Wow, You Look Sharp! Do you have a Meeting?

I don't know if you've come across this, but I'll bet most of you have at some point. You pull on a snappy ensemble, kiss the wife adieu and head to work. When you get there you're greeted with this unfortunate comment: "You look sharp! Very business like. Do you have a meeting?"

That's just a symptom of the problem--the loss of the culture of gentlemanly dapper panache. These days, most people are of this mindset: A suit is for business, maybe a wedding or funeral. The rest of one's days are meant for jeans or shorts and perhaps, just maybe if they want to punch it up a bit, a polo shirt. How we got from the 1940s to now is too large of a horse to tackle in this particular post, mostly because this post is being written in the late eve, when gentleman are either a) preparing for the bedtime repast of scotch, whisky or [name your potion], or b) on the third course of a late night dinner party. I am n the "a" category" tonight.

But it is a sad state of loopiness when dressing well equals business, rather than pleasure. True, this is the same culture that mistakes casual-dress for men with dressing like a child or, at best, your common teenager.

We should define our terms though.

Casual-dress=[this is but one example, and a standard one] a blue blazer with brass buttons and white or gray pants.

Semi-formal=a suit.

Formal=tuxedo or morning dress.

Yet, most would call all of the above "formal." Now I don't mean jeans and a t-shirt don't have their place; they do, and so do shorts. But that's not even casual wear--it's either super-casual ("super" meaning "beyond"), or else sporting-wear.

None of this answers the question though: How to change these insane sartorial attitudes. When one watches Jeeves and Wooster one does not think, "Ah, Bertie is on his way to the old office." No, one thinks, "Now that is how a man about town ought to dress every time he goes out--Bertie must be headed to a restaurant or the Drones Club, or to the country to help a pal." Basically, when you see Bertie putting on a suit it means he is going outside of his flat, end of story. And he looks every bit the dapper lad. There's no office involved, for goodness sakes. Indeed, wearing a suit or else nice pants and a sport coat, from Bertie's time (1920's/30's) until recently, were simply de riguer.

This post isn't going to reach many people who don't already dress, or are thinking about dressing, like gentlemen. But let us encourage one another to do at least one thing to influence the world for the better--wear true casual-wear or suits as a matter of course, unless reason prohibits it for some reason (heat, illness, sports and the like, viz, times when one can't wear such an ensemble or other wear is called for). The more of us that can answer the "why so dressed up today, do you have a meeting?" With, "Just to dress up, to look like a gentleman" the more people will expect real men to dress thus.

If more men did, what a difference it would make! Dressing well makes one want to act better, speak better, and be more chivalrous; and it helps others want to do likewise. Women will begin to expect that real men dress like men, not like teenagers. The world will be more pleasant to walk about in.

Courage! Keep dressing like real men, and whatever happens--well, it's like what Guggenheim said when the Titanic was going down and there was nothing more he could do--when the most recent movie came out youngsters everywhere laughed at him, but in real life it was an astoundingly brave and gentlemanly way to face death: He had helped women and children to get to boats, and decided not to get in one himself so that he wouldn't take their ticket to safety. He then said, on behalf of himself and his friends, "We are dressed in our best and prepared to go down like gentlemen. And we would like a brandy."

Now that's a gentleman, dressed to the nines whether in life or preparing for death, bravely facing his own demise as he sacrifices himself to let women and children live. Lads, that's a good example right there. We, too, can aspire to being such true gentlemen! And it does take work--but it's worth it.

What did you call me?

So, once again, you're walking down the street, with a great deal of panache and vim, minding your own business. Perhaps you're headed to the old office, or perhaps you don't have to work and you're just taking a stroll down to the coffee shop. It's not a stretch of the imagination to suppose that you're going to meet a pretty lady. With all this heavy on the old bean, the last thing you expect to hear is a voice behind you say, "Seersucker."

What is this? A scoundrel with nothing better to do than insult the finely dressed? An invitation to fight? A mugging?

It may be all of the above, but it's at least this: a recognition of your fine jacket or suit, which, you perhaps didn't realize, is made of seersucker. You should have guessed, perhaps because of the stripes (common for seersucker), or else something on the label, or the fact that it is astonishingly thin, light, and airy.

Seersucker--it's a fabric that used to be donned mainly by the poor and downtrodden, because the fabric comes from the cheap and easy to produce "seersucker" weed, common in Canada and some island in some part of the ocean. Surprising? Yes--one, there isn't really any such place as Canada; two, seersucker is actually a thin, all-cotton fabric, perfect for warmer weather. Besides this, the fabric is woven so that the threads tend to bunch up in places, creating a material that improves heat distribution and air circulation, and doesn't need ironing for the most part.

It was indeed common for poor folk in the late 1800's and early 1900's. But then university students, in an effort to effect a certain exclusive snobbishness, pulled on the seersucker. It was a confusing option. Author Damon Runyon writes that when he started wearing seersucker it was "causing much confusion among my friends. They cannot decide whether I am broke or just setting a new vogue."

It's quite a trick to start a new vogue. I still think one of the best new vogues to start is to consider the Fedora the every day hat for gentlemen (there are plenty of times to wear other hats--the trilby at the horse races, for example). Imagine if we all started wearing fedoras most days. It could stop crime, war, and cause women to swoon all over the place.

But I digress.. one final point (though there is much more one could write of seersucker--perhaps for another post): To wear it outside the realm of Memorial Day through Labor Day is, in many circles, considered a fashion faux pas of a rather embarrassing sort.

But even if you do wear seersucker outside the acceptable times, console yourself with this: wearing a "short sleeve dress shirt" (which does not exist) is a far more serious sartorial infraction. Indeed, writing, speaking, thinking or in anyway intimating the phrase "short-sleeve dress shirt" is to combine words and ideas in an impossible manner--it's one of the world's great paradoxes: Those words simply can't exist in the same place at the same time--and yet in some disturbing way, they do.

So if someone stalks up behind you and says, "Seersucker", you'll know what to say:

"Yes indeed, my good man!" or, "I know it's out of season--but at least it's not a short sleeve thingummy..."

Just Button it! Or not, Whatever You Like!

Edward Crane asks, “What’s all the to-do about never buttoning the bottom button of a single-breasted suit jacket? Is that really the correct form?”

So, you’ve just pulled on your most dapper suit. You’ve a pocket square in place, a carnation in the lapel, and your best shoes strapped on—perhaps Church’s, or John Lobb. It’s a sunny day, just the right temp; you don your fedora and glancing in the mirror on the way out you can’t help but think—“The perfect gentleman-about-town; now this is the look of a true dandy!”

It’s a grand scene. But if you are a student of literary foreshadowing you just know it’s not going to stay that way. You walk down the street and women gasp, children start crying and their mothers send sharp daggers from their eyes in your direction. Gents about the lane show their malcontent by their goggling eyes and best open-mouthed codfish expression. A merciful fellow pulls you aside and says, “Great Scot man, what are you thinking? Will you give all gents a bad name? There are women and children about for goodness sakes! Now you just unfasten the bottom of your suit jacket, and be dashed quick about it, Sunny Jim.”

Two thoughts immediately strike you—1, your name isn’t Sunny Jim, and 2, from whence comes our modern day thicket of sartorial popinjays? Because you know a bit about button history…

“Look here my man,” you say, “it’s not as bad as all that.” You pat him the back in a consoling manner. “Let me give you a history lesson, hitting the high points as it were…”

The fellow’s hollow yet acidic laugh—the sort of laugh one would expect from a lemon— does not deter you.

Before hitting the high points, it may be worthwhile to mention straight-off the cricket bat that, while going against a great many very wise experts in the field of men’s suit-wear, I cannot help but coming to the conclusion that in this matter they are wrong—not because I think I know more than they, but because history provides incontrovertible facts that seem to render their position untenable—their position that the bottom most button of a suit jacket must NEVER be buttoned.

The High—er, Rotund—Points

During the years of 1901 through 1910 King Edward VII of England was, er, a growing fashion trend setter, of a sort. His girth increased faster than the royal tailors could sew, and one day, in need of relief, King Edward VII unbuttoned the last button on his waistcoat. And then he just kept on doing it. It didn’t take long for the King’s simple act of comfort for his large belly to lead to unbuttoned last buttons on the waistcoats of the gentry. Soon, this style popped up like a sartorial weed. Weeds are never static—unfastening the lower button on the suit jacket came next. It was a fad of the time, fads being the weed par excellence.

The Before and After

Prior to King Edward VII, men wore garments of coarse wool, animal hides, even bark. Wait—I’ve gone too far back in sartorial history. Ah, here we are, the 19^th century. Before and for a long time after our friend King Edward VII men buttoned their suits in a variety of configurations. Walking down the street with all buttons done up didn’t cause women to faint, children to cry, or the anxious to panic. Through the 1950’s men wore suits with all buttons buttoned, or the bottom button unbuttoned, or some combination.

Yet somehow, like a dastardly bacterium, the idea spread that the bottom button ought not to be fastened, and before you could say “Bob’s your Uncle” suit jackets were designed specifically so that the bottom button is best left undone. Moving backwards, it runs like this:

The present: Many suit jackets are tailored specifically for the bottom button to be unfastened.

The mid 20^th century: Still all manner of button configurations, but some people adopting the idea that suit jackets ought to have the bottom button unfastened, because some people were doing this and fashion designers kept saying it’s the way it should be.

Early 1900’s: King Edward VII becomes too large in the stomach region to comfortably keep the bottom button on his waistcoat fastened, and he leaves it unbuttoned; the gentry do what the King does, a sort of style fad. Soon it is the suit jacket with the bottom button left undone.

The 19^th century: No such thing as “the bottom button is always left undone.” No rules as such—some men only button the top most button of their suit coats, some neatly button them all.

“Are you saying a fellow should always fasten the bottom button?”

No, indeed not. For one thing, it was never the case to always button a jacket in one way or another. Some jackets today really are made—the cutaway, for example—so that the bottom button is best unfastened. Not much of a choice. Or, a gentleman may have portly proportions about the old central fuselage that require the lowest button to remain undone.

But looking at photographic and print evidence from the century past, we see that some men buttoned all the buttons, and some men left the last unhitched. President John F. Kennedy, for example, buttoned both buttons on his Brook’s Brother’s suits. You can find ads for men’s suits from the 1920’s through the 1950’s that show various button configurations. These are facts of history, no getting around them. There is simply nothing to suggest that this lowest button OUGHT to remain undone or that doing so as a matter of course was ever part of sartorial tradition.

And there is good reason to button it: the look is more elegant, crisper; it looks more polished; the pelvic area is not exposed; the jacket doesn’t whip about in a breeze, a look that seems to convey disorder rather than having one’s style all together. If that weren’t enough, on a jacket with 3 or more buttons the buttoning of them all give one both a slimmer and taller appearance.

One of the arguments of our day is simply that a suit jacket hangs better with that bottom button ignored. But in reality, the manner of buttoning depends on one’s physique, one’s personal style, and how the jacket looks. A mirror, one’s wife, or both, are of tremendous assistance. Does a certain buttoning configuration cause:

—unsightly folds

—unsightly bumps due to a wallet or other item in the jacket pocket

—look generally unkempt

—Make visible too much of the waste/pelvic region

Keep in mind, the type of suit comes into play here as well. Older suit jackets tend to have a higher gorge—in a nutshell, it buttons up higher, showing less of the shirt/tie area; newer suits tend to have a lower gorge—showing more of the shirt/tie area. Thus, a rough guide:

* Two Button Suits

—for a low-gorge style, the bottom button is meant to remain unfastened.

—for a high-gorge style, the bottom button should probably be fastened to prevent wind puffing up the jacket, blowing it about or showing too much of the waist/pelvis.

* Three Button Suits

—the top two buttons done, lowest undone: this is completely correct, but there are two potential problems for which to keep the eye peeled—1) with a wallet or other object in the jacket pocket, an unsightly bugle may appear; in this case, undo the top button. If not, you may leave it buttoned, or not. If not, and the suit cut is loose, this may create an unflattering diamond-type shape.

2) With the bottom button undone, it may cause you to look wider than you would like to appear. But if the jacket is designed for this button to remain unfastened, buttoning it may cause the material to bunch up, creating the same illusion of excess girth. And men are simply not meant to give girth.

—Only the top button done: this creates a wide expanse of the waist area to be exposed, and, while it may be a style some like, I can’t recommend it.

—All three buttons fastened: a striking and elegant appearance. The entire chassis appears narrower, and taller.

The really crucial bit with buttons is simply aiming for a dapper silhouette—and this may be achieved with a variety of buttoning techniques.

So what are we to make of the “never button the bottom button on a suit jacket” doctrine? It is, it seems, sartorial myth forced into service as legitimate tradition and/or tailoring wisdom, much the same as if a chap said, “one must always use a full-Windsor knot for one’s ties.” Alas, the full-Windsor simply doesn’t work for all ties, styles and physiques, and it’s no different when it comes to buttons—there has never been, nor can there really be, a hard and fast rule that says, without exception, “the bottom button is never fastened”; it’s simply a bit of supposed sartorial sagacity that is—and I know this sounds strong—poppycock, and even balderdash. Neither history nor common sense supports such a doctrine.

I know this conclusion may be irksome to many exceedingly fine tailors and clothiers, but I only ask them to consider the evidence, the arguments against their position, and possibly re-writing the saying to read, “the bottom button is sometimes best unbuttoned, or not.”

That all being said, I am more than willing to consider any evidence and arguments to the contrary of my position. Only one view can be true though—either that button is best always left undone, or is not always best left undone; either it is a legitimate tradition based upon sound reasoning and serving a good purpose, or it is not; either it always serves to render a graceful silhouette, or it does not always do so; either it is so for all suit jackets, or is not so for all suit jackets.

Do you have an opinion either way? Evidence to the contrary of that presented above? Reasons to back up the “never fasten the bottom button” theory? Please do leave a comment, or send an email to the WDG at welldressedgentleman@gmail.com.

Whatever your view, we’re all in the same sartorial boat, trying to look our dapper best and cut a figure of grandeur wherever we go.

Cheerio, gentlemen!

We tip our Fedora to...

Herring Shoes: "Herring's is a family business which was started in 1966 by Richard Herring. Its purpose to supply the general public with top quality shoes with service to match. In recent years our customers have been able to take advantage of the 'Herring' own brand of footwear which is tailored to todays needs with fantastic style and value, created from years of inside knowledge of the shoe trade. Our aim is to educate people just how important good shoes are in life."

Bromleys: "A Tradition of Timeless, Classic Dressing

Bromleys is proud to supply shirts, ties and men's clothing accessories to the discerning British businessman, with some of the finest from Savile Row and Jermyn Street of London

This exclusive men's clothing range is renowned around the world as the best quality, style and cut that money can buy. Now you can enjoy the convenience of having fine clothing delivered directly to your home or office.

What's more, with the added security of Bromleys' guarantee, if you're not completely satisfied, you can return your goods within 30 days for an exchange or full refund."

What's happened to Boston?

Well, not Boston, Bostonians. The question came up a while back in re this particular brand of dress shoes--do they belong in a list that contains Church's, Allen Edmunds, Sandro Moscoloni, et al? The results (this is simply my take of course): they do not belong in such a list. The fit and finish simply doesn't match up. A sad thing. If you find them at a thrift shop, I would say go for them if they are in good shape; buy them new? Put your money toward a superior pair of shoes. You'll be happy you did!

Flowers!—for Me? I Know Just where to Put Them. Now, where’s My Pocket Knife?

It’s fascinating how taking a gander at the origins of a particular action, or item of sartorial aspect, can transform it, turning it from something in which you simply weren’t interested or took for granted into a wondrous and esteemed treasure.

Consider the boutonnière. Wait, hold the phone—“boutonnière” conjures up images of that thing one needs to get from a florist for proms and weddings. Do not consider the “boutonnière”; expunge the word “boutonnière” from your repertoire. Consider instead: the buttonhole. True, both terms used to mean the same thing, but in our day, they are truly two separate categories.

The buttonhole debuted on the sartorial stage in 1840, courtesy Prince Albert. Arriving on the English scene to marry Queen Victoria, she presented him with a tiny bunch of flowers. Prince Albert, known for his charming and gentlemanly courtesy, took out his pocket knife, cut a hole in his jacket lapel, and called his tailor to tell him what he had done—and that he wanted a hole in the lapel of all his suit jackets from then on, because it was just the place to put flowers.

We can learn a lot from Prince Albert: He was courteous to a rummy degree; he put others before himself—even if it meant cutting a hole in his suit; and he was prepared for most any happening that may foist itself upon the present moment. In a word, he displayed a particular kindness, kindness being the pure syrup that courtesy and true gentlemanliness boil down to. Specifically, re the flowers Queen Victoria gave to him, Prince Albert showed that her gift was important to him. I’ve no doubt that Prince Albert made her day when he cut that hole in his jacket. This is the type of origin that one hopes to find for something like the buttonhole.

Today, springing forth from this gracious act of Prince Albert, any decent suit has a buttonhole on the jacket lapel, located on the same side as the pocket square pocket, and this button hole almost always has—no flower.

The lapel-flower never did become a hugely popular to-do, and today one could swing a cat by its tale and not hit a chap sporting a flower on the lapel, not to mention a pocket square. Scandalous. Not the swinging cat comment (no cats were actually swung by their tales in the writing of this article), but the naked-suit thing.

It seems that men, by and large, have no idea that the upper pocket on the suit jacket is for a pocket square or handkerchief, nor that the buttonhole on the lapel is for a flower. Nevertheless, while I would not say that a flower on the lapel is de rigueur, I would say that a pocket handkerchief is—the lack thereof is what makes a naked suit. That being said, not wearing a naked suit is a start, a beginning, and not the end—because there is still that unused buttonhole.

Before tromping on, once again expunge the word and image of the “boutonnière” from your mind. We’re not talking here about proms or weddings, but rather the everyday, gentlemanly wearing of a suit. For the everyday suit, we are talking about 1 (one) usually unadorned flower. Yes, it is said Prince Albert wore a small bouquet (though some say it was actually a single flower)—but even sartorial etiquette with a distinguished history can be modified a bit without losing its essence. Hence, today, the single flower in the lapel.

But why? Why wear a buttonhole just because good ol’ Prince Albert wore a buttonhole? In this case, it is not merely a matter of “because it’s tradition.” Rather, we need to look at why Prince Albert did it in the first place, and why he continued to do it after the initiating event. In its origin, again, he did it out of courtesy and kindness. Why did he continue to do it? For the same reason—no longer for the sole reason that Queen Victoria affectionately gave to him the very first buttonhole, but because wearing a flower on the lapel makes the day more pleasant for all one comes across, it spreads beauty and joy and what-not, and displays a truly gentlemanly character—it is the man who appreciates beauty and goodness that wears a flower on his lapel. It is, further, a man of style and panache that dons the buttonhole.

When you first insert the flower into the buttonhole and walk out your front door, you will no doubt be overly sensitive to the fact that there is, well, a flower clinging to your suit jacket. And people will stare a bit—take this as a compliment! Why do they stare? Because they are amazed that there are any men left that still know how to dress with style and elegance. You get used to it after a while, and you will receive compliments. The same thing happens when one places a fine hat on one’s head to go with the suit (I maintain that the everyday hat par excellence is the Fedora): Compliments all over the place.

So, what flowers does one trim the lapel with?

For daytime, red, pink or white Carnations. Carnations are suitable because they last a longish time without water. Carnations also have a close cousin, whose name is Sweet William, another good daytime flower.

In the evening, when one is dressed to the ol’ nines for fewer hours than during the day, give or take, a white or red rose, a Gardenia or a white Orchid fits the bill.

When it comes right down to brass tacks however, you can jolly well stick any flower you want in the buttonhole, if it isn’t too big and the color matches your ensemble.

There are, finally, some important technicalities.

Some suits these days are made with either no buttonhole on the lapel, or else what looks like a button hole yet is sewn shut. These are horrifying tailoring transgressions. While the missing buttonhole is well-nigh beyond correcting (a tailor could make one of course, but it may be too expensive to do so; and a tailor may be able to open that sewn-shut type of buttonhole; or you could do it Prince Albert’s way and use your pocket knife—you’re taking your own chances with that one though, there’s no guarantee it will be a successful venture). The trick is, never, never, never use a pin. If there's no buttonhole, or no useful buttonhole, just stick with a pocket handkerchief.

Most other suits have a buttonhole, but no supporting stem-loop. The stem-loop should be on the reverse side of the lapel and just a bit under the button hole. The stem-loop is often a silk thread, which supports, oddly enough from the name, the stem of the flower. If your suit does not have a silk thread to hold the stem in place, don’t let this stop you—you could still ply the flower, being careful to adjust it now and again, but it’s easy enough for a tailor to simply add a silk thread to the appropriate spot when you have a chance to drop your suit off at the tailor’s shop.

Remember, we’re in good company wearing a buttonhole—if anyone asks why you’re wearing one, tell them about our friend Prince Albert, and that you want to spread joy and sunshine wherever you go. Then leave them with a hearty “Pip-pip” whilst they watch you walk off, amazed that elegant gentlemen still walk the earth.

For more about flowers on the lapel, and other sterling and inside information on suits and men's style, check out A Tailored Suit--one of the very few bespoke tailors in America, making suits on par with those across the pond.

short update

There seems to have been a glitch in feedburner this past week, and some of you may have been knocked off the feedburner email list. The last post date was Wednesday, June 17th. If you have not received this post, just sign up again by typing in your email address at the subscription center to the right of this page.

With vacation now a pleasant memory, regular posts resume this Monday. Pip-pip...

This Fedora Hat Tip goes to...

The Russian [I know, seems a rummy thing] Wodehouse Society. Longing for some good summer reading? No money for books? The Russian Wodehouse Society has a whole bunch of e-books and other great stuff, all Wodehouse. As a famous chappy, whose name I recall at the moment, once said, "It is impossible to be sad while reading Wodehouse-and I've tried." If you need some bucking-up, some fizz put back into the old decanter, look no further, accept no substitutes. You can also find Wodehouse at the Gentleman's Shop for Gentlemen.

As for this week's other posts, it will be a bit spotty, owing to the WDG being on vacation.

Back in a few days, my good gentlemen among gentlemen--toodle-pip!

Suspended Animation

Some gentleman may consider the following excerpt science fiction. But I assure you, the pertinent facts are largely if not 100% almost entirely true.

"What year is it?"

"2009."

"What! How did I get here? It was just 1932!"

"We'll explain that later; first we need to know--if you'll pardon the question--how do you keep your trousers so completely and consistently in the same place? You've no belt!"

"Belt? Suspenders, man!"

Suspenders...braces. They've always been especially popular in the USA and Great Britain, and so the fellow above is likely a native of at least one of those nations. And he may really be from 1932--who wears suspenders anymore? Surprisingly, there are a few that do, though it seems rather rare. So let's give suspenders a moment in the sun, as it were.

Suspenders are around an inch or so in width, button to the waistband, and come in a variety of colors. There are a bundle of advantages that accompany suspenders: they securely keep your trousers in the proper position at all times; suspenders allow air to circulate about and between the shirt and the waste band, which is excellent in the summer time; suspenders have a lengthening effect, since they emphasize the vertical line. Suspenders may even give a fellow a psychological edge--if you know, no matter what, that you're pants are going to stay perfectly in the right position, well, it makes you a dashed bit more confident about life and the rummy happenings that life hurls at a fellow.

Trousers from Italy and Germany, however, aren't usually cut right for suspenders. Look to traditional American outfitters (Brooks Brothers, for example) or the olde English gentleman's clothiers for trousers that are brilliant with suspenders.

But, why did gentlemen trade them for belts, anyway? What caused this switch? Communism? The 1960's? I'm not sure, but once 2-piece suits became the norm, the suspenders were disregarded--with a 3-piece suit, the vest hid the suspenders; when the vest was gone and a lad took his jacket off at the office, there was nothing to hide the suspenders, and so came the belt onto the scene. The interloper.

The belt of course has its place, but there's something about suspenders that keep them in the repertoire: A certain "what's it," a classy, timeless panache.

Lunatic Styles of 2009

Ask the WDG Friday

Francis Greco asks, "What men's styles of 2009 would you not recommend?"

Excellent question, Francis! Take a look at this--the "deep v-neck style for men" [this photo is not for women, children, the nervous or those suffering from anxiety disorders, or weak constitutions:

This is a style I like to call "insane." Last I heard, men are men, women are women--so why are these guys dressing like women? I've no idea. They look, to coin a new word, "weird."

No doubt there are even stranger styles, but this one is a pippin.

Pirates: Not gentleman, but perhaps a few dressed well

From our friends, the Talk Like a Pirate Day founders, we have a reply to the previous post on gentlemen, pirates and the hitherto never explored before connection between the two that is completely but almost not entirely untrue:  

"Ahoy The Well-Dressed Gentleman!

Splendid web site splendidly executed! Ye're a true gentleman and I'll not hold that against ye!

I'll cede the "Gentleman" point gladly! In fact, when lubbers refer to Ol' Chumbucket and meself as "Gentlemen" we're quick to set them straight on the error o' their ways with a torrent o' grunts and oaths that would leave our sainted mothers speechless. However, the question o' "Well Dressed" was left off the table - and let me just say that pirates can be (although more often than not, they fail to be) impeccably dressed.

I've seen pirates dressed "to the nines" looking as resplendent as ye please! Granted, this sort o' garish  focus on finery is rare amongst the brethren o' the coast - but not unheard of.

At any rate, I just wanted to weigh in on the fashion side o' the discussion.

Carry on with yer many splendid gentlemanly endeavors!

Cap'n Slappy"

Can't say better than that!  That is perfect pirate prose, that is.  If it were possible to send those rascally rovers 'o the high seas a few bottles of the best Caribbean rum via the Internet, I would do so.  Alas.  They probably have some on hand at all times anyway.  

I know--you're wondering just who those well-dressed pirates might be.  THAT is a good question!  It may be that our real pirate friends can educate us in that area.  Me, I'm thinking Black Beard perhaps, as far as piratey dress goes.  But as far as gentlemanly dress?  Let us hope we soon have an answer, so we can send the whole pirate/gentleman mystery to rest in Davy Jones locker.

The Great Sartorial Debate

This Wednesday Fedora hat tip is courtesy of our friend at A Tailored Suit, the ATS founder, Antonio Centeno. It's a real gem, this site, all about how our suits are made, what they're made of, types of cloth, and on and on. This site is well-worth a good study:

Made by Hand--The Great Sartorial Debate. "IS A HAND-MADE SUIT ALWAYS BETTER THAN A MACHINE-MADE ONE? RECENT TECHNOLOGY HAS BLURRED A FEW OF THE LINES AND SOMETIMES, THE MACHINE CAN DO A BETTER JOB. BUT WHAT IS BEST STILL DONE THE TRADITIONAL WAY, AND HOW HAS TECHNOLOGY ACTUALLY IMPROVED THE QUALITY OF SOME SUITS?"

The Half-Windsor Knot

After another week-long hiatus, we're pleased to return to the important issue of the essential tie-knots and their usage.  Today's post addresses the next in the classic knots: the half-windsor.  This knot is classified as symmetrical, but smaller and more compact than its namesake, the Full Windsor.  Oddly enough, the half-windsor is not technically related to the Full Windsor, except in its name.  The half-windsor is best suited for ties of thinner material than the four-in-hand, although its size makes it suitable for thicker materials that would not be appropriate for the Full Windsor.

Let us proceed:

1.) Begin, as with the four-in-hand, with the wide end of the tie on your left side; the narrow end will be on your right, about 4 inches above your belt.

2.) Just as with the four-in-hand, cross the wide end over top of the narrow, passing it around the back, creating a loop.

3.) Pass the wide end over the top, securing the first stage of the knot.

4.) Taking the wide end from the back around the front, pass it to the right, creating the final loop.

5.) Pull the wide end of the tie from the back through the front center, and then push through the loop at the front created in step 4.

6.) Adjust and snug the knot to the shirt collar.

7.) Admire.

Step 6 is quite important, inasmuch as the properly snugged and fitted tie completes a the ensemble in a professional manner.  An affected "loosely tied" or otherwise "stylized" knot does not make the wearer "stylish" or "classy," but rather self-important and smug, neither of which are gentlemanly (nor particularly becoming, for that matter).  The tie fits against the collar, not restricting breathing, not bunching the shirt, but resting against it gently.  Do not tie the knot too tightly, and continue to practice, which will guarantee your facility with every possible knot.

As a side note, if you have just completed the morning shave, and have had the misfortune of nicking yourself, be cautious about the shirt-collar, which will become blood-stained.  Use the styptic pencil, a good aftershave, and a bit of toilet paper to stanch the bleeding and save the shirt collar the dose of "Spray and Wash" that evening.  If you do happen to bleed on the collar, fear not, since the dried blood will come out if promptly and appropriately treated and laundered in the evening.  A future post will deal with the joys and sorrows of shaving, and the particular class to be gained from the classic wet shave, with either a straight razor or the double-edged "safety" razor.

Happy tying!

The Well-Groomed Gentleman

The Etiquette of Names and Listening

The Etiquetted Gentleman V

You’re walking down the street.  Coming straight at you is a beautiful girl you met a few weeks ago, single, eyes with stars in them, and her name is…Great Scot, what is her name?  You meet each other’s gaze, she says “Hi Rollo,” you say, “Hey…you!” The result?  Her face falls, her eyes no longer have stars in them, they rather contain the visage of nuclear explosions, and she slaps you, and walks away. 

We can glean 2 very important lessons from this chilling tale:

1. Are you aware that you’re name isn’t Rollo?  You want to get this one right straight off the bat;
2. The correct reply to this unfortunate situation is “Whew”—do you really want to marry a girl who slaps you at the drop of a hat?  I mean, because she’s mad?

In a word, forgetting names is like removing the rabbit-proof fence from around the carrots.  How many jobs have been foregone, marriages never contracted, reputations ruined, and slaps on the face incurred due to name-forgetting?  There’s no poll, of which I am aware, that tell us these hair-raising statistics, so we can make up our own realistic numbers based on a professionally uneducated guess: Millions. 

Memory is a truly gentlemanly facility to practice and strengthen. There are a number of ways to do this—try to recall the scenery about you as you walk, what the buildings look like, what tie that guy is wearing, the name of your kids, perhaps your mother-in-law as well, etc.  This shows people not only respect, but it buoys up your reputation as a gentleman who is smart, pays attention, is respectful, and above all, treats people as they should be treated—with dignity.

Names are particularly important though, because they are so personal—when remembered, it strengthens (or establishes) bonds of friendship and camaraderie; people notice when you remember their names.  You no doubt notice when someone remembers your name. 

Here is one practical and proven method to develop a memory for names, thanks to a fellow named Henry Clay, who was pretty rotten at remembering names.  He had just entered a career in law and figured he had to do something to correct this embarrassing fault.  So, every night before he went to bed he would recall the names of everyone he had met that day.  He then wrote those names in a notebook, and repeated the list the next morning.  You can guess what happened—after a while he came to have a reputation as a fellow who knew many names but assigned them to all the wrong people because he wasn’t getting enough sleep. Wait, no—that’s the story of Rumpelstiltskin and the Three Bears.  Henry Clay, on the other hand, was esteemed by all and sundry because he did in fact remember correctly everyone’s name, and never forgot them.  People like this; especially relatives.  

Listening to people is also the mark of a gentleman.  This can get tricky when one is listening to a variety of, I will be blunt, annoying people:  the close talker, the guy who won’t stop talking about himself, the guy who talks at you rather than with you, someone who has not yet discovered the joys of deodorant, and so on. 

Yet still, as a preux chevalier, we listen attentively, and make comments here and there to show that we have been listening and understand them.  Where our impulses and dislikes are liable to cause pain to another they must be controlled and put aside.  In our modern world of getting what we want, when we want it—in a word, a world that emphasizes indulging in selfishness—this can be a pretty hefty order to swallow.  But the result otherwise is that we turn away from others with manifest disgust or annoyance, and one is guilty not only of an ungentlemanly, but of a cruel, act.  

There is a famous saying:  “Be kind—be kind, and you’ll be a Saint.” It’s slightly simplistic of course, but it serves to make an excellent point: Kindness requires putting oneself aside and being truly concerned about the "other."  

Lest we leave a loophole, remember—it's bad form to talk about someone in a negative way behind their back, the only exception being for a quite serious reason.  Viz, if someone is rude, annoying or has not taken a shower in the past year, say nothing; if someone says they are really mad and going to kill someone, probably a good idea to say something.

Well, there it is, er--I'm sorry, what's your name again?

Flowers in the Lapel and Autumn Weight Summer Wear

Ask the WDG Friday

One Mr. Tom Laurie asks, “Does anyone still wear a flower in the buttonhole of the jacket lapel?”

Ah, Mr. Laurie. Sadly, almost no one seems to do this anymore. I’m not sure why it is, but many men seem to wear a suit as a fireman wears his fire gear—not for style, not to look dapper, but as a necessary element. Granted, there is a bit of the “necessary element” to the suit, or to the dress pants/blazer combination. But when it comes to suits and the like, that shouldn’t be the main thing—if a lad simply dons a suit because it’s required, and only dons the bare minimum, then where's the snap? The pizazz? The personal touch? It's the, "a suit is just a uniform" attitude that accounts (at least in part) for the lack of style or dapperness. How many men wear a suit, or other fine ensemble, because it’s fun? Because they look smashing? Because a fine ensemble makes the world a more beautiful place? Because it shows respect for ourselves and those around us? Or, because it's timelessly classic? For those of us who do dress up for these reasons, you will no doubt find a good-ish number that wear a flower in the old lapel buttonhole. It’s just that we’re in the minority, so not oft seen.

But, to be completely fair, there are only two ways to get a live flower—stop at the store every time one goes out, or grow one’s own. In my case, I have a bunch of flowers growing about the yard, including rose bushes, and so I can just pop back there and find the right sized flower. Not residing in a tropical clime, I can only do this in the late Spring and throughout the Summer. The rest of the year, I’m afraid my lapel is sans flower. But if you can get one, or grow some, wearing a flower on the lapel is an extraordinarily dapper move. It exhibits that timeless class, style and dapperness. People will stare a bit—but only because so few men dress like a modern day Beau Brummel these days and can't believe their eyes, which seem to say, "Wow, people still dress that way!"

Whatever you do, remember—plastic or silk flowers are a fashion faux pas of a pretty serious sort; there’s only one occasion when you can wear a fake flower, and that’s if there’s a plastic tube going from the flower to a squeeze bottle of water in your pocket.

Regarding flower size, you surely don’t want one that’s too big. I would estimate a flower about half the size of the lapel where the button hole is located. As for color, try to make it coordinate with your ensemble as best you can. White goes with most anything (except a white or very light jacket). If you’re going to grow some, pick a color or colors that will most often match with what you wear. Doesn’t have to be a rose bush, it can be any properly sized, pleasant looking (and smelling) flower.

And don’t forget the pocket square—another element that many men neglect. Again, white goes with almost anything, but you can coordinate the color with whatever it is you’re wearing (though the pocket square is usually coordinated with the tie). There are also different manners of employing the pocket square. Take a look here and here for ideas; you can also research photos and movies from the 1920’s to the 1950’s to see how men back in the day folded them.

With that, I say thanks for the good question, Tom!

Autumn-Weight Summer Wear

It’s a sunny summer day, and feels beautifully like autumn, a brisk 60 or so degrees. This may not happen where you live, but in the mid-west of America as of late, that’s been the clime. It’s a time to be a bit creative, wearing the proper summer colors, but in a weight that fits the weather.

Here is but one sample of many possible ideas:

Pants—light color, lighter than khaki, even white, but in a heavier weight then normal—corduroy strength or slightly lighter.

Dress Shirt—white, white with thin stripes, or other light color (blue perhaps).

Jacket—dark blue, of the typical navy-blue blazer with gold buttons-type blue, but in Harris Tweed.

Tie—knit, since the thick Harris Tweed jacket requires a heavier weight tie. If not, say, a knit silk tie, then a tie of a heavier fabric, such as cashmere or wool.

Hat—of course! A brown Fedora or an English Driving Cap fits the bill nicely.