Gabardine And Shantung

Those who love texture in their clothes appreciate how the rough texture of a silk Shantung necktie complements the smooth surface of a gabardine jacket. And though Shantung itself is richly colored, the sheen of a printed silk pocket square is quite complementary.

In the photograph, a dark red, cream and gold striped silk Shantung necktie, peach chambray shirt and a Rubinacci Domus Aurea silk pocket square. The best silk pocket squares have complex patterns with many colors so they can be displayed to different effect depending on their fold. Rubinacci’s silk squares are some of the best in the world in this regard, being beautifully printed in a variety of Neapolitan themes.

Are You A Knit Or A Woven Man?

Knitted underwear has been around since before 1900 and though I cannot find any information about them predating 1930, I assume woven boxer shorts are at least as old. The competition between the two is usually characterized as boxers vs. briefs but I don't know if that is actually as good a comparison as knit vs. woven.

The role of underwear was originally for warmth. These days it principally provides a relatively inexpensive barrier between ourselves and our much more expensive outerwear. The advantages of the knitted versions from my point of view are their absorbency and support. Woven on the other hand is roomier and available from one's favorite shirtmaker in any of a thousand shirtings (I am told that there are men who wear boxers that match their shirts every day but I do not believe I know any of them, nor am I going to try to find out). The boxer vs. briefs comparison blurs however when one considers that there are knitted boxers these days, and someone, somewhere has undoubtedly designed woven briefs.

The choice between the two being a religious issue, far be it for me to declare knitted or woven better than the other. I will say only that I grew up a knitted man, switched briefly to boxers when I was enamored with the idea of patterned stuff like the pair in the Apparel Arts illustration from 1933, and swung back to knitted after just a few years. There I have remained ever since.

Are you a knit or a woven man?

To Be Well Dressed

He lives on the 36th parallel, so André Churchwell's Nashville temperatures improve before those of most ASW readers. Last week found him enjoying an early spring and looking quite the boulevardier in his odd jacket, trousers and hat.

The thing I like best about this particular look is that it is really quite coordinated - both his shirt and his necktie complement one or another part of his jacket's pattern - without appearing as though he tried too hard. To be well dressed a man ideally looks as though he has spent no time choosing his clothes, even though the process may actually have required a considerable amount of time.

So Ready

It is still bitter here in California some of the time, but the temperature is definitely getting milder to the point that the light tweed topcoat that arrived this week may not get any wear before November. A ready to wear piece that Grenfell made up as a sample, I had planned to have it altered to fit and write about the result, but, happily, that particular project may be one whose time has already passed. At least until November. A long sleeved polo, quilted suede gilet, corduroy trousers, wool sport socks and Edward Green bluchers were just right for a walk by the sea.

Spring usually begins in mid-March here, but the very welcome warmer weather means I may be able to wear a gabardine suit again this week in order to take one of Rubinacci's silk Shantung neckties out for a spin. I expect that particular combination will be one of my go to looks for the coming season but it is definitely only a sunny afternoon combination in February. 420 gram flannel is much more practical after six o'clock.

One of the many nice things about the sunshine is that it brings out the optimism in us. April follows March of course, and that will be visiting season. Napolisumisura confirmed that the Minnis Rangoon cloth I sent them will be ready for fitting in April when Dino is in San Francisco, which means that the completed stuff should be available for pickup in Naples in June (as a man used to waiting a year or more for a suit, the Adamos threaten to spoil me). If Cleverley has finished my spectators by then I will be the guy walking along one Bay or another in an ecru summer-weight double breasted and black and white shoes. I am probably not alone in thinking that I am so ready for that.

I Will Fear No Winter

A recent spate of unusually cold weather throughout my recent travels reminded me that the virtues of the so-called teddy bear coat, like that pictured, are not limited simply to being able to make a ridiculous spectacle of yourself on today’s streets. Reassuringly heavy, massive and dense, it practically invites you to envelope yourself in a layer of warm, deep pile impervious to cold and wind.

Usually made out of alpaca pile, the teddy bear coat was a mainstay for the slightly dandified gentleman of the first half of the twentieth century. (I understand there’s a picture of Churchill in one, although I haven’t tracked it down.) Usually styled like a double-breasted belted greatcoat, it has the dash, heft and bygone eccentricity of something a character in an Edward Gorey cartoon would wear, perhaps the unwell-looking “obscure essayist named Frowst.” The “teddy bear” name was no doubt inspired by the plush softness of old teddy bears also made in alpaca pile. Paul Stuart, one of the last stores to retail this garment, instead gave it the more butch name of a “Bear Cat” coat, likely in evocation of open sports cars from the early 20th century like the Stutz Bearcat, which required the winter driver to wear warm, heavy coats like this one.

Mine is actually in llama, alpaca’s somewhat coarser cousin. The coat is still warm and relatively soft. I cast a broad net (to capture both animals) in my searches and found it vintage, by a long-defunct British manufacturer for an also-defunct American university shop, as back in the day coats like these, and raccoon coats, were all the rage to wear on a cold game day. One of the labels calls the material “Llamacuna,” an old attempt to persuade potential buyers that the cloth had something of the softness of vicuna even if it lacked it in content. I’ve seen similar attempts on old labels touting “Alpacuna” (100% alpaca) and the like, recalling how mid-range department stores used to sell scarves made of synthetic “cashmink” or “cashmaire” before junky Chinese-made cashmere flooded the market at prices and quality similar to acrylic. Despite all that, alpaca or llama pile have their own advantages and qualities, quite distinct from those of vicuna, which in any case is valued more for its rarity and novelty value than for any actual superiority over cashmere.

I haven’t had to use my coat very often: the last time was on a sortie between massive snowstorms a few years ago to restock supplies (more alcohol, steaks and Cat Power albums). I can’t get rid of it, though – nothing gets through it, and as the late style writer John Morgan noted of his own teddy bear coat, it feels like a security blanket, oversized in a metaphorical bear hug, almost (please don’t try this at home) bulletproof. Like our other personal security blankets, we may not need this often, but treasure it when we do.

Where to find your own? Paul Stuart hasn’t carried their version for the last several winters. I suspect it was made by Invertere, a once-famous British coatmaking firm which went through several quasi-Hindu cycles of corporate death and rebirth in recent decades. Whatever its current incarnation, it doesn’t seem to exist in the form it used to. The Savile Row designer Richard James features an alpaca teddy bear coat in his winter collections every year without fail. I’m not sure who makes it, but it’s a gorgeous garment. Otherwise, there are few alternatives new. I’m not aware that any cloth merchants would sell the right material to have one made bespoke, although I’ve never looked into it. Ben Silver and a few other shops are selling a cloth coat lined in alpaca pile for a more subtle look, but I prefer the original in all its outrageous glory.

It takes front to wear. People will think you’re wearing fur or call it your pimp coat. From personal experience, I can promise they’ll be secretly jealous and will confess as much given half a chance. The style is flattering on almost any man, a reason to go vintage. For even though you walk through the lobby of a fading former palace hotel recognizing a track from the High Llamas’ Hawaii into the cold and damp, you will fear no winter.

Words by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Introducing Popeline Super Oxford Shirting

Renowned for its lightness, breathability and subdued character, Carlo Riva shirting is the principal offering of the best Italian shirtmakers (including Kiton, Mimmo Siviglia and Anna Matuozzo) but very difficult to find in North America. Except at the ASW store.

Carlo Riva's 100% Cotton Superoxford shirting is probably the most refined cloth of its type in the world. The oxford cloth texture is visible, but the cloth itself is suitable for more formal occasions than conventional oxford, and looks perfectly appropriate after 6PM. Light blue or white.

Neckties Also Have Seasons

I took out a silk shantung necktie earlier this week, looked at it longingly, and put it back. It is simply the wrong time of year for shantung, in my opinion. For neckties also have seasons.

The usual necktie wardrobe begins with year-round ties in silk, just as the initial part of a tailored clothing wardrobe starts best with year-round stuff. But once one has acquired the basics in grenadine, silk knits, satins, foulards and a stripe or two, it becomes time to branch out into specialty ties for both warm and cold weather.

One way to think about seasonal neckties is that they should make up perhaps 40% of the tie wardrobe. In other words, out of a wardrobe of a hundred ties (that may sound like a lot to some but trust me, it isn't), sixty of them should be wearable year-round. About half of the rest would be cold weather ties, including ancient madder, cashmere and wool challis, and the other fraction warm weather things like silk shantungs and linens. And this is because seasonal ties are the best complements to seasonal tailored clothing.

If you think about it, worsted suitings tend to occupy the year-round part of the clothing spectrum, and worsteds are well mated with silk neckties which is why the combination is so prevalent. But as soon as a man expands into tweeds and linens he finds that the texture of a shantung complements the smoothness of a silk jacket (like the combination in the photograph) just as the weight of cashmere pairs well with flannel. This is not to limit seasonal neckties to seasonal suits; indeed, one of my personal favorites is the combination of a cashmere tie and a worsted jacket. But just as cold weather ties are at their best in the gray, summer ties have a place in the sun. And fortunately, the sun will soon be upon us.

Stay On Her Good Side

I spent 24 hours in Las Vegas over the President's Day holiday, staying at the Mandarin Oriental which may be the only hotel on the Strip that does not have a casino. Indeed, I was convinced that it is also the only establishment of its type that does not have a restaurant until the concierge told me that the dining room was closed Sundays and Mondays. In a hotel. Who would have guessed? Fortunately they still had room service.

I had not stayed at the Mandarin before but the MRket menswear show was in town as part of the Magic galaxy of somewhat related other shows that it travels with. MRket is not very large but the other shows must be as the rates at the Four Seasons were completely unaffordable unless one was a high roller from some tax advantaged place which California certainly is not (that said, I did manage to walk away from the tables $200 ahead, which almost covered the cost of transportation to and from the airports).

My business was done fairly quickly, and that gave me time to observe that Las Vegas, or Vegas! as it is apparently known, has one of the world's more interesting dress codes. A walk through any of the major casinos passes by hundreds of relatively attractive young women in heels and cocktail dresses and 99% of them seem to be escorted by males in sneakers and ratty pants with shirts worn untucked. It strikes me that the women must approve of this as all it takes to get the normal male to dress better is a simple "Wear some decent clothes or get a separate room tonight."

After all, life is so much better when one stays on her good side.

I Contradict Myself Sometimes

Despite advising against blue shirts and gray jackets recently, I do wear them. I do not wear them often, but when I do combine the two the gray is always a lighter shade. It is charcoal that is really the problem with blue.

The ever so slightly overchecked gray flannel suit is worn with a very old blue and white checked shirt, a navy oxford weave tie and one of 35 new Rubinacci silk pocket square designs that will be on the ASW store beginning next week.

Yes, sometimes I do contradict myself.

A Few Words About Bling

I have to admit that I do not see the attraction that some men find in all the bling that is worn by the "dressing to have my photo taken at Pitti Uomo" set these days. I saw one clothing writer comment recently that he was finally convinced that he was wearing too many bracelets so he reduced those to two and began wearing more rings to compensate.

Personally, I think the Prince of Wales has it about right when he is out of uniform during the day. A signet or wedding ring, cufflinks, an optional wristwatch and gold blazer buttons once in a while. I also think it acceptable to add a gold pin worn in the collar or through a keeperless knit tie but that and a dress set for black tie is all the jewelry that comes to mind. And the latter of course is beyond the scope of this conversation.

The most basic bling does not need to be particularly costly. A simple pair of gold cufflinks is about the price of a good necktie on eBay or through similar sources (I acquired the Trianon links in the photo from RJ for a great price and given the amount of stuff that he seems to have up for sale at any given time, you may be able to do the same). The cell phone has rendered the watch essentially unnecessary, and wedding rings are either a package deal with the wedding or not (since it is also worn on the left hand, the signet ring should only be seen on men who do not wear a marriage band).

Men who wear button cuffs can dispense with bling altogether, but I wish more of us would wear cufflinks. Those basic gold links are great looking and low maintenance since they do not tarnish. I see no reason why a cufflink man should settle for sterling silver unless it is a second or third set coated with enamel. After all, the money saved on one of those ultrasonic jewelry cleaning machines will make up much of the difference between a pair of sterling links and gold, and in times of need you can always have the gold melted down and recover enough of the value to pay for a good lunch. That is not an option with sterling silver.

And those are my thoughts on bling.

The Other Gray Trousers

Like most men, I depend too much on mid-gray odd trousers. Cream and tan linen see the light in summer, of course, and brown covert twill and olive flannel meet the cold in winter, but it is my mid-gray trousers in flannel and fresco that I reach for repeatedly. The reasons for this are simple. I am constitutionally and irrevocably vain, a quality I loathe vehemently. Getting dressed quickly is a compromise necessary to my mental health, and as mid-gray trousers go with everything, they remains something I needn’t fret over when I get dressed. Now, for a number of men wearing one of anything all the time is commensurate with wearing a uniform, but I find it difficult to argue that men everywhere aren’t wearing uniforms of one sort or another anyway (whether that man takes care to make the back blade of his knit tie three inches longer than the front or not) and so I wear mid-grey most of the time without those reservations. The only real problem I have with wearing mid-gray trousers too often is that many of my other odd trousers go unworn, none more so than those that are dark gray.

Though it is considered as versatile as mid-gray, I’ve never found much use for dark gray trousers, in part because it only rarely seems a stylish choice. When paired with navy, there is too little contrast. Paired with other grays, the effects can be a bit dated, at least for me, as whenever I try the combination I can’t seem to discard the comfort-shattering thought that I look like a boy borrowing his father’s clothes to go the junior dance in 1957. This last is only a matter of opinion, certainly. I’ve nothing resembling a good reason to think the combination is dated (except that few men do it now), but as a quick perusal of the clothing forums and blogs suggests, pairing two grays is not so easily executed. The question, then, is if a color can’t be paired easily with navy or gray, how useful can it be?

Alas, several pairs of dark gray tousers languish in my closet, and I’ve found that unless I force myself to wear such items, they occupy space for years before they become either a part of my daily wardrobe or a tax deduction. As my storage space is inadequate (wife, children, European apartment), hastening an article’s speed toward one or the other improves matters some (and allows me to buy something else). More importantly, though, such little trials help me refine my style, perhaps quicker than I might otherwise. In this case, I found more than a few reasons to keep my dark gray trousers around.

The simplest way to wear dark gray is to pair it with colors that seem enlivened next to it. A first choice here is tan, in a fairly broad array of shades, including camel, for which dark gray trousers are a perfect foil. A second choice is olive, also in many shades, though the lightest are best avoided. Mid and light blue jackets might be another suitable choice, as some men wear them with dark gray trousers to great effect, but I find other trousers usually prove more elegant with these blues.

Another easy way to wear dark gray trousers is with a jacket that has some dark gray or black in it, like the one Will is wearing in the photograph. In warmer months, try a tan and black checked silk and linen odd jacket with charcoal fresco trousers. In cooler months, a mid or dark brown herringbone tweed where half the scales are black can help blend top and bottom.

One can also make good use of charcoal trousers by wearing them casually. A heathered purple cashmere rollneck with charcoal gabardine will suit a lot of men, as will a lovat green shirt-jacket with charcoal flannel. Dark gray trousers may even replace dark denim on occasion, particularly if they are slim in the leg (though not if one plans to wear a t-shirt). Try a long-sleeved cotton polo in tan with charcoal tropicals.

These suggestions are just a start, but like many matters sartorial one learns what works through trial and error. So if your dark gray trousers are collecting dust, brush them off and wear them. You may discover you have use for them after all.

Words by Anthony Eleftherion

Lifestyle: Chateau Beychevelle

With its magisterial lines and splendid gardens, Chateau Beychevelle is one of Bordeaux’s most beautiful properties. Its creation and history is layered with great families and illustrious individuals. It began in the Middle Ages when Bishop de Foix-Candale built the initial chateau in what is now the St. Julien appellation (and the Foix-Candale family also owned Chateau d’Issan in neighboring Margaux). The Duke d’Epernon, Jean-Louis de Nogaret de la Valette assumed ownership when he married Marquerite de Foix-Candale. He was also the Governor of Guyenne and an admiral of the French navy. The latter rank gave rise to the story that boats sailing on the Gironde River lowered their sails in respect when they passed the chateau. This action, “baisse voile” in French, gave rise to the chateau’s name, Beychevelle. True? Who knows? But colorful it is.

In the 18th century, the Marquis Francois-Etienne de Brassier modified the existing building and added his own portion, creating Chateau Beychevelle as we know it. Marquis Brassier is also credited with designing the stunning gardens and upgrading the vineyards. As the centuries past, ownership changed hands multiple times to members of parliament, ship owners, wine brokers, and merchant families. Eventually, Beychevelle became the property of the affluent and privileged Achille Fould family, whose ancestor, Achille Fould was the French finance minister four times during the presidency of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte (who coronated himself Napoleon III). Three generations of the Achille Fould family carried Beychevelle into the 20th century. In the mid-1980s, it was bought by the French Civil Servants’ Pension Fund, who, in 1989, sold 40 percent to Suntory, the Japanese conglomerate that purchased nearby Chateau Lagrange in 1983. It should come as no surprise that this merry-go-round of ownership caused quality to suffer. In the antiquated Bordeaux classification of 1855, Beychevelle was listed as a Fourth Growth (the ranking is First to Fifth). I began drinking Beychevelle with its 1970 vintage and collecting it from 1978. I can attest that rarely did it exceed its ranking. But that was then.

Suntory’s ownership brought money and commitment. Just as it has upgraded Chateau Lagrange (a Third Growth and also in St. Julien), Suntory has raised the level of Chateau Beychevelle. In January, I brought my memory and experience of collecting Chateau Beychevelle to a vertical tasting of nine vintages spanning a quarter-century. We started with the 1986 and ended at 2010. The tasting was held at the monthly meeting of the New York-based Wine Media Guild, of which I am a member, and the wines were from Chateau Beychevelle’s cellar.

Bordeaux is divided by the Gironde River into two sections known as the Left Bank and Right Bank. In 1986, Bordeaux had ideal weather on the Left Bank (where St. Julien lies) and very good weather on the Right Bank, the home of St. Emilion and Pomerol. Nearly every wine I have had from 1986 has been balanced in its fruit and tannins, and very age-able. The 1986 Beychevelle retains that structure; it’s pleasantly aromatic and elegant on the palate. Properly cellared, it has another 5 to 10 years of life. During 2011-2012, this wine appeared in 29 auctions; it sold at a very reasonable average of $100 bottle. But be sure of its provenance before bidding.

The 1990s were not particularly generous years for Bordeaux. In the Medoc (the Left Bank), only 1990 and 1995 were outstanding vintages. At our tasting, Beychevelle presented its 1996 (a good year) and 1999 (an average vintage). Both wines offered black fruit and coffee-like aromas and black fruit flavors. The 1996 has more body than its younger sibling, and both are pleasant wines and will be healthy for another decade. Both vintages are appearing in the auction market; the 1996 fetches about $100, the 1999 gathers $80. If you found a bottle of either wine in a retail store, I would be very cautious about purchasing. The auction market gives you a better chance that the wine has been stored in a temperature-controlled cellar.

For this article, I opened a bottle from my cellar of the 1995 Ch. Beychevelle. Its youthful purplish-red color and fragrant fruit is intact. The wine has more body and firm structure (relationship of fruit to tannins and acidity) than the 1996 and 1999. It is very elegant, and has another 15 years or more of aging potential. In 2012, I could not find any auctions of the 1995; and only six auctions in 2011. Of those, four were in London where the average price was $105; the two in America generated a bargain price of $75.

In this Millennium, we tasted six vintages.I divide them into four groups:

-The outstanding vintages: 2000, 2005 and 2010.

-The Hedonistic vintage: 2009

-The Underappreciated vintage: 2008

-The Odd vintage: 2003

One could boil 2003 down to a single word: boiling. The summer and harvest took place in torrid heat. It was the year when thousands of people died in France as well as in Italy, Spain, Portugal and other European countries from the unrelenting heat. Winemakers told stories of grapes exploding on the vines. I was in the Loire Valley in July 2003 and witnessed entire rows of vines without grapes on the side exposed to the most sun.

I have yet to taste a 2003 wine from anywhere in France or Italy that is not odd. Beychevelle is no exception. Its 2003 emitted herbal and black raisin aromas and flavors. The tannins are not balanced and the wine is completely different from all the others in this tasting. It is available in both the retail and auction markets at about $75. I suggest buying it only for its ability to teach you what excessive heat can do to a wine.

With Bordeaux, smart buying often arrives packaged in a vintage before or after an acclaimed one. For 2008, it is stuck behind two highly praised years: 2009 and 2010. Like many chateaux, Beychevelle made a respectable wine in 2008. Its medium-body carries pleasing blackberry aroma and flavor; and the soft tannins create a corduroy-like texture. The 2008 Beychevelle is a good example of how Suntory’s commitment has raised the level of this chateau. It is easy to succeed in vintages like 2009 and 2010, but more weather-challenged years mean the chateau has to select only its best grapes and limit its volume. Quality has to rule quantity. The retail price for the 2008 Chateau Beychevelle hovers around $80-85.

The ripe, luscious 2009 vintage is the definition of immediate gratification. From May 24th to 28th 2010, I traveled throughout Bordeaux tasting more than 300 hundred wines from the 2009 vintage. It was an expedition in pleasure. Nearly every wine was bursting with ripe fruit flavors, velvety tannins, and a message that said, “drink me, don’t taste me”.

About my visit to Beychevelle, my notebook says, “2009 wine is filled with ripe blackberry and black cherry flavors with a tantalizing minty accent. It is perfectly balanced and merits an excellent rating. The chateau’s second wine is Amiral de Beychevelle and shares the harmonious structure, with a full mouth feel and deep black cherry flavor. Very good.”

That observation was reconfirmed last month. Today, the 2009 Chateau Beychevelle is as seductive as ever. Its deliciously ripe blackberry and mulberry aromas and flavors sheath your senses. As well-made as this one is, I seriously doubt many owners will allow their bottles to rest in the cellar; 2009 is for hedonists.

Bordeaux has produced three great vintages in the recent past: 2000, 2005 and 2010. They are wines to own and years to prize. Chateau Beychevelle is proudly represented in each. Palate preferences will rank these vintages in various orders; my palate places the 2005 first, followed by 2000 and 2010.

In 2005, Chateau Beychevelle’s significant black fruit aromas and flavors are built on a medium body with firm tannins. This wine is the most structured Beychevelle I have ever tasted. It has the proportions of a middle weight boxer with perfect muscle tone. I suggest opening a bottle at its 10th-year, enjoying a few at its 15th-year, and cellaring enough to enjoy over 25 to 30 years. As for the wine’s life span? Cellared perfectly, you could leave a few bottles for your grandchildren’s enjoyment.

Other will list the 2000 Beychevelle as their favorite vintage. I wouldn’t quibble about that. It is extraordinarily harmonious. Last month, my bottle offered coffee, leather and black fruit scents and flavors. It was seamless on the palate and magnetic to my hand. I reached for it often to inhale its aromas and enjoy its elegant flavors and texture. You can enjoy the 2000 Beychevelle best after aerating it in a decanter. It will certainly continue its evolution for another two decades.

The young 2010 Chateau Beychevelle has the classic structure of Bordeaux: medium-body, supporting tannins, mild acidity, and ripe, black fruit aromas and flavors. Where 2009 Beychevelle is for the hedonist; 2010 Beychevelle is for the purist. This wine is a Bordeaux drinker’s Bordeaux.

The 2000 and 2005 Beychevelles are appearing in the auction market at about $100 and 80 dollars, respectively. At retail, the 2000 ranges from $150 to 180; and the 2005 from $125-175. If you buy these from retailers, make sure these wines have been stored properly. You don’t want wines that were sitting for years on retailers’ room-temperature shelves and being jarred by the public and store clerks. The younger 2009 and 2010 Beychevelles are retailing for about $100-120 dollars.

As I reflect on 35 years of drinking and collecting and visiting Chateau Beychevelle, it is abundantly clear that since Suntory’s involvement Beychevelle and its wines have never been more beautiful. One day, the Bordelaise will revise the outdated 1855 classification and when this coup d’état occurs, Chateau Beychevelle will rise to at least a Third Growth. In the meantime, adding these vintages to your cellar will bring you years and decades of pleasure.

Words and photo by John Foy

Black And Blue

The navy blue Churchill spot may well be more popular than every other bow tie added together, which is probably because it complements most of the classic suitings, whether navy blue, tan or medium gray as well as blazers and many other odd jackets. Those men who wear the bow, including doctors, architects and other professionals who are bending over into their work constantly as well as dandies seeking a change of pace, should own the Churchill in a couple of shapes. And the ASW store has three of them in a rich Mogador silk.

Hardly earth-shattering but I have also added a black satin version to the Evening Necktie, and a midnight blue to my silk knits. Having one of each color means a man can wear either gray or blue jackets stylishly. And that is how it should be.

Hopsack, Voile and Linen

Mytailor delivered a couple of CMT white shirts made from the Simonnot-Godard voile a week ago, and I thought it would be interesting to combine three somewhat breathable materials on a sunny day and a cool evening. In the photo is one of the shirts, a Simonnot-Godard corded linen handkerchief, a hopsack suit and a not breathable at all silk necktie.

This ensemble is best suited for conservative daytime wear, though from a propriety standpoint it can be worn into evening without concern as it was on this occasion. My initial worry that the combination would prove too airy for the weather proved unfounded and I remained comfortable across temperatures that ranged from 40 degrees F to the low 60s (4 degrees C to 16). Twenty degrees is the usual breadth of comfortable wear for tailored clothing and this was no exception.

The experiment was a success.

His Penchant For Satin

Winston Churchill was my idol as a young man but a close second was the jet setting Porfirio Rubirosa who among his many accomplishments married Odile Rodin, the French actress who became his fifth wife, nearly fifty years ago when she was 19 and he 45. Rubirosa's considerable attractiveness to women was based on a variety of things, but among them was surely his penchant for satin neckties in the evening.

Satin of course has a sheen to it that helps it shine at night, which is why it is commonly used for dinner jacket lapels and matching bow ties. When on the other hand a four in hand evening necktie will accompany a lounge suit or blazer, I like midnight blue satin with a navy jacket, and black with a charcoal or black one. Accompany either with a silk pocket square. The sheen of the satin is different enough from conventional printed silk that the two materials complement each other.

Splitting Hairs

More than a decade ago I ended my exclusive reliance on the 10 ounce/300 gram cloth that my tailors had me in for much of my life in California. Spurred by arguments that heavier, 15 or 16 ounce (450-480 grams) cloth hangs better (it does), wrinkles less (absolutely), wears warmer (so true) and is perfectly comfortable in heated rooms (ahem), I built a winter wardrobe in tweed and flannel. And this year I have realized that I rarely wear said clothing unless I am travelling to a place with an actual winter, an activity I strive to avoid. For though it is fine on days when peak temperatures are below 55 degrees (13 C), in 65 degree sunshine I find heavy cloth uncomfortable, preferring to wear something mid-weight. The trouble is that on too many days my ten ounce mid-weight cloth is not warm enough.

This is probably akin to splitting hairs, but for 2013 I am resolved to add a suit or two in a weight closer to 13 ounces/400 grams than ten ounces. And for wear away from the city I am drawn to a worsted tweed like the swatches in the photo.

There are two principal sources of mid-weight worsted posing as tweed, the one being John Hardy's 12 ounce/360 gram Worsted Alsport in the photo and the other Porter & Harding's 11 ounce/330 gram Glorious Twelfth. Of the two, I like the Worsted Alsport for myself (the company's website photography does not begin to do it justice) as it is a bit heavier and the designs are distinctly tweedier to my eye.

I think I will try the green pinhead with an orange overcheck to the upper left of the photo for fall.

Lifestyle: How To Eat Caviar

The trouble with caviar, men’s style cliché James Bond once observed, is there’s never enough toast served with it. While we can’t solve that problem, we can definitely address the minor conundrum of what overdesigned utensil to eat it with.

In this age of the lowest common denominator, there still exist ways to make your pleasures individual but not solitary. Pictured are not reindeer antlers but oxhorn caviar spoons by the centuries-old English maker Abbeyhorn, hand-carved with a slightly morbid flair in the shape of sturgeons, the fish generally celebrated as the source of the finest caviar.

Those of us who tend to rationalize our fetishes can even find multiple justifications for using these spoons. I am informed that metal spoons are disfavored for serving or eating caviar as they supposedly impart a metal tang to the taste. Mother-of-pearl or horn is a preferable alternative (of course, I have heard that a plastic picnic spoon works fine but what might be the point?). Horn is useful and beautiful, and unlike tortoiseshell, another form of keratin which it can resemble, comes from non-threatened species, generally as a byproduct of the food industry. It also happens to be relatively reasonable for a luxury material, which is why Abbeyhorn’s catalog (a selection of which is carried in the ASW store), is such a temptation for whimsical impulse purchases such as these, or horn collar stays, clothing brushes, combs, shoehorns, and much else.

In a further nod to utility, each spoon of the pair pictured is carved in a different direction, catering for both right-and left-handed epicureans, his and hers… or for those gourmands who engage in double-fisting. And they work just as well with American paddlefish caviar as with Beluga from the Caspian. Or, more appropriately to this economy, with Wonkette brand hobo beans. But whether St. Valentine's Day finds you sharing a moment with a dear one, celebrating in Saturnalian throngs or simply contemplating the past in Lucullan luxe and solitude, may it anticipate a better love life to come.

Words and photo by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Bored With Winter?

Bored with winter? Freshen your look with an example from our mid-winter shipment of scarves. Choose from hand fringed navy madder paisley, either of two pin fringed madders in a mid-blue paisley and a bordeaux with dark green paisley or a navy wool challis printed with ducks. Accompany your scarf with a pair of our driving gloves, or newly restocked carpincho or gray suede dress gloves.

Be bored no more.

I Don't Always Drink Beer

The sun was shining the other day and a representative had sent along a six pack of Bohemia Clásica from the Cuauhtémoc Moctezuma Brewery (the same establishment that brews Dos Equis) in Mexico. And since the time to drink beer is when the sun is shining, we did.

Bohemia beer is a full bodied lager that may be the best of the widely distributed Mexican brands. It was paired with a taupe gabardine suit, brown Garza Fina grenadine necktie, a striped shirt in some unclassifiable shade of red, an old Holland and Holland pocket square printed with pheasants and chestnut Edward Greens.

I don't always drink beer but when I do, I don't always drink Dos Equis.

Toe Taps

Some men wear their shoes out from the heel forward. I wear mine from the toe back.

I was reminded of this the other day when I wore a pair of quarter brogues with metal toe taps, those being a phase that I went through some years ago. Toe taps of course are man's reinforcement of leather toes to slow down the wear, and they do that task effectively. Particularly since toe wear happens to the sole of the shoe, and soles are far more expensive to replace than heels. The downside of the tap however is that they do not get along with wood floors particularly well, and in disagreements between the two the floors are a consistent loser.

Now you might expect that toe taps would be somewhat objectionable because they are noisy and indeed, their heel plate relations are definitely noticeable. Toe taps however are relatively discreet. Most men land on their heels as they take a step, and by the time the toe makes contact with the ground there is no abruptness that might cause a sound.

Proper toe taps are not cheap of course, but then nothing is. They need to be set into the sole to create a level surface and that is a task best done when the shoes are made, which makes them relatively easy to come by on made to order and bespoke shoes, and more difficult but hardly impossible on ready to wear. And they double the life of a sole in my experience, which makes them a bargain.

Unless a man has wooden floors.

Photo by John Park for G. J. Cleverley

The Well Travelled Suit

I sent a couple lengths of vintage cloth from J & J Minnis off to my tailor in Naples the other day, and for some reason found myself thinking about the startling distance a bespoke garment can travel between the back of the sheep and the back of the wearer today.

This particular journey began somewhere in the mountains of New Zealand, which is home to esentially all the merino sheep that contribute their wool to the cause. Their shearings travelled about 11,500 miles from Wellington to Yorkshire in the North of England where they were processed and woven. My cloth was made originally for a man in Hong Kong, and so the second stage of the journey involved a distance of about 6,000 miles from England, and it then wended its way a further 7,000 miles to me. I in turn sent the stuff 6,300 miles to Naples to be made up, which will involve another trip to San Francisco for fitting, another visit to Naples for adjustments and a return trip for the finished garment. By my count, the total distance to be travelled is roughly 50,000 miles (more than 80,000 kilometers) or two equatorial circumnavigations of the planet. And we sometimes wonder why suits are as expensive as they are.

None of this would be very practical of course without the jet airplane and plenty of kerosene. A century ago, most suits were tailored using wool from local sheep like the Cheviot that is native to the Scottish borders. If international air travel is ever curtailed due to its affect on the atmosphere that time may come again. Of course said curtailment might also mean that the trip to a man's tailor could involve several weeks for a transcontinental train trip, a liner across the Atlantic and an equally long return. That would definitely put a damper on the whole business.

Maintenance: Cleaning Gloves

Collectors of obscure books on clothing (yes RJ, I am thinking of you) may wish to consider Franco Biancacci's L'ABITO DELLE MANI viaggio nel mondo della guanteris in forma di racconto which translates loosely into English as GLOVED HANDS a journey into glove making should you be able to locate a copy. A multilingual book with 86 pages in Italian and a condensed 21 page section in English, amidst its advice it offers the only recommendations for cleaning gloves that I have ever seen (assuming, that is, that your grocer can recommend a suitable detergent). I quote:

1: first of all, you can not use any detergent; it is a product that removes stains and cleans thoroughly but in a very delicate way, ask the grocer.

2: in a bowl put one or two liters of warm water and add two cupfuls of detergent and a tablespoon of vinegar useful to fix the color. Dip now the gloves in water, however taking care not to put together light and dark gloves. Once this is done, leave to soak for half an hour without touching them.

3: at this point, wear gloves and wipe the hands as if you were washing them. Now remove the gloves and rinse thoroughly under warm running water.

4: dry gloves; wrapping them in a towel (maybe old, as they will release some color) and then expose them to the air, keeping them away from sources of heat and direct sunlight.

5: before they are completely dry, insert them gently; they will resume the original shape.

6: and if you could not be able in making back brand new your gloves, well, don't worry, you can always choose new ones among the countless, beautiful products of the best Italian craftsmanship.

Blue Shirts

Every men's wardrobe sees changes. One kind of thing loses popularity, and another surges. Take for example, my current infatuation with light blue shirts, which seem to be most of what I wear during the day currently. I wear them with brown, I wear them with tan, and I wear them with blue. Rarely gray though. I don't like the combination of gray and blue nearly so much as I like gray and tan, or gray and maroon, or gray and pink. Even gray and white, but I was writing about blue.

I was wearing just about anything in the way of shirts except blue until this past year, and when I did wear blue it was usually white collared and cuffed. One day I was thinking that those white collar shirts were a bit too flash for the occasion, and when I looked for a plain blue I could not find one.

Blue shirts come in every variety under the sun of course, from linen and voile for summer, chambray and end on end for year-round wear, and oxford and twill for winter just to name a few. I like them best with neckties that have navy grounds, and those are probably all a man needs in his wardrobe anyway beyond a black knit and a black grenadine to wear with the aforementioned gray jackets. But though I had plenty of navy neckties, I had let my blue shirts wear out.

That shortage of blue is remedied now, and I have enough non-flashy versions to wear with the flashier of my suits. A man needs at least half a dozen if he sends his shirts out, and ten or twelve is a better number if he also travels as weeklong trips can mean three weeks pass before he sees a shirt that he has sent to be laundered. Or when, as happened to me, the better half tells the laundry service not to ring the bell in the morning and effectively stops them from picking up for a couple of weeks.

At any rate, I am in the midst of my obsession with blue, as illustrated by the blue chambray in the photo. A few hours later the same shirt and a different necktie accompanied a blue blazer to cocktails. For I am currently infatuated with blue.

No It’s Not Like Any Other Glove…

This one is different because it’s kid. An obsessive tale of my own Rosebud, not a child’s sled or (IRL spoiler alert) Marion Davies’, uh, sacred ladybutton, but cashmere-lined sized hand-stitched gloves in the finest, most meltingly soft kid leather.

There are certain things Hermès was justifiably renowned for. I used to work with a French count. He didn’t use his title, but he liked to wear purple socks from papal tailor Gammarelli and red socks which he once admitted to buying from Hermès. I can’t imagine what value Hermès adds to sockmaking, but in gloves, as in other leathergoods, it had – has – few equals, both in quality of materials and quality of workmanship.

It was twenty years ago and my first visit to the Hermès flagship that led me to what, before loss, was a Platonic ideal not of gloves but of luxury itself: simply black leather gloves from an endless selection, perfectly sized to fit my hand, silkily soft and lined in dense cashmere. With the coyness that accompanies the fait accompli of an inner decision to purchase I asked, but will they last? “Of course,” came the answer, “c’est du chevreau.” They’re kid. I did not know then how rare it was to have each of these different elements realized to perfection… until years later an evening in New York swallowed them up and they went, presumably, to that limbo where even our most materialistic dreams and illusions retire. Or the glove compartment of some cabbie.

As with other possessions I’ve fetishized about in this space, my gloves represented more than just the physical sum of their parts – and in fact were the first item to lead me down the seductive path of my search for the meaning of beautiful things. My search to replace them (with, finally, the gloves pictured above from Lavabre-Cadet via Aubercy) brought home the following ideas, relevant to nice gloves and perhaps more broadly to nice clothing as well.

The myth of fungibility. There’s a popular idea on the internet, and likely in real life, that whatever some specialist maker or brand charges a lot of money for can be made far more cheaply by someone else. This presumes that the same materials are available to just about anyone, and that the same level of workmanship can be found in easily discoverable cheaper makers. In point of fact, though, that’s not always the case. Most makers don’t use kid, instead using lambskin or nappa calf, which are soft but not as luxuriously soft as good kid. This was the case with Causse, Dent’s, and a host of others. I had resolved to find sized gloves hand-stitched in kid leather of the same quality as those I had lost, lined in cashmere. As such, the gloves I sought differed from those created by the excellent Merola of Rome, which makes the elegant gloves in the ASW store as well as a faaabulous silk-lined pair in mauve nappa leather that I bought from Marc Guyot in Paris. The genial Alberto Merola regretfully informed me that his company preferred not to work in kid. However, as I also learned, nor is all kidskin equal. Sermoneta of Rome sold me kidskin gloves whose leather was almost as mediocre as their stitching. Madova of Florence was much better and excellent value, but not quite as fine as my lost French original. And I learned that the French don’t all carry good kidskin when I saw the crumply kid numbers from Maison Fabre and forgettable machine-stitched versions at Gants Muriel, one of two historic glove shops in Paris (the other being Hélion, which didn’t carry kid gloves for men). Unlike suiting fabrics, which have a number of top suppliers happy to furnish any good tailor with their wares, the quality of leather I sought was not readily available.

Size matters, but bespoke doesn’t. I tried a few of the custom glovers offering to make gloves to one’s specifications and measurements (often accompanied by a hand tracing) and found that – as can be the case in other bespoke clothing there’s far more that can go wrong in fitting than with a properly sized stock garment. Chester Jefferies in England were wonderfully flexible, reasonable and easy to deal with but made me two pairs of capeskin gloves from the same measurements that varied wildly in fit. (They made an excellent pair to order in my stock size in carpincho and Persian lamb that will be the subject of another piece.) The worst experience of my quest, however, came at the ersatz French custom shirtmakers Liste Rouge, which has been trying to expand into other custom clothing and took a series of measurements for an obnoxious price after promising they could make me gloves in kid and delivered a pair in passably soft leather with one extremely long thumb. They remade the pair but it never quite felt right. Instead, unless you have extremely strangely proportioned hands, it’s best to get gloves that are made to your size, rather than your specific measurements. To get this size, which should be in wholes and halves like a shoe size (without the width), measure around the widest part of your hand (more or less the area of the knuckles below the fingers) in inches. That’s your glove size. Subtract half an inch for a very snug fit. In this case, a stock size has the advantage of being proportioned for a hand with that measurement, rather than requiring a pattern to be mocked up based on a lot of precise measurements with lots that can go wrong. This is sometimes a good reason to get ready-to-wear shoes rather than bespoke, by the way.

You can’t go home again. In moments of weakness I braved the crowds on Madison Avenue and Faubourg St-Honoré only to discover that Hermès no longer sold kidskin gloves. On one visit they told me that they “weren’t doing kid this season.” I didn’t realize that glove leather changed from fashion season to season, or that Hermès viewed gloves as a fashion accessory. True to its heritage, Hermès maintains its own glovemaking facility in Saint-Junien, one of the French towns historically famous for glovemaking (the others are Millau and Niort, towns also historically associated with perfumemaking, no accident). While Hermès’ glovers do sell a limited amount of production directly to the public, they informed me that they, too, were unable to make me a pair in kid. Most of the other French glovemakers associated with that area, who include Agnelle, Georges Morand and Maison Fabre, are embattled by far cheaper products from other countries, from Italy to Vietnam and China. It’s rumored some have moved production elsewhere while maintaining a historic French name. Which is why I was surprised after years of searching to discover Mary Beyer’s glovemaking firm Lavabre Cadet, still proudly made in France and offering a rainbow of colors in the finest French kidskin as well as in a variety of other fanciful leathers, including alligator. At the time, Lavabre-Cadet sold made to order through a few places in Paris, including the French shoe shop Aubercy, which also sells custom leathergoods. I used Aubercy as, unlike many French Internet Gentlemen, I got along with the formidable Madame Aubercy and could use the excuse to visit the nostalgic chocolatiers Debauve et Gallais (by appointment to the Bourbons) across the street. Now Lavabre-Cadet has its own shop in the Palais-Royal. While the gloves were custom-ordered and could, I suppose, have been made to measure, they took a tracing of my hand and made them to the corresponding stock size, which was fine with me. The result was marvelous, the gloves as unbelievably, luxuriantly soft as those I had lost, the handstitching neat and close. A paradise regained? Perhaps, in whisky, black and twice over in buff. Were I to quibble, I suppose the cashmere lining, while excellent, is not quite as dense as I remember it being on my lost Hermès. But then again, if we could revisit the idealized lost, we would no longer have paradises to visit. And you certainly cannot buy your way back, which is one reason I didn’t immediately go to Hermès after losing my first pair. Then again, this brings me to the last, not least, realization.

You can never rule out loss. For something about which it’s possible to feel so deeply, gloves are so easily lost, making the ending of the song I misquote in my title so apt:

Hand in glove I stake my claim, I’ll fight to the last breath… For the good life is out there somewhere, so stay on my arm you little charmer. But I know my love too well… and I’ll probably never see you again.

Words and photo by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

Just In Time For Valentine's

The ASW store is launching a new category this week called Gifts For Her. Intended to be a small but tasty assortment of luxury gifts for the woman or women in your life, Gifts for Women will not really come into its own until this autumn, however we do have five new L’Artisan Parfumeur fragrances on hand just in time for Valentine’s day. Each of them is rated four stars by perfume critic Luca Turin, which places them among the best of their kind, and each is certain to please.

The Perfect Shade Of Wine Necktie

I had been searching for the perfect solid wine necktie for a while, and when I saw a dark red swatch in the Drake's London fall 2012 collection I knew I had found it. Unfortunately, when our fall order arrived there were only two of that colorway in the shipment and we assumed there had not been enough silk for the entire order. It is not worth photographing only two ties for the store, so I took one home and gave the other as a gift.

Sadly, I wore that necktie exactly one time, managing to ruin it with a spot of grease. I was resigned never to see such perfection again, but this past week we got a box of neckties from Drake's and it turned out to hold the missing portion of that order from a year ago. Lined three fold, self tipped, and the silk is what Drake's calls a Super Repp.

I took another home for myself. The color is perfect with a blue jacket.