Penny-Farthing for a 3-Piece

An entirely great pocket square found its way to my wardrobe recently.  A giant high-wheel, with spokes bedecked in similar vehicles is bordered by an armada of Victorian-bustled ladies and variously-trousered and hatted fops.

They are all beautifully dressed for the period, and they race around the silk, happily mounted on their inner-thigh-abrasion-inducing velocipedes.

A penny farthing deserved a bit more than a regular office suit, so a flannel green three-piece with subtle blue stripes was called up.  Purple gingham-checked (TM Lewin) shirt and a multi-spotted tie (Lands End), and some striped socks ($1.75) just to belabor the point.

The three-piece suit has fallen largely out of use, even in the conservatively-clothed worlds of banking, curating, and lawyerin'.  I think that many are actually scared of it, because it adds a literal and figurative layer of formality.  They were once a stated requirement, and meant that you were a young executive ready to "yes" your way to the top in exchange for never seeing your wife and children.

Now, they are statistically rare, and largely out of fashion.  Most are allergic to appearing as one who thinks about these sorts of things.  It is never pretentious, but it does now possess strange power that can cause the timid and the moderate to defer to you for decision.  When you pair it with striped socks, the gravitas is redirected, and appropriate for when you get roped into academic boards full of social climbers salivating over the title of "chair" or if you get hoodwinked into museum governance.  The policy stiffs who call breakfast roundtables at six o'clock in the morning (and thankfully never read blogs) will feign scandal, and then with a straight face tell you that a muffin and a glass of orange juice is an acceptable and adequate breakfast.  I love three-pieces, but they assume a bit of expertise or seriousness, so wield them appropriately or you could be asked to weigh in on matters for which you are laughably unqualified.

Less serious for sure, but don't start in with green flannel being "for the country only".  That rule is functionally dead, and volubly harped upon only in blog comment sections.

Freshly polished shoes scuffed with Boston cobblestones

Collar Stays (Re-dredged Post)

Why you are a chump if you ever BUY NEW COLLAR STAYS

For whatever reason, in the last 3 days I got hundreds of (remarkably polite) requests specifically to repost this.  That seems both odd and almost as if I am breaking some standard by recycling old materials.  Luckily, as a third-rate blogger, I am unrestrained by pesky controls like common sense, ethics, professionalism, good taste, "standards", gravity, and obviously the second law of thermal dynamics.

I'll have a new post shortly.

The following excerpt is from the original HERE, Originally Posted January 27, 2009
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[...]
Still, after losing a bunch of [collar] stays, I was forced to buy a new small vile of them at Brooks Brothers, for about $14. It seemed expensive at the time for tiny plastic tabs, but I didn't want the ends of my collars to break formation when I have them flanking a tie. After I lost that entire supply, the solution came to me on a business trip.

I had lost the pair I brought with me, and was feeling a bit hopeless. I looked around the room, and next to the small coffee maker, were some cocktail straws and my room key card.

It seemed simple enough. I doubled it and put the point into the stay slot. They would have to do. I asked the front desk to send up some scissors (though I suppose nail clippers could have been used... slowly).


It worked. On the second day, I cut the room key to pieces and used it to fabricate new plastic stays. I then remembered paying $14 for a few of these, as I sat with a new pair for free.


It worked out perfectly. Now, I just keep the room key that the hotels give me, and make a few new pair each time I need them... for free.

I have no problem with the luxury models of collar stays, but they are just not for me. It's not a style issue, its practicality.

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Reviving Shirts IV: Sewn-away Collars

Turn Us Under, Not Asunder

For whatever reason, after about eight years, these Thomas Pink butcher-check shirts decided to simultaneously give up the ghost on their collars.  Before this one died outright, I took it to see about repair.  The seamstress recommended a full change of collar, but I am already getting too far in-country behind the lines of contrast-collars so I resisted. She said it again.  I resisted again.  After some mutually unblinking show-down style staring (it's an odd relationship), I asked if she could simply cut the corners away, going from a stronger Windsor 90 degree spread to a literal cut-away.  After a close look, she said that the fabric would not hold well. They were nearly disintegrated along the forward edge.  Her solution was so simple I was ashamed to had never thought of it.  She folded the points under, and marked them.

BEFORE:  Fletched and Frayed

Damaged area circled

AFTER: Sewn-under and held fast

With the collar turned under, the cut trended stylish... especially with a tie.

BEFORE:  With a tie

AFTER: With a tie

Since basic geometry ensures that the middle of the collar (at the top button) remains mostly unchanged, there is still some damage left.  This by no means returned the shirt to new, but it did give me several more years in it.

Under the hood

As you can see, there was no magic to it.  The points were simply folded under, sewn (double seamed) and then pressed.  The slots for the collar stays were obviously and necessarily neutralized, but with the double-thickness of the added layer, the collar does not budge.  Below, the BEFORE and AFTER.

 

This is not as good as replacing the collars, but for about $10, it certainly will be a passable jury rig.  It looked decent with an Orvis (packable travel) blazer from a thrift-store (new with tags... $4) and another warm sweater vest.  The climate of indoor slate courts and stands are usually like a garage... an only slightly less-uncomfortable version of the outdoor temperature.  Traditional spectator attire includes sweaters with stripes around the neck, cuffs, and waist. For the more archaic racquet sports, when the courts are really cold, observers are encouraged to keep warm with lap-robes, hats, gloves, alcohol, wagering, and cheering.

Reviving Shirts
Part I
Part II
Part III
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Golf Inspired Clothing

The Legend of Baggier Pance.
Ever since the Golf Foxtrot transitioned to Whisky India Foxtrot Echo several years back, I have maintained a flawless golfing record.  Not a single game.  It helps that I am ambivalent towards it, which never sat well in my family of ultra-excitable and competitive golf-course marksmen.  The modern golfing aesthetic is largely unrecognizable from its origins, which probably died out with the retirement of Jack Nicklaus.  With garments designed to attempt concealment of abdominal brewery depositories, the clothing seems almost specifically engineered to be unflattering.  Gone are plaid pants, brimmed hats, visors, sweaters, and now, even golfing shoes.  What do I care?  I don't even play golf.  Occasionally though, I like to give a nod to a sport that until recently, valued green blazers, madras pants, two-toned kilties, and lightweight sweaters.  Thankfully, women golfers still wear visors, flattering (sleeveless) collared shirts, and madras, and in summer when the aunties head out for their cut-throat golfing, the tonic and I both wave from the hammock.  Contrary to what most people think, many of the old golfing club members tend to keep the colors pretty tame, and terms like "pink and green" only imply the combination of "sunburned and sick".

Patterned gray suit with argyle socks and sweater vest

Scratchy and warm vest, but won't likely see a golf course

It "casuals-down" a normal suit

Over-the-calf woolen socks with Henry Maxwell Kilties

Here, 007 represented the contemporary golfing attire (then) while Goldfinger remained with the previous generation's assembly.  Bond  foiled Goldfinger's attempt at the ol' switcheroo during this game.

An alert from Vir Beatum reminded me that the PGA has a few young fogeys.



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Wearing a Ton of Wellingtons

An unexpectedly poignant quote concerning the women who opt for the urban dairy farmer look.


        
  "I see these 16-40 year old girls and women with their tall green boots all over. A hint of rain and they put them on with some gore-tex parka, flannel shirt and jeans.  When these same "fashionable girls" where young they mocked me to no end for wearing them to school, which I did from about 3rd grade to middle school.  They came from suburbs that were built on land that used to be the Perkins, Stottlemeyer, and Colchester family farms from when my dad was a kid.  We still lived on our smaller farm like a lot of the other kids in school and we wore [boots to class] because that was really all we had. They made fun of us when we got on the bus, throughout the school day and until we were dropped off.  It was really non-stop.  I remember different jingles they would sing about cow manure on our boots and how they smelled even though we always cleaned them in the morning after our chores.  I remember how it made me hate school and resent my family farm.  I see them now putting on $200 pairs of rubber boots and wearing them to parties, jobs and to school and I want to tell them that they made my childhood horrible. They would never get it."


I like Wellies, and in foul weather they are indispensable.  A far more elegant friend of mine often wears her black Lacrosse lobster boots with beautiful city clothing.  Her lifetime of summers in Coastal Maine give her the chops for it, and when the cold salt sea sprays the deck while underway, she never turns her head.  Like other boots, they are acceptable when appropriate, but when the look turns fully to details aping those who provide our agricultural abundance, I will think of the above quote.

A celebrity Vapida sloppily emerges from an emasculated pseudo-assault vehicle wearing the boots of those actually familiar with toil and uncoached physical exertion

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Rain Skirts II: Turnbull & Asser "Quorns"

 

 After some digging, I found the old Turnbull & Asser book with some vintage advertisements for their World War 1-era rainskirts or "overskirts".  T.A. dubbed them "Quorns", and they were meant to be paired with their matching "waterproof coat".  An accompanying hat was also offered, pictured in the illustrations.  Normally when shirtmakers ventured away from their craft, they stayed close, but T.A. went well off of Jermyn St. for this line of creation.

 


 Turnbull & Asser likely never imagined that stylish (and gorgeous) urban women would wear similar almost a century later while actually in the city.


 

Above, two ladies are golfing.  At closer examination, we see that they are on the first hole, the clubhouse is nearby, and the rain is just starting.  As the foreground's lady pulls on her waterproof coat, her companion sends a ball out into the grey, and the dejected caddy realizes that he is in for a wretched round with only a bone-soaking for his tip.

Turnbull & Asser used the same materials in their attempt to provide micro-dignity and nano-sanity to the hellish trenches of the Western Front with their Coverall and Groundsheet. The heartbreaking image of sons, brothers, and fathers attempting to sleep in frigid foreign mud with a device designed by those who's main clientele were likely never subjected to such horrors is moving to say the least.  Perhaps now I'll keep my ungrateful gob shut next time I arrive to an exhibit with rain-dampened socks.



A reverent nod and solemn salute to Cpl. F.W. Buckles, who dies this week.  At 110, he was the last surviving WW1 veteran.
 
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Style Quiz - The Parts Clothing Can't Hide

For the following quiz, write A, B, C, and D on a piece of paper.  Put a mark next to the letter each time you choose that answer (only 1 answer per question).  When you've finished, tally up the score, and see how you did.

1. When hosting a party at home for 20 or more, you serve drinks in:
A. Glass, always glass (rented for the big parties if needed).
B. You hire a caterer for all of your parties.
C. Plastic was good enough for college, it's good enough for us now.
D. Plastic cups.  We’re likely to get more than 80 in here.

2. At the party, someone spills wine on your expensive Anatolian. You first:
A. Leap into action with towels.
B. Assure your guest that it can be easily cleaned, and not to worry.
C. Roll your eyes and hope to deal with it when everyone leaves.
D. Immediately refill that guest's glass.

3. When leaving a restaurant, the coat-check attendant hands you an overcoat and you notice a hole in the elbow.  You say:
A. "WHAT?!! Look what happened!! I want the manager's name!!"
B. "Ooh, this is embarrassing.  I've got to get that repaired."
C. "Excuse me, you handed me the wrong coat."
D. "Thank you" (because it is your coat and the hole has been there since the Reagan Administration). 

4. You get an invitation to attend the annual ball for a local "foundation", tickets are $450 each.  You:
A. Immediately purchase tickets and ready your evening wear.
B. Call around to see if anyone you know is also going.
C. Call the foundation to complain because big donors should be comped at these events (though it was your grandparents who were the big donors).
D. Call the foundation and ask how they got your name. 

5. Being preppy is very important to you.  You are:
A. Over 30 years old
B. Between 18 and 30 years old
C. In a photograph, and were 5 to 18 years old
D. Being sarcastic
***[Quadruple points.  Add four total marks to the answer you choose]***

6. Your cotton L.L. Bean sweater has faded after only 3 months.  You:
A. Blog about how products today aren't what they used to be
B. Return it and demand a new one
C. Give it away to a younger cousin or relative
D. Obviously had a nice summer, continue wearing it.
***[Double points.  Add two total marks to the answer you choose]***

7. The monogram on your shirt:
A. Is yours.
B. Belongs to your spouse or boyfriend/girlfriend.
C. Belongs to your father, grandfather, great-grandfather, etc.
D. Finally came off, but you had to work at it with a seam-ripper

8. You love getting catalogs in the mail because:
A. You can peruse each season's new collection.
B. It's so much nicer than seeing the exact same thing online.
C. At least it’s not an invitation to something.
D. Liquor stores that send out catalogs deserve your business.

9. If asked, you will explain that "summer" is:
A. A seasonal collection.
B. A verb.
C. A time for the same vacation you've taken for 6 generations.
D. Time to mix in tonic. 
***[Double points.  Add two total marks to the answer you choose]***

10. You never leave the house without:
A. Bringing your [insert name here] bag or accessory
B. Carrying your camera... you may need a picture of yourself for your blog
C. Offering the dog a walk.
D. Running into someone you know.

11. A true gentleman is:
A. Versed in popular etiquette and always impeccably dressed.
B. A man with excellent table manners who always pays for dinner.
C. A model to which young men should aspire.
D. Impossible to define, but you know it when you see it.

12. To prepare for a party at home, you:
A. Make sure that the hors d' oeuvres are noteworthy, that the house is perfectly arranged, and that the guestlist is very carefully selected
B. Make sure that only the best wines and liquors are on hand, and you have enough room for all of the guests to remove their shoes
C. Stock up on your favorite types of booze, throw in some wine for good measure, and recruit a few friends to arrive early with beer.  A few deli platters with crackers will do. 
D. Invite as many people as possible, ensuring that the age range is from 22 to 82.  Have lots of whatever food and plenty of booze, and the rest will take care of itself.

13. To host a large group, it takes you:
A. Weeks to plan, supply, and bake.
B. Most of a day or two to take care of absolutely everything, including the tiny details.
C. Between one and two hours... you have it down to a well-rehearsed routine.
D. A moment's notice.  Your best events actually started off as small lunch gatherings, organically grew into large parties the same evening, and continued into the wee small hours of the morning as epic events with several distinct waves.

14. The bartender asks how you would like your Cosmopolitan.  You say:
A. "With Absolut."
B. "With Grey Goose".
C. "Oh… ummm… I forgot to ask her.  What’s cheap?"
D.”I didn’t order that.  I was the bourbon.”

15. You and a friend see some tourists looking lost.  They are dressed as horribly as could possibly be.  You say to your friend:
A. "Ugh. Check out these tourists... shorts and white socks?"
B. "I hate tourist season.  This is why we have our beach-house."
C. "I bet they're looking for the [nearest local attraction]"
D. "Let's see if they need directions."

16. At a dinner party, one guest gets far more inebriated that the others, and speaks inelegantly about someone who is not there.  You should:
A. Speak to the host or hostess and decide the best way to deal with it.
B. Blacklist the individual from future parties.
C. Halfheartedly defend the person who is not there, then shrug it off.
D. Enjoy it. Every dinner party needs a bit of spice, but make sure that person doesn't drive.

17. You walk into a restaurant, and you are the only one in a coat and tie.  You:
A. Quickly remove your tie.
B. Hope that the staff remark about how well-dressed you are, and scoff at the other diners.
C. Don't really notice what the others are wearing.
D. Notice it, but don't care.  Your companions and the food are your reason for being there.

18. You have been invited to a large country house for a three-day weekend, but are unsure about the dress code.  You decide to:
A. Bring a few outfits that you know will be PERFECT.
B. Bring more than enough clothing, so you can cover every base.
C. Bring your Bean Boots and skis (winter) or bathing suit (summer) and assume that they will have a towel.
D. Call the host and ask what clothing or equipment would be best.  There's no shame in that.

19. Someone gives you a bottle of wine as they arrive at your house. You:
A. Thank him or her profusely and comment on the quality of the vintage, quietly setting aside the bottle for cooking purposes if it seems cheap.
B. Give quick thanks for the bottle and make haste to introduce him or her to the other guests, as you've already chosen the wines for the evening.
C. Absent-mindedly accept the bottle while trying not to be slightly annoyed at the  implication that your own wine might not be good enough.
D. Be glad that the bottle reminds you to promptly ask whether your guest would like a drink.

20. You find out that a friend will bring a famous actress as his guest to a party at your house.
A. This settles it: the party will be the best you have ever thrown.
B. Wow! Make sure we get plenty of pictures. Should we tell the local paper?
C. Well, she can't be any worse than that lobbyist he brought last time.
D. For once it will be easy to remember the name of his new girl.

21. At an outdoor party near a body of water (pool included), one or more guests casually decide to swim naked.  You:
A. Gasp.
B. Gasp.  Gain your composure, and authoritatively tell the nearest person that “it is common in Europe.”
C. Approach their pile of clothing, and carefully put their sunglasses on top of their shoes, so they won’t get lost or stepped on.
D. Are that person.

If you answered A 17 or more times:
You are very high-strung and constantly plagued by class-anxiety.  You likely subject your spouse to endless psy-ops concerning your interpretation of a "Preppy" operational outlook, because your [spouse] won't dress the way you want him or her to for the apple-picking day you planned.  You feverishly take notes at wine tastings, only drink Champagne from flutes, and watch a lot of television.  You read books that have "Handbook" in title more as manifestoes than as amusement.  You have the same posed look in every picture taken of you, and fuss endlessly over any element that you feel strays beyond the tolerance of the aesthetic with which you are attempting to brand yourself.  You don't realize that terms like "social climber" and "ambitious" are insults, and you regularly seethe with envy concerning perceptions of wealth.  If you ever did actually roll your pant-legs up to splash through a stream, you would retell it ad nauseum.  Your sense of uniqueness is ultimately shuttered by your disdain for anything actually unique. You will have used a calculator to tally your score for this quiz. 

If you answered B 17 or more times:
You are somewhat active socially, though your estimate of your own status is 50% higher than the actual level.  You cheerily or smugly identify with certain colors for clothing, and you have a very self-articulated social agenda (that may even exist in outline-form somewhere).  You are absolutely insufferable on any committee, the roster for which you insist be printed in the programs for the events it hosts.  Your reading materials tend to serve as fashion accessories, and you enjoy "casually" displaying certain magazines in your house.  Perhaps your father is/was a member of a pleasant country club, but you certainly can't convince your spouse to join.  Your style for dressing is dogmatic and dictated entirely by your various catalogs.  You forcefully assign cutesy nicknames to people for the sole purpose of nick-name-dropping in other circles, including your pets and children.

If you answered C 17 or more times:
You were a "preppy" child, and are now the real thing... though you never actually use this term.  You have been throwing the same parties for years, and half of the glasses at your house were those your parents gave you when they replaced all of theirs.  You have a few of your country club's ashtrays (pilfered, of course) for friends who smoke, and after parties the same group of college buddies tend to stay later than everyone else.  Much of what you do is through an inherited reverence for routine, and your house is a mixture of well-worn antiques that belonged to now-dead ancestors, and there are newer objects made with classical designs.  Your friends tend to be relatively homogeneous, slightly boring, and bizarrely unable to move out of their time-capsule of 28-ish-ness.  You're not really sure why you wear some of the things you do... you just always have.  You make nice or expensive clothing seem somehow bland, because if you buy a Brooks Brothers shirt and suit, you never consider the additional step to have it further refined for fit.  You never look bad in your clothing, but you also never look great.  You tend to be a loyal friend, but rarely venture outside of your circle.  You likely possess passable-to-talented abilities in one of the statistically uncommon sports (squash, dingy racing, riding), and you favor beer, vodka, or rum-based drinks.

If you answered D 17 or more times:
You have few hang-ups, and are constantly expanding (not reducing) your circle of friends.  Parties that you throw can sometimes look like a crowded subway car with widely varying types and of all ages.  You are often both formal and approachable at the same time, and snobs look to you for sympathetic commiseration, which you don't give.  You take your ability to flourish in nearly any setting for granted, and you routinely find your schedule over-committed.  You are skeptical by nature, wary of trends, and you can successfully extract pleasant moments from everyday life with astounding frequency.  While you can be extremely observant of people, you regularly miss cues from hosts who are ready to go to sleep (and for you to leave), and you are somehow oblivious to people flirting with you. Dates often feel neglected in social settings with you, and are routinely put off by your slightly tedious exultation of nearly everyone. Though elegance in clothing and charm may come effortlessly, you often misjudge (severely at times) the reception of your humor.  Your exterior may be anything from dandy to Yankee conservative, from dapperjack to bookish collegiate, or from bland business-dress to flamboyant.  You understand not just how to do things, but why. 

If A and B were the two most-occurring answers, your family dreads being around you when it's time to throw a party, and you are a relentless nag.  You insist on immediately seeing any picture that was just taken (even casually), and will demand a re-shoot or even several.  You hope that people see you doing the crossword puzzle, and you refer to the local teenage boy who does your light yardwork bi-weekly as "my grounds keeper".  You steadily offer class envy for a social class that doesn't exist, or one you married into, or one that was absconded with after grandmother died, and your adolescent representation of the good life is saturated in the lazy fussiness and niceties of the scented candle crowd.

If B and C (possibly A and C as well) were the two most-occurring answers, you fancy yourself part of the old-guard, of moderate inheritance and custom, and you won't let anybody forget it.  You refer to your  parent's or relative's boat/summer house/ski house as "my boat/summer house/ski house", and you try to conceal the fact that you need to ask for permission to use it.  You work the little indicators of privilege into most conversations, especially when you meet someone new, and your class-anxiousness percolates when you're out of your carefully cultivated arena.  Your Great Aunt has a staff of four at home, and when you visit, you treat them dismissively and abrasively.  Your portion of the trust fund contained no provisions for professional (or academic) development incentives, and you now feel quietly threatened because you can't relate to those with "careers".  You make it known that you serve on several committees, but no advisory board of any merit will have you.  Your redeeming qualities include a total comfort with entertaining (although it tends to be ill-prepared), and your willingness to allow people over at all hours.  Contrary to the assumptions, you are rarely late when given a schedule, and usually up for last-minute adventures.  You are never late for brunch, and Sunday morning usually finds a hung-over guest or two on your couch.  Thankfully, you know how to make strong coffee.

If C and D were the two most-occurring answers, you are likely well-read, well-dressed, and well-spoken. You get along well at dive-bars and city/country clubs with equal ease, and are usually very well liked by the parents of people you've dated.  You tend to dress well often, but moderate it appropriately, preferring to avoid being noticed.  You find it very easy to get along with even the most ill-tempered old people, and they tend to take to you as a confidante. You tip well, deal easily with paradox (because you embody many elements of it), but your deliberate conduct can put people on edge.  You rarely reflect deeply on questions of social status, though everyone who sells you coffee or serves you at an info desk tends to begin reflecting on them just from looking at your hair and the way you dress your children.  Only when others agree on something you find horrible do you realize that many do not share the ethical and cultural outlook that you take as a given. You sometimes annoy people by tending to assume that the entire infrastructure of civilization was put in place to make your life easier (though some historians would probably support you on this). In a revolution where the ruling class was being beheaded, you would have about a fifty-fifty chance of talking your way out of it.

Question 5 is quadruple points.  Whatever letter you chose must get 4 marks added to it.
Questions 6 and 9 count for double points.  Whatever letter you chose must get 2 marks added to it.

Reasonable Indulgence - Kent combs

 

$7-20 for a comb?  What could it possibly do?  The same thing that the $1 comb does.  What is does not do is till your scalp like a tobacco field in the spring.  The teeth are thickly cut, and carefully rounded at the bottom, making the experience noticeably better.  They all say "hand-cut", and are certainly heavier than the other drugstore versions.  Will they change the way you look at combs?  Let's not be stupid.  Will they make you a bit more careful about keeping track of them?  Yes.

This one is great for traveling

While Anglo lady-grooming pillar Mason Pearson brushes usually start near $80 and easily exceed $100, you will find Kent in the more reasonable $10 range for standard models.  I give them as gifts to nephews, friends, and people who might like these odd sorts of things.  When my son can comb his hair himself, I have one waiting for him.  They obviously don't do anything magical, but they can blur the line between routine and ritual long enough to give you a few seconds to figure out your day or to sharpen your heading.

The Kent comb adds a small amount of daily niceness, even to the hurried hairwright, but they are thankfully within reason.  Buy one and give it its own place.  It is an indulgence, but at a small price.

Reader Questions: Blitz Edition

Questions submitted between January 25 and February 25, 2011



"Dear YWP, Is it true that you shouldn't wear the same shoes two days in a row?"

This is a good idea, but disaster won't strike if ignored.  Foot sweat and general condensation wets the interiors of your shoes, but if you live in a very dry climate, there will generally be no issue, as the shoes will be dry the next day.  I recommend polishing the outside, and most importantly, putting shoe trees/forms/lasts in them when you take them off.  If you live in a damper climate, it is wise to follow the every-other-day rule.  As for the trees/forms/lasts, you can spend $3 (drugstore plastic version) or $300 (hand-carved wooden version), and the result will be about the same.

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"Is it alright to wear a vest?"

Yes.  There are some situations where the subtlety and nuance of the vest's implications will dictate one way or the other, but generally, it is always nice to wear the odd vest.  Tread carefully if it is being paired with a suit for which it was not intended, but when mixed with jacket/tie/trousers, you are almost always safe.

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"A lot of the other men at [large brokerage house] go to get pedicures.  Is this a good idea?  It seems weird."

While it may be true that many males get pedicures, it is also true that men do not.

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"Is a bespoke shirt worth the money?"

It depends on your body type. I have had several shirts made for me, and they were nice... but I found that several off-the-rack shirts fit me just as well, if not better.  For example, I prefer a shirt with a tapered middle, which is a process that costs extremely little by a seamster, and when I need something interesting done, I go to a shirt maker for alterations.  Bespoke shirts are usually well over $100 and at times over $500, but for my torso, the normal Jermyn Street racks fit just as well, and because I am VERY patient with buying, I rarely pay over $50 for them... and usually in the range of $30 with free shipping from London.  When Filene's Basement was open, Ralph Lauren shirts of all sorts were in sloppy teetering stacks and at $19.  When you find a good fit and a good bargain, bite the budget bullet and buy a big bag full.  If your torso is harder to fit, and the seamster shakes their head at your request, bespoke shirts may be a good option, but they will have a price to match.  Unique and attractive/quirky features are certainly reason to justify a bespoke shirt, though.

Tab cuff? Worth it. 

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"I just bought a Hilditch [and Key shirt] that is too long but fits great otherwise..."

Men's shirts from the old guard are (correctly) long, because they are intended to be worn tucked in.  In fact, a proper shirt will look terrible untucked, as the tails and front extend below the crotch when standing which keeps them held safely prisoner into your trouser's waist.  In a London store, I once saw a formal French shirt that not only buttoned up the back, but also fastened between the legs with two buttons... and tucked it would certainly stay.

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"yur blog sucks and yur and snboby a**hole!"

Though I am inclined to agree with you on the first part (this blog sucking), I must dispute your second claim: I am always courteous when sledding on the sno-bob.  I wait my turn and let others have theirs, and I always pull the younger kids back to the top of the hill.  I also never walk in the sledding lane... that is something an a**hole would do.

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Men's Dressing Gown

Dollars and Taxes in Dallas, Texas

I know, it's a Chico Marx joke.  On a recent business trip to Dallas, I stopped by Ahab Bowen, a thrift-ish boutique in a particularly pleasant section of Dallas.  The selection was mostly for ladies, but the men's room was impeccably organized and with a smaller but adequate inventory.  I walked away with a few noticeably nice silk pocket squares for about $4 or $5 a piece, a madras cummerbund, and a very handsome and heavy silk (yes, silk) robe for about $40.





The sturdy and thick lapels let it lay nicely, and it is noticeably warmer than my flannel version.  It's fully lined in a dark silk, has thick turned cuffs, and no tags at all.  Mysterious.

Regal Richard Roxburgh's Royal Robe

In the aesthetically catchy but overall-underwhelming film Moulin Rouge!, Richard Roxburgh seems to channel Gary Oldman for his role as the Duke, who, for one scene, wears a sweeping ankle-length house (gown) robe of the most imposing construction in deep quilted purple silk, heavy even to the eye, with two door-hinge sized frog-fasteners, a shawl collar like a tranquilized cobra, and cuffs as sturdy as electric chair restraints.  I think I saw the movie on a date, and disliked most of both, but I always remembered that ridiculous/incredible robe.  I once saw something remotely similar at the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, but it would have required its own suitcase to get home, and I instead spent my money on a carefully carved meerschaum half-bent billiard.  The lining of case it came with was the only silk I would procure during that trip.

A few years ago, I was staying at an inn (long-since converted from the grand house of some early industrialist) during a miserable winter fly-fishing trip.  In the evening, (and in my only dry socks, ragged pants, and lined flannel wool shirt) several guests sat in the heavily worn chairs near the massive roaring fire helping ourselves to the house sherry, and I spoke with a lady of about eighty delivering a nice Quebecois-patois.  When her even older husband joined us, he was in a thick silk dressing gown over his bow-tie and shirt, and his wife quietly dismissed his clothing choice to me, saying "I was hoping he would not wear his brandy suit here."  I realized that I had just met the world's coolest man.

Reviving Shirts III - Dr. Frankenshirt

Brooks Brothers/Thomas Pink Merger

An old Thomas Pink shirt of mine was in need of surgery.  While the collar was miraculously in healthy shape, the cuff edges were on the verge of looking like fletching... (Maybe now would be a good time to coin the term "fletched" for worn out collars and cuffs that have gone frayed?  Done.  Fletched it is.)  So the French cuffs were fletched, and in need of replacement.  I also had a Brooks Brothers evening shirt (in perfect condition) that I had just found on eBay for about $5 to put into the black tie rotation.  The solution was simple:  I would create a monster.

Inspired by a friend's double-take-inducing evening shirt in black-watch, I set about combining the two shirts (actually the tailor did... I am devoid of talent) into something that would hopefully accomplish the same thing.  It turned out just as I had hoped.  The marcella bib, collar, and cuffs we all very thick, and the bib was double-layered (creating a near-armored breast plate) on the original evening shirt.  I transferred only a single layer, and it excellently allowed the butcher-check underneath to show through slightly. 

BB bib/cuffs/collar & T.Pink body

Underneath an older Brooks Brothers dinner jacket (as a then 26-year old, the first one I had ever purchased) with more casual notched lapels, only the bib and cuffs were visible.

Brooks Brothers dinner jacket

 

Thankfully, the city has no shortage of black tie enforced events, and since dinner jackets tend to not be let off the torso easily, the pattern will be kept hidden away like striped socks... a chance-glance at most.

Reviving Shirts I (the first post) & Reviving Shirts II

The Ascot

"Dear Yankee-Whiskey-Papa,
I was visiting with my grandfather who is one of the best dressed men I know, and he gave me an ascot of his.  My question is will I look like a jerk wearing it?"

-Joshua


Dear Joshua,
Yes, you will look like a bit of a jerk wearing it, but that is exactly why you should immediately put it on.  It is excellent tribute to the generosity of your grandfather and his style, and it will sharply reduce the number of high-fives offered you.  The majority of people will likely think that you look like a dandy, but the majority of people abhor wearing actual clothing out of doors anyway.  I wouldn't make it a trademark of yours, but certainly put it on at parties, evenings to restaurants, or any other time you please.  You can always start slowly, by keeping it tightly tucked  under the shirt and not billowing up, looking as if your clavicles have vomited silk.

Most come in pointed ends, with pleats around the neck-portion.  These fit very well, but make themselves limited in their application.  If you have a sweater, they can also be used as a tie if you're in a pinch.

I mostly use long silk scarves, rolled or folded, because they can be taken off and given to someone if it's cold, and they tend to be warmer and fuller. 

The patterns on the pre-formed ones are generally conservative.  Avoid solids when possible, and contrary to what many say, stripes are very pleasant.

The open neck looks a bit odd, and reminds everyone that you may likely be someone who speaks loudly on a cellphone before berating the gate-agent about your delayed flight.

A silk scarf can start between the jacket and the sweater or shirt, letting people know that you are stylishly preparing for the evening to cool down.

Between jacket and sweater

Inside the party or during your stroll, the scarf can be worn between sweater and shirt for a more elegant look that is still uncommon enough to be interesting but without all the stereotypical baggage associated.

Between sweater and shirt

Now, there is no turning back.  Once the silk goes between shirt and neck, every hockey high-fiver, blood-thirsty shut-in, 'roid-raging goon, methed-out hayseed, and management-speak spanky will cross the room to make a Thurston Howell joke.  You should have thought of this before you went into Bucky's Sports Bar and Grill dressed in an ascot.

Between shirt and skin

The ascot has been unfairly railroaded into it's stereotype for decades.  It works just as well with jeans, pajamas, or a vest, but always with a jacket.  I say wear it, and nevermind caring what people think of it.  An evening party in the cooler months with a dark velvet jacket and silk ascot somehow makes gin taste better, and a scarf between sweater and shirt is just right for a ride in the convertible or a trip to the library peddling the English three-speed.
 
Leaving it untucked is far beyond the limits of sensible, and advisable only if you are the Amherst-modeled driver of the Mystery Machine.  Zoiks!