Those brushed cotton shirts that every young schoolboy in the 1950s wore are enough to exclude grey as a shirt colour for adults. They were worn with terylene short trousers, grey wool knee socks and grey knitwear. I would still wear grey knitwear and trousers but there is something about the shirts. Same goes for grown men wearing shorts in the UK unless they are playing sport or on a beach .

Yellow is difficult unless you have blonde hair or the right skin tone.

Black is fine in an overcoat.

Madras for shirts only but I would wear a tartan tie -never a jacket or trousers.

Beats me.  I met Ian Curtis a week or so before he died and he seemed a normal, likeable sort of bloke.  I had an eighteen year old with enormous boobs go all dewy-eyed on me when I told the (brief) tale.  It was as though I'd jammed with Parker and Gillespie on VE Day in some dank New York basement.  Funny the way folks are over Dylan, Hendrix, Curtis, Cobain and the entire maudlin/hippy roll-call.

^ What is to say ?

It would be alright if was just going to bed. Looks like he already has his pyjama bottoms and slippers on.

Maybe he is Italian? So someone who would rightly be called a Wally in England is transformed into sartorial stylist. Anyway it is close to 'catwalk' and should not really concern us.

Oh, now the Torch Society is listening to Ornette Coleman... Is it our fault?

It's a little bit like reading Joyce in a "special school", I guess, but I hope it will do no harm...

Passionately put, Hank - I could see how he might not have done a Lenny Bruce in terms of winning friends and influencing people (or am I thinking of Carnegie?) - but, under cover of darkness, I enjoy reading malicious jibes about sacred cows.  Remember Orwell on socialism?  Stalin on the Second Front?  You don't have to agree with a syllable of it, but it kind of thickens up the blood.  I'd have liked to have seen SC go head to head with GG.

As Uncle would say: maybe?

To be fair - and Hard Bop, Alex and Jesmond all know far more about this than I - there is a wide spectrum.  Ivy style in the beginning always appears more playful to my way of thinking than virtually anything that came after.  Italy post-war was probably more colour-interesting in some ways than the United States.  Then the orthodoxies of the Eisenhower years came into being.  What was it?  Five and a half days a week thou shalt be monochrome, and on Saturday afternoon, on the golf course, you might risk a Drizzler...? 
Don't even ask about England until around 1967.  London maybe, but not England.  (I know Roger Burton might dispute this.  So might Lloyd Johnson).  A smack around the head for looking in the mirror?  Sounds about right.  Former skinheads I know have mellowed down into their polo shirts and smart cardigans from Gant or Katherine H.  Dull. 
Adam, I'm getting on now; take no notice, son.