms, our voile makes an extraordinary shirt with either a spread collar and turnback cuffs or a buttondown collar and button cuffs.

I have only enough for twenty shirts. Treat yourself.

Have A Couple Winter Suits

Winter suits are rarer than those for the rest of the year. I am far from an expert on ready to wear clothing but, on those occasions that I cruise the racks at the friendly neighborhood menswear retailer, the suits are all medium weight and lighter. Heck, the last time I looked at Zegna's made to measure cloth offerings the heaviest material they had was 11 ounces (330 grams), which is what I wear in moderate temperatures. When it is colder than 55 (13 C) I reach for something warmer.

By winter suits of course I mean those with cloth in the range of 13-16 ounces (400 to 500 grams), 16 ounces being about as warm as a man can wear in a temperature space. André Churchwell's glen check in the photo is an example, with cloth that is visibly heavier than what we see in typical department store suits.

I guess we cannot blame most of the clothing retailers, and I say most because many major cities still have one or two menswear shops that stock a full range of weights (Samuelsohn of Montréal, Canada, for example, makes some respectable examples that retail for $1,000 and a bit more). Seasonable wardrobes cost more than one year-round set of clothing, and it is possible to extend that temperature range of that mid-weight stuff with outerwear. Both the retailer and the customer may save some cash, though the real cost of that approach of course is cold legs for the man wearing what is essentially a summer suit in the depths of winter.

A compromise approach that does not add much cost to the typical wardrobe is to acquire mid-range clothes and then supplement them at one end of the temperature spectrum with a couple of summer suits and a couple for winter. There are in each season a couple days that are more moderate than others when mid-range cloth is perfectly adequate, but the winter suit will be appreciated when temperatures fall below freezing. Every wardrobe should have a couple of them.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today is the Thanksgiving holiday in the United States, where it is traditionally celebrated with family.

May the day be a happy one for you and yours.

Consider The White Shirt

Few things in a man's wardrobe are as underappreciated as the white shirt. Worn in the post-war years by every IBM man, white became the symbol of dull in dressing, noted for its tendency to wash out pale complexions when not in a proper context. But white was not always considered so mundane. A sign that a man did not work with his hands and could afford to have his clothing laundered, Beau Brummell for example wore nothing but white with his navy jackets and buff colored trousers.

Centuries after Brummell white shirts remain the best choice for evening, either with formal wear or a lounge suit. During the day, they complement jackets with white in the pattern, whether pin stripes for the City or black and white odd jackets like the one worn by Mr. Grant in the photo (he sets his off perfectly with a black necktie).

Whether oxford cloth or twill for cool weather, poplin for year-round wear or voile or batiste for the heat, consider the white shirt.

Distractions

If there was ever an argument for braces, it is the gray flannel trousers in the photo today. They are cut with perfectly straight lines, as all trousers should be, and after five minutes of clinging unsuspended to my waist they have already fallen enough to turn themselves into a mass of rumples.

I had originally been thinking about the limited usefulness of light gray trousers which, after all, can only be worn with jackets that are equally light in tone lest a man appear outrageously top heavy to his detriment. But I am distracted everywhere I turn.

For example, suddenly I cannot get any clothes. It started with the recent visit of a tailor who shall remain un-named. He was to bring two suits that I ordered a year ago, and that were fitted in the spring. But instead of arriving ready to wear, said garments had the same basting thread and appeared no further along than they had been. And then there was the gray glen check mid-weight that should have been fitted this time but was unmistakenly a navy blue pick and pick when it came out of the bag. I wonder if these things happen to other people.

Save as a reminder of an unfortunate experience a decade ago, I could have dismissed that experience as a single tailor having a bad day (year?), but I had another suit on order from a different tailor and when it was brought out for that fitting the trousers were complete but there was no jacket, which had been overlooked despite our extensive conversation about the features of the coat at the time the order was placed. And that is not to mention that I am forced to pack a large suitcase for a short trip to visit my sainted mother because my carry-on is in the shop for the replacement of a wheel, said operation consisting of removing a cotter pin, removing the old wheel and attaching the new one. Five minutes, to be generous, and I have not seen the bag since July. Nor have I seen the jacket and suit I planned to pack which remain in the custody of our Homeland Security with no sign that they shall be released before my flight.

I should make myself a gin cocktail except I seem to be out of Hendricks.

Deify No Man

“Ah; people just don’t dress like that anymore.” How many times have you heard someone say that, usually while looking at an old film or photograph? And how many of you believed it? I know I did, for a very long time.

I spent my teenage years during the seventies, which to me was just one big, long mountain range of endless polyester. Seasonal dressing, as far as I knew, didn’t really exist. The only difference back then in dressing for warm, cool, or cold weather was the addition or subtraction of a synthetic sweater, jacket, or coat. Old films and photos were the only places I saw texture, weight, or richness of fabric, so, being just a kid, I assumed those things were extinct. You won’t be surprised to hear that I was shocked, actually shocked, the first time I saw—in the flesh, so to speak—a pair of heavy flannel trousers, and a real Harris Tweed jacket. Actually, I should think anyone would be shocked when first seeing Harris Tweed—the heaviness, the intensity of the colors, the texture—all good fabrics, to me anyway, have a magical quality about them. The first time I saw linen I went quietly berserk, and remain the world’s biggest fan of that fabric, wrinkles and all.

So then, I surmised, these fabrics did still exist; it was possible to dress like the old movie stars—

But I was puzzled by one thing: why weren’t more men doing it? Obviously a certain large number could be dismissed for simply not caring about clothes, or being rightly shocked at the expense, but ALL of them?

I began to realize that when people say ‘they just don’t dress like that anymore,’ in their heads they were probably thinking, “Mere humans CAN’T dress like that—it’s impossible.” In other words, they see the old stars as sartorial gods you can’t compete with, and that is sad. And totally untrue.

I happen to think that Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., was one of the best-dressed men I’ve ever seen. This afternoon, I was flipping through my Doyle New York catalog of the Fairbanks auction, which took place last year. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before, but I was mildly surprised to find that Fairbanks occasionally wore wool fedoras and one-sided cufflinks. You could not pay me to do either.

Now if you think I’m just beating up on a defenseless dead man, or that I’m placing myself on a sartorial par with Fairbanks, you’re entirely missing the point. One of my favorite episodes of the old ‘STAR TREK’ is when Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Scottie are sentenced to death on an alien planet by re-enacting the shootout at the O.K. Corral. Since they must play the part of the Clantons (who lost), and history cannot be changed (?), there is no apparent way out. How do you compete with history? Spock tells them how—he knows the bullets aren’t real, and using his Vulcan ‘mind-meld,’ he convinces them, too. Essentially, he is telling them that the ‘emperor’—the bullets—have no ‘clothes.’ In the ensuing gunfight they are impervious, and the Earps and Doc Holliday get blown away.

Well, I’m not Spock, I’m not Vulcan, and even if I was both I’m not in the same room with you, so a ‘mind-meld’ would be out of the question (although the mental image of my pinching the side of a guy’s nose and mouth with thumb and forefinger, while staring into his eyes and repeating the mantra, “You can dress just like the Duke of Windsor” is kinda funny). Still, I’d like to take a shot at convincing you that the old movie stars were guys, not gods. I won’t do this by tearing them down, or by using worn-out clichés like “they put their trousers on one leg at a time, like everyone else.” That won’t work. I think there’s a shorter, more direct, more motivational approach.

Let’s take all the guys now living who care about clothes. They can be broken down into two groups: the ones who are intimidated by the old icons, and the ones who aren’t. The former group is certainly well-dressed technically, but the latter group has more glamour and dash about them. Yes; it’s visible. Which group would you rather belong to?

Remember, the old icons were just guys. Guys with a whole LOTTA help. $150 bespoke suits and $100 bespoke shoes sound dirt cheap to us now, but this was at a time when fifty cents would buy a full dinner for two people. During the Great Depression, the average off-the-rack suit cost fifteen dollars.

Few movie stars run to the tailors today. They run to the gym—and then hide their chiseled physiques under some of the ugliest clothes imaginable. Unlike stars of today, who are almost uniformly good-looking from birth, the stars of the thirties weren’t always good-looking to start out with: Clark Gable, before he learned how to groom himself, was hideous. Now if you take a guy, groom him, and dress him in head-to-toe bespoke, you know what he’s going to look like next to the average Joe? You got it—a god. But remember the alchemy is visual, not literal. Anything that was done to them can also be replicated on you.

If you think any of the icons were somehow more deserving than you are, you are doing yourself a tremendous disservice. Let me be really specific here: if you truly want to dress in that league, you cannot think they were even SLIGHTLY better than you are, not even by so much as an ounce. As Spock said to Kirk, even the tiniest doubt would be fatal. Andre Churchwell, for example, is clearly intimidated by no one—and it shows. He is the Real Tabasco, and looks more like a Laurence Fellows drawing come to life than any man past or present. Speaking of past or present, if those two temporal concepts could be eliminated, I’d say that Fred Astaire was trying to dress like Bruce Boyer, rather than the opposite.

So, in the simple words of Universal Pictures founder Carl Laemmle, Sr.: “It can be done.” When it comes to the old icons, admire their presentation by all means. Learn from them. Just don’t deify them.

Words and photo by Barry Pullen

Lifestyle: Seduction and Domaine Faiveley

I was twenty-something when I was seduced in the village of Gevrey-Chambertin. It happened in the dark, damp cellar of a winemaker whose door I knocked on because I needed a red wine to go with the saucisson, cheese and bread that I purchased at the local epicerie.

He handed me a glass and took one, too. Plunging a long glass tube into the first barrel and siphoning some wine, he released an ounce of it into my glass. I inhaled it and tasted. Its perfume was tantalizing and the texture as delicate as lingerie. He moved to another barrel, repeated the procedure and I inhaled and tasted the second wine. The fruit was ripe and sensual, like the first kiss of a lover I had unknowingly waited for. We embraced more barrels, and by the time I ascended from the cellar with bottles in hand, my senses swirled from the array of aromas, the silkiness of the wines, and the long, lasting pleasure from the final drop on my palate. I was in love with Burgundy.

But love can be unrequited. Since that time, I have longed to be seduced again; instead, I’ve been jilted by Burgundian winemakers who didn’t care, were indifferent, or plainly incompetent to make great wine. I learned that love requires passion. I learned that in Burgundy it’s not the label the bottle wears, but the person behind the label who must charm your senses.

Burgundy extends from northern Chablis to southern Macon. Within those boundaries lies the Cote d’Or, the golden slopes. A fraction of Bordeaux’s size, the hillside vines are devoted almost exclusively to two grapes, pinot noir and chardonnay, in some of the most exalted vineyards on earth: Montrachet, Romanee-Conti, Musigny, Clos de Vougeot, Clos de la Roche, Corton, and Corton-Charlemagne.

In the Cote d’Or there are also thousand of growers, tiny domaines, miniscule vineyards, large negociants, and world-renowned winemaking families like Faiveley.

In 1825, Peter Faiveley began this family-owned wine company now in the hands of its seventh generation 33-year-old Erwan Faiveley. Over the course of nearly two centuries, Faiveley suffered from Phylloxera, a vine eating louse, the Great Depression, and a self-inflected wound of unreliable winemaking that I experienced in the 1970s and early 1980s. By the late 1980s quality improved, but I continued to experience a mix of excellent and ordinary wines. Yet, through it all, Faiveley retained its assets: ownership of great vineyards, and smart family members at the helm.

Erwan Faiveley graduated from Columbia University’s MBA program, and is working to reclaim Faiveley’s position as a top Burgundy producer. In 2007, he hired top-flight winemaker Bernard Hervet as Faiveley’s general manager. Hervet was the winemaker at William Fevre, the outstanding Chablis house, and he elevated the quality at Bouchard Pere et Fils, the largest vineyard owner in Burgundy. During the last few years, Faiveley purchased more grand cru and premier cru vineyards.

Last month, Erwan Faiveley presented five vintages of the grand cru Domaine Faiveley, Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley from 2009 to1928. In the 1930s, a French court ruled that Faiveley could attach its name to its grand cru vineyard, making it the only one in Burgundy where the owner’s name is an integral piece of the vineyard’s identity.

We started with the 2009 Domaine Faiveley, Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley. Its pure black cherry hue and blackberry, basil and plum aromas are a captivating introduction. An elegant body carries rich black fruit flavors that glide across the palate and leave you with a cranberry-like finish that is so long lasting Faiveley should pay rent. Perfectly balanced tannins, acidity and fruit display the quality of pinot noir in 2009 and the expertise of the new winemaking team at Faiveley. Buy the 2009 Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley with the commitment to age it until 2019 and, depending on your cellar, savor it to 2035-2040. Expect to pay about $225.

As good as the 2009 is, the 1999 Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley is a step higher. Its clear black cherry color, billowing black fruit aromas and flavors are the historical footprint of this great vineyard. The fruit and tannins are as harmonious as a Bach concerto. And the wholeness of the wine is symphonic. If you find the 1999 Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley in a retail store, make sure it has been in temperature-controlled storage. Current retail is around $135 to 150 dollars. It sold at two auctions this year at $100 (which is a steal for this quality).

The 1990 Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley has a youthful red-color and black cherry and cranberry aromas and flavors. Its delicious fruit is wrapped in a velvet texture with a finish as long as a summer sunset. The 1990 vintage was superb throughout France: Elegant Bordeaux, exquisite Champagne, suave red Burgundies and muscular Rhone wines. It’s a vintage that you can still buy with confidence if you can validate the storage. A few retailers offer the 1990 Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley for approximately $200-225; earlier this year it sold at auction for $180, and last month, two magnums sold at Zachy’s auction for $325 each.

The 1979 Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley was poured from magnum. I don’t recall anything particular about the 1979 vintage other than it followed the excellent 1978. That said, one should not generalize too much about Burgundy because it is really about the winemaker or producer, not the year. In the right hands, the wines will seduce you with their delicate character and enchanting flavors no matter what Nature wrought. And in the wrong hands, you’ll be heart-broken by the wasted potential.

Just the slightest signs of age appeared in my glass of the 1979 Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley: brownish edge, a red center hinting of autumn orange, and the scent of a forest floor mixed with red fruit aroma. But the mouth was treated to vibrant red fruit flavors stacked on soft tannins that have every intention to remain on the palate until you recognize that this is why Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley is truly grand cru.

France’s 1928 vintage produced great wines. I have been astonished by bottles of youthful 1928 Krug Champagne and remarkable 1928 Mouton-Rothschild and Chateau Latour. The 1928 Corton, Clos des Cortons Faiveley reaches the same level. While the edge of the wine shows some disintegration, the center retains its red shade. And there remains a vibrant cherry scent combined with a leather-like aroma. But what marks this 1928’s greatness is its pronounced red fruit flavor and elegant body. It retains its chic, streamline figure and enthralling liveliness. This is a wine you sip not drink. It enchants. It seduces. It makes you fall in love all over again.

Words by John Foy

Photo courtesy of Domaine Faiveley

Perfectly Well Done

Every once in a while something is so perfectly well done that it calls for our attention even though it may be slightly outside of our comfort zone. Such is the case with the ASW Haberdashery's new knot them yourself bow ties in the photograph. Hand-sewn from limited edition matte silk from Como, Italy they look splendid with either a blazer or a suit in a contrasting color. Choose the brown and tan diamond point Prince of Wales check to complement a blue jacket and a white shirt, or wear the denim blue with a brown or tan jacket.

Each is 2 1/2" (6.3cm) tall and adjusts to fit 14 1/2" to 18" (37 cm to 46 cm) necks. $155.

Casual Gray

We probably need a new menswear vocabulary to describe the odd jacket's place in the wardrobe. The English have traditionally thought of it as casual, but that hardly seems accurate in a time when casual describes something considerably less dressy more often than not. Nor, on the other hand, is an odd jacket up to the same level of formality as a suit irrespective of the millions of young women who can or do not differentiate one from the other.

Useful as a new term or terms might be, we are here today to speak of gray once again, and gray it shall be. Or rather, gray complemented by olive green in a "casual" combination that is one of my personal favorites.

I have written over and over again that light blue shirts are great with navy but less so with gray. What works better are pinks, and tans like that of the shirt in the photo. Gray and tan in turn are well matched to olive and bottle green, shown here in my country-appropriate striped silk jacquard necktie whose navy and olive bar stripes and gold pin stripes are colored similarly to the green, gold and blue medallion print wool and silk pocket square. Striped neckties are in my opinion a little too casual to wear with most suits, coming into their own with odd jackets of all flavors. But there is that casual word again. We need another term.

Another Study In Gray

It was once perceived as a little fast, but in my opinion the double breasted waistcoat worn by André Churchwell is a fine complement to his gray single breasted suit. As I have written in the past, the cut is just rare enough to add interest to an otherwise conservative ensemble. It is probably a bit too dandified for very conservative offices but perfect for a well established man like the good doctor who can wear what he wants.

Churchwell's ensemble also demonstrates the efficacy of both the pink shirt and the necktie with a black ground in combination with gray jackets. Each looks better than blue would in this context. Not to mention that the dark gray is complemented nicely by black shoes (as would be a dark brown suit, but that is for another time).

Shades Of Gray

I can not definitively say that they will make would-be Christian Greys more dominant, but many shades of gray have that potential - particularly shirtings worn by otherwise powerful men who may be losing the color in their hair.

In the photo, Smith Woolens' charcoal hopsack suit, DJ Anderson gray on white checked shirt, a dark red pencil stripe on gray cashmere necktie and a white corded linen pocket square make handsome partners for any Ana Steele.

Clothing of course can only do so much. The effectiveness of the other shades will depend on the terms of the contract.

Technical Sportswear In Town

Few items of clothing are more usefully stylish than the duvet-like quilted down jacket. Designed for hunting and riding, it is just as useful for a day of errands in town. Those large pockets designed for shells, sugar lumps, dog leads, and whistle are equally at home filled with driving gloves, eyeglasses, keys, wallet and iPhone.

Quilted outerwear comes in the form of gilets as well as coats. A gilet keeps its wearer's body warm without restricting his arm movements, which is a practical consideration for golf as well as shopping.

In the photo, style icon Beppe Modenese wears his technical sportswear over a dress shirt with a fringed cashmere scarf, worsted trousers and monk strap shoes.

RJ’s Alternative Style Icons: Sean Connery in Diamonds Are Forever

With the opening of a new James Bond movie and the 50th anniversary of the Bond movie series, attention has swung, once again, to the Bond wardrobe and found it expensive but unsatisfying, rather like most Bond films since Timothy Dalton’s debut (there, I said it). Right-thinking men’s style bloggers like my liege Will have formed a consensus: Daniel Craig, an excellent actor who brings both darkness and physicality to the role in a way no other actor playing Bond has, is badly served in ill-fitting tight suits that mock the idea of a tailored fit. From the depths of my caffeine-saturated two-ply Todd & Duncan cashmere-padded cell I advance this alternative for men seeking a stylish Bond to emulate: Sean Connery in Diamonds Are Forever.

Why Diamonds Are Forever? Because the earlier Connery Bond films didn’t feature a man, they featured a demigod, glowing with charisma, beauty and suavity against a backdrop of violent postcards, that no real person can hope to emulate. His appearance in Goldfinger, stepping out of a drysuit in resplendent Anthony Sinclair dinner jacket, defined the Bond character the same way Goldfinger defined the Bond film, setting a standard no one else could compare to, let alone match. None of us could carry off his swagger in that earlier film’s three-piece suits, to say nothing of the toweling onesie or dark straw trilby that only he could inhabit without ridicule. Instead, by the time Connery returned to the Bond franchise for 1971’s Diamonds Are Forever (reportedly for a million dollars in diamonds, which he then donated to charity), he was no longer that demigod, but a middle-aged fellow with a sanctimonious smirk who looked like my Dad. Essentially, Connery was not playing Bond, but parodying himself playing James Bond, which is how most of us would come off trying to approximate the earlier Bond looks.

Much has been made of the legendary “Conduit Cut” style of suits made by Savile Row tailor Anthony Sinclair for Connery in the earlier Bond films: trim with discreetly shaped waist and ever-so-slightly slim lapels and pocket flaps, but those details cannot turn mortal man into James Bond. Like much else in Diamonds Are Forever, Sinclair’s suits for Connery had to accommodate changing times: proportions were more generous, patterns a bit louder, much like the men’s style cusp on which we find ourselves today. More to the point, Diamonds Are Forever was the Bond film which fully acknowledged the ridiculous contrast between elegance, and everything else we want Bond to represent, and today’s world: Bond struggles through a garishly tacky Las Vegas full of touts, slot machines and Rocky Horror’s No-Neck, Charles Gray, as Ernst Stavro Blofeld in drag, assisted by twangy sausage king Jimmy Dean playing (thinly disguised) Howard Hughes at his most creepy… and Felix Leiter played as a balding nebbish in a short-sleeved dress-shirt. The ludicrousness of this encounter – and of many others throughout the film makes this a more realistic film for those wishing to take style cues from Sean Connery. For even if he is reduced to being a mere mortal, he demonstrates that mere mortals can carry off a pink tie, and should do so, even in cultural wastelands or in doing battle against those who would wipe all that is good – and worth wearing – from the face of the Earth.

Diamonds Are Forever was also remarkable as the first Bond film where Connery quite clearly couldn’t give a shit. It’s a testament to his magnetism and charm that it’s still great fun to watch. From this film on, he would go on largely to play this caricature of himself – swaggering and purring for the rest of his career. With some exceptions for the lengths he went to try to shake the taint of Bond typecasting: who can forget Connery parading around in Zardoz in red diaper, ponytail, revolver and fuck-me boots (when he wasn’t hiding in a wedding dress and veil)? From this, too, we can take a lesson: don’t care too much. Don’t sweat the details of whether Thom Browne nailed that Goldfinger copy suit in Catch Me if You Can, whether you can get Turnbull & Asser to sell you a finicky Bond-cuff shirt like Connery had in the early films, whether Brioni (who dressed Pierce Brosnan as Bond and Craig in his first Bond film) or Tom Ford better represents the James Bond esthetic. (Answer: neither. But then again, as Kingsley Amis speculated in 1967, nor had Bond’s suits ever “seen Savile Row.”) The only way you can aspire to dress like Connery’s Bond in today’s world is to wear it, own it and don’t overthink it. Alas, that “it” may always defy definition, but it’s closer to the grasp in Diamonds than in any other of Connery’s Bond films.

Other reasons to watch: well, it’s a Bond film. In addition to the usual Bond attractions, it features Bruce (father of Crispin) Glover, as half of a bizarre pair of assassins and lovers with jazzman Putter Smith, demonstrating that creepiness can be genetic. Also much in evidence is Jill St. John and her enormous creamy heaving IQ, which reputedly once caused Truman Capote to make a bitchy comment about intelligence being inversely proportional to acting ability. (One can wonder what Capote’s appearance in Murder By Death signifies, then.) And, of course, Lana Wood as the unfortunately named Plenty O’Toole. If her big sister Natalie was, as the joke goes, the only Wood that couldn’t float, Lana was the Wood that couldn’t act. Thanks, I’ll be here all week.

Words by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Lifestyle: Champagne Categories

While it’s tempting to think that all Champagnes are more or less similar in character, Champagne is actually made in a wide variety of styles. To begin with, Champagne is made from three different grape varieties—chardonnay, pinot noir and pinot meunier—and these can be blended in any proportion. There are also stylistic differences that vary from house to house. But also, there are a number of basic categories of Champagne that are useful to know.

Non-Vintage Brut Most Champagne is blended from multiple vintages, and a house’s non-vintage brut is the foundation of its portfolio. These can be as different from one another as non-sparkling wines are, and in general, they are designed to represent the individual styles of their respective houses. There are dozens of good examples available on the market, but some high-quality examples that are widely distributed include Louis Roederer’s Brut Premier, Philipponnat’s Royale Réserve and Bollinger’s Spécial Cuvée. If you’re adventurous, seek out wines from smaller producers like Chartogne-Taillet, Bérèche et Fils or José Michel. (Note that there are also some non-vintage wines such as Krug’s Grande Cuvée, Laurent-Perrier’s Grand Siècle or Alfred Gratien’s Cuvée Paradis that are not entry-level wines, but luxury cuvées, made of complex and intricate blends. These are easily differentiated from basic non-vintage Champagnes by their price tags, should there be any doubt.)

Vintage-Dated Champagne In addition to their non-vintage Champagnes, virtually all houses also make Champagnes that come entirely from a single year, and these usually indicate the vintage on the label. These wines are made from a special selection of grapes and typically cost a bit more, but they also generally demonstrate an increase in quality. Most houses make a standard vintage wine as well as a prestige cuvée, a top-of-the-line Champagne that represents the pinnacle of what the house can achieve (and that carries a correspondingly high price tag to match), and these are usually also vintage-dated. This category includes famous names like Cristal, Dom Pérignon and La Grande Dame, and as expected, the wines are usually superb.

Blanc de Blancs A Blanc de Blancs Champagne is one made entirely from chardonnay, the white grape of the Champagne region. Chardonnay produces fresh, lively Champagnes of notable finesse, suitable for serving as aperitifs or alongside lighter dishes. Good examples of blanc de blancs include those from Delamotte, Ruinart and Pol Roger; some smaller producers that make blanc de blancs worth seeking out are Agrapart, Pierre Gimonnet and Jacques Lassaigne. Among luxury cuvées, prominent examples include Taittinger’s Comtes de Champagne, Krug’s Clos du Mesnil and Salon.

Blanc de Noirs If Blanc de Blancs means Champagne made entirely from white grapes, Blanc de Noirs indicates a Champagne made exclusively from red grapes, which in Champagne means pinot noir, pinot meunier or a combination of both. However, the term Blanc de Noirs is not often seen on labels, even when the wine fits the criteria. Champagnes made in this style tend to emphasize strong notes of red fruits, not unlike a non-sparkling red wine, and they can also often pair well with any foods that you might drink a light red wine with. Some good examples include Benoit Lahaye’s Brut Prestige, Cédric Bouchard’s Les Ursules or Laherte’s Les Vignes d’Autrefois (a vintage-dated Champagne made entirely from pinot meunier). If you’re feeling flush, some highly exclusive Champagnes made entirely from pinot noir include Billecart-Salmon’s Clos St-Hilaire, Jacques Selosse’s La Côte Faron and Krug’s Clos d’Ambonnay.

Rosé Rosé Champagne has become increasingly fashionable over the past decade, and the quality of the wines made today is better than ever. Rosé Champagne is typically created by blending a little bit of red wine into a white Champagne, giving it some color and aroma, although a few rosés are made simply by macerating the grapes on their skins, as with red wine. A common perception is that rosé Champagne is sweet, although this is not necessarily the case, and most rosés should be served like any other Champagnes, either as aperitifs or alongside savory dishes, rather than with desserts. Look for the rosés from Charles Heidsieck, Deutz or Veuve Clicquot; among smaller producers, some standout rosés include those of Paul Bara, L. Aubry Fils and Marc Hébrart.

Words and photo by Peter Liem

Hand Made Hand Coverings

The first of the season's gloves came in the other day and we featured them on the store, but I did not post about them because a confused communication left us without one of the styles. Those of course are the now in stock light gray suede dress gloves in the photo, my personal favorite for urban day wear with a Chesterfield or any other dressy overcoat.

Uncovered hands were considered rude for hundreds of years, and the gray suede are but one of four politely stylish hand-stitched unlined gloves from Rome’s Merola Gloves, the 125 year old firm that makes for brands such as Brioni, Kiton, and Lamborghini. Unlined gloves are more flexibile and fit more closely, permitting more dexterity than their lined relations while still keeping the hands comfortable in temperatures down to freezing.

The stars of this hand show are unlined Carpincho dress gloves for day wear, From the skin of the South American Capybara, Carpincho leather looks like textured suede, is supple and very durable, and has a one-way grain that allows the glove to stretch to fit without becoming misshapen over time. They and the gray suede are joined by unlined dove gray Napa leather dress gloves for day wear and unlined black Napa leather dress gloves for funerals and evenings.

Offered in small (8 in or 20 cm), Medium (8 1/2 in or 21 1/2 cm), Large (9 in or 23 cm) and XL (9 1/2 in or 24 cm).

When To Wear It?

I was being interviewed on the history of black tie by radio host Jesse Thorne the other day and his final question was "Will, I have a dinner jacket. When do I wear it?" I mumbled something about the symphony but the question set me to thinking, and later I began wondering why any of us should have uncertainty about it. We live in an age where any man can wear anything, and, at least on the West coast of North America, he can apparently wear it anywhere. When there are thousands of men who think nothing of escorting their cocktail dressed better half to the casino wearing a work shirt and khaki trousers, as ten minutes in Las Vegas will demonstrate, why should any of us be concerned about wearing dinner clothes? Wear them for any occasion: dinner, the theater, or a Halloween party. They are certainly no more out of place than the Robin Hood garb I saw at the grocery store last week.

Of course, a followup question might be something along the lines of "But won't I look pretentious?" And in response I say that while there might have been some of that a couple of decades ago, the class distinctions associated with evening dress have essentially disappeared in this country. When the typical young man is unable to differentiate between an odd jacket and a suit, the nuances of dress that a few of us still pay attenion to are not generally relevant. So, if you are one of those that ask when to wear a dinner jacket my response is wear it any time you like. Except before six PM.

What To Choose?

Election or Skyfall. Election or Skyfall. Such are the tough choices we bloggers face, and in the end the opening of Skyfall in the United States won out. The event is considerably less important but the clothes are better.

Tom Ford of course is responsible for Daniel Craig's clothes in the film, and to his credit Bond is dressed in the restrained palette of the original films. Less creditably, the tailored clothing is too small, too tight and unlikely to be remembered favorably fifty years from now unless menswear has devolved to tee shirts and leather jackets for formal wear. And despite this they (the clothes that is) are considerably more interesting than the dumbed down garb worn by our current Presidential candidates.

But we at ASW do aim to please, and any readers disappointed that we did not choose a well dressed candidate for today's post may be consoled by Googling some photos of the late Ronald Reagan and/or listening to the rather famous recording of former President Lyndon Baines Johnson ordering some trousers while he was in office. The American Presidency has some tremendous perquisites but some negatives as well, and one of them is that every telephone call is kept for posterity.

Wear Better Socks

There is a town in the People's Republic of China that produces a third of the world's sock production, something like a billion pairs of cotton and nylon socks each year, which output demonstrates the basic rule (a corollary to Réginald-Jérôme de Mans's thesis of yesterday) that you get what you pay for.

Those billion socks are very inexpensive. They do not fit very well. Since they are generally available in only a single size, they tend to display visible ripples and rumples where there should be a smooth expanse of hose. They are also short. It takes more expertise to knit an over the calf that stays up without cutting off circulation, and, since over the calf socks are really only important with taiored clothing, that particular skill is too specialized for high volume producers to worry much about. So they make short socks.

Better socks, on the other hand, are available in sizes so they fit the individual's foot without rumples, and they not only cover the calf but remain in place. This at a cost that is a mere order of magnitude greater than your basic billion pair.

I say mere because even an order of magnitude difference leaves high quality socks as the most affordable part of a man's wardrobe. The difference between a week's supply that are prone to the cardinal sin of showing bare skin between sock and trousers and the really good stuff is perhaps $150, which is nothing to sneer at but within the budget of most men who wear tailored clothing. And the good stuff throws in greater comfort and better looks as part of the deal. I call that value.

Wear better socks.

Photo by Calzifico Bresciani

Untrueisms

The first of an occasional series of examinations of unreliable clothing clichés that through repetition without reflection have become received wisdom, and for which I have thus coined the needless neologism above.

“Quality is remembered long after price is forgotten."

This quality trope is commonly used to justify expensive classic clothing. I’ve alluded to this in past posts and noted that, contra a modern style icon, the best quality is not the cheapest: the real quality stuff is many times more expensive than dross of middling quality that will either last a tolerable length of time or be much cheaper to replace than the good stuff is to maintain and repair. Of course, there are other reasons to pursue the highest quality: esthetics, heritage, the strangely romantic thrill of personal meaning, the electronic approval of one’s claque of fellow Internet Gentlemen. More recently, this summer the clothing blogosphere, including some e-penners I think highly of, seized on a New York Times blog piece suggesting (as if it were a new idea) that we purchase something slightly more expensive that will last longer instead of cheap impulse purchases. The bloggers neglected to quote the later paragraphs of the original piece that advised readers to “buy the $20 shirt you will actually wear” instead of a $10 shirt they won’t. These figures and increments are less than the amount of the sales tax on the items the style bloggers are trying to justify purchasing with this exercise. And the value calculation in question is absolutely not scalable. A $200 shirt will likely not last 10 times longer than a $20 shirt, and there’s no objective metric by which we can judge it to be 10 times better. Nor does price necessarily indicate quality – a $200 off-the-peg shirt from Thomas Pink probably costs no more to make and is no better than a $40 or $50 shirt from Banana Republic or on permanent sale at Charles Tyrwhitt, while a custom one at around the same price as Pink from Cego in New York or Courtot in Paris will blow it out of the water in every way.

No, it is poor quality that is remembered long after price is forgotten. For some reason I seem to remember how much I’ve paid for every item I’ve had made that fit well, was well cut and carefully stitched, whether expensive or relatively reasonable, such as my mystery anonymous bespoke trousermaker’s magnificent Lumb’s Golden Bale wool creations pictured. Instead, what I can’t quite remember is (sticking with trousers) how much the trousers I’ve had made by two other tailors who turned out to be bad cost me. Whether Third World or Old World, recommended by the internet or by a friend of usually unimpeachably high standards and knowledge in these matters, the results in both cases were stitching that gave way in places that don’t usually stress, zippers that stuck, waistbands that rolled because the interlining was both flimsy and fused (a great way to discover that fusing can take place in trousers as well as jackets), and a great deal of frustration and disappointment, because all of these flaws didn’t reveal themselves immediately on delivery – just far too early in the lives of these garments to be excusable.

And, based on those experiences, I can note a corollary to the assertion above: the real value bespoke makers, the handmade tailor who takes in a little on the side or the retired bootmaker who makes gorgeous shoes for a tiny fraction of Lobb Paris’ price, are never going to be disclosed in a men’s fashion magazine article promising to name some cheap tailor every bit as good as the prestigious ones, or indeed in any public forum. While a few incredible prodigies like the above may exist, they’re jealously kept secret for good reason by customers who have made their own way through painful trial and error. Recent style history is full of horror stories of formerly reliable small makers who became word-of-internet-mouth phenomena, amassed a lot of orders and ended up compromising their quality or not delivering to their customers. Some of these great value makers on the other hand may not wish to draw the attention of the tax authorities or of their main employers to their lucrative little sideline. Some are kept a secret by customers who don’t want extra demand to drive up prices and push back delivery dates. Some simply are inaccessible to most people, insisting on in-person visits and cash payments and refusing to ship.

This is not to say that those who want to look good and have quality clothing must pay a lot of money. Rather, I think you can look good on almost any budget provided you have an eye for what works for you, a great alterations tailor, a great cobbler and a great dry cleaner. And time, time to search for the best quality you can find at the price you can afford, time to gain experience with what makes for a good and reliable tailor or maker and what makes for bad, time for quality to reveal itself and in so doing make its price justifiable, if not forgotten.

Words and photo by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Maintenance: Minutiae

I can’t say this stuff is glamorous, but it matters:

--You obviously want to tie a necktie with clean hands, so as to keep the knot area from becoming soiled. But when wearing a light-colored tie, make sure to wash and dry your hands just before donning your tie.

--If, like me, you wear woven ties almost exclusively, cut your fingernails only at night. This allows the nails to grow and even-out a bit before morning. Freshly cut nails have tiny shards that will snag your necktie. Considering that Neapolitan, English, and Milanese neckwear will never drop south of a hundred bucks again, this can be irritating in the extreme.

--When removing your dress shirt, dampen the collar and cuffs with a little water. Why allow the dirt to settle in, while the shirt waits to be cleaned? I have a seven year-old shirt that I’ve kept perfectly white this way.

--An extra-dry neck also adds years to a solid white shirt: before dressing, swab your neck with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, to remove any oils the shower may have missed. It may seem like overkill, but in the summertime it can save your shirts. This little trick will visibly cut down your ring-around-the-collar, almost by half.

--Most of us shine our shoes with wax, but at least once a quarter you should give every pair you own a good going-over with shoe cream, to replace lost moisture. If you live in Italy, where the unpolished, cracked-shoe look is currently all the rage, I suppose you can disregard this.

--This one is more a question of aesthetics than maintenance: I recall a conversation I once had with one of the shoemakers at Edward Green; he was telling me that Londoners prefer more of a low-key shine than that preferred by most Americans (God-forbid a Londoner should do anything that looks American). I have found, however, that shoes actually need to be slightly ‘over-shined’ (an American shine). When you leave your house, you walk into an atmosphere as full of particles as the ocean is full of plankton, and this stuff slowly settles into a film on your shoes as the day wears on. An ‘American-style’ shine helps fight this a bit.

--This one’s so obvious I started not to include it, but shoes MUST have trees in them at all times. So what made me include it? Because I’m haunted by a guy I know who wears John Lobbs, but won’t use his trees (which, by the way, come gratis with every pair). The way his toes are curled up, he looks like a cookie-making Keebler elf, living in a tree somewhere. Or, at best, one of Robin Hood’s merry men.

There is a danger facing the young man who is breaking the bank to get his first pair of bench-made shoes: unless he is buying custom, or a ready-made pair that comes with trees, he may not want to kick the extra forty or fifty bucks to buy them. This is the false economy of all false economies. Used shoe trees can be found at vintage, discount, and second-hand stores for a few bucks, and the older and more beat-up they are, the better they look. My advice is to always be on the prowl for them, especially before you buy your first pair of expensive shoes.

--There is another danger facing the young man I just mentioned (and everyone else). Even diligent use of trees will not help your shoes if they aren’t properly rotated (given at least a twenty-four hour rest after wear). Good shoes are prized pets that must be pampered and taken care of, and even the best-made shoe in the world cannot stand up to day-to-day, back-to-back wear.

--Once or twice a year (depending on frequency of wear), turn out your trouser cuffs and brush them clean. No one will notice if you don’t, but the stuff that collects down there can be quite nasty.

--Speaking of cuffs, you’ll want to have the inside corner of your dress shoe heels shaved off, so as not to catch in your trouser cuffs. Some men consider this shoe sacrilege, I know, but I have found it not nearly so sacrilegious (or as anger-inducing) as a torn trouser cuff.

--Keep your dress hats in a closed box, away from atmospheric dust. Follow this simple precaution, and you may never have to have your hats cleaned.

--Fine-quality, sized dress socks—after more than a quarter century, I still don’t know what to tell you (And this from a major collector of the things, with close to seventy pairs that have yet to be worn). If I wash them carefully in cold water and Woolite, air dry them, the whole nine—they fall apart. If, however, I act like I don’t care—wear them hiking, doing yard work, toss them in with the regular wash & dry—they last forever. Go figure. Then come back and tell me.

Words by Barry Pullen

The Warm Chest

The vee of chest exposed by an overcoat is least protected part of the body to the winter's cold, and the fix for keeping it (and the neck that is found in close proximity) warm is of course to cover the exposed area with another layer of cloth. That layer, usually known as the scarf, is the most important form of neckwear for a man's health and well being as well as an important element of his appearance.

Good guidelines for scarves that complement the day's clothing in my opinion are to pair patterned scarves with solid overcoats or, in the absence of a coat, suits. Solid scarves easily complement patterned overcoats and patterned suits. The pattern or solid should be a different but complementary color.

Color and pattern aside, the choice of scarf material is an, ahem, material consideration. The reason why World War I fighter pilots wore those glamorous silk scarves was to keep their necks unchafed. Silk performs the same function still, as do cashmere and blends of angora and wool. Most plain wool is too harsh, and things like linen and cotton too lightweight for the cold.

New on the ASW store this week are fringed cashmere scarves in four solid secondary colors that will complement most ensembles. They join a dozen other silk, patterned cashmere and lambswool/angora blend scarves in multiple colorways for your consideration.

Man In Style, Installment XIII

I wrote about the relatively rare window or box pane patterned suit this past April, and thought it useful to show an example of the mid-weight windowpaned worsted at work, as it were, on the fine figure of Dr. André Churchwell. The good doctor's windowpanes (I know of at least two of them) are less conservative than my own, which with only one exception are so discreet as to be relatively unnoticeable. That discretion makes them useful in very conservative settings but the more noticeable versions are perfectly acceptable everywhere else, provided that the wearer does not mind drawing extra attention.

Churchwell's non-directional silk foulard necktie and solid shirt are the right type and amount of pattern for his check. Pink in particular is always a good mate with gray. Another choice could have been a shirt in the color of the check itself, which would serve to blend the elements together and draw an observer's eyes to his face. That would reduce the visual impact of the suit, which can be a useful technique from time to time.

Either way, the windowpane is a sign of a man in style.

Photo by Nicole Gagliano