I've thought about this a lot, and I think the short answer is that it's about a lot more than clothes. Clothes are just the most obvious symptom of a deeper malaise. A poster on here hit the nail on the head when he noted that the key thing was the almost complete erasure of any sense of occasion, appropriateness or formality. I think this is related to a general rejection of authority in the West which has been brewing since the post-war years, and shows no sign of running out of steam yet. There are things to be said both for and against this trend, but I think sartorially we have definitely lost out. I know that as the pendulum swings one way, it is sure to swing back the other, but I don't see it happening any time soon.

You’ve only got to look at the average high street to see where half the problem lays. If you’re in an average small town, mens clothing options will be JD sports, Millets, Trespass and charity. Larger towns will have a larger JD Sports,  and the usual suspects, Next. Primark. River Island. Out of town? even bigger JD Sports, TKMaxx.
In my experience it’s the smaller towns that mostly have hoards of males swaggering or shuffling round in jogging bottoms and hoodies. I’m sure there’s a much deeper issue than just availability. But I’m at peace with it. Hey! It makes the rest of us look better.
Like AFS, I couldn’t go out without putting thought into what I’m wearing. I’m low on time in the mornings (school run etc.) and have really noticed the benefits in taking the time to work out what I’m wearing tomorrow, do any ironing, polishing etc. and hanging it up ready to go. Even shaving properly with DE razor.
When I walk out the door in the morning I feel happy that I’ve made the effort. Even if a quick glance around shows I was the only one.

The best you can do is lead by example isn't it? I grew up with Uncles who had their shirts, suits and shoes handmade, and was taught to polish my shoes by my grandad. Every place I've ever lived, one of the first things I've done is find a good local tailor. Now I'm teaching my own boys. I think every generation will have a few people who care enough to make an effort. It keeps the flame alive.

^ I sympathise.  My son-in-law and putative son-in-law both dress like shirt.  My brother-in-law (well, one of them) dresses well: former Northern Soul devotee/Casino all-nighters.  Shines his shoes on a regular basis.  Those working class values were of the utmost importance.

.............Or, maybe a slightly different train of thought, but, maybe this 'golden time' we're referring to was a relatively short lived period? Starting to show itself around the start of the 1900s, maybe later, and fading by the mid - late century? Just a blip?

How well turned out would the average, whatever the equivalent of 'lower middle class' man, be in Brixton, Glasgow, Rome or Michigan in say, 1742? Not much in the way of clothes shops. Less so hot running water. Not an option to pick out a shirt if all you've got is the clothes you've sewn yourself into for winter and the boots/clogs/bare feet you're standing in. And no point if the only option you've got for getting out is a walk to the other side of the village to look at the dung hill again.

A few years ago there was a history mini series 'Filthy Cities' - London, Paris, New York. I mean, until comparatively recently 99% of these people lived in abject squalor by todays standards. Dressing and carrying themselves 'correctly' just wouldn't have been on the agenda. Eating. Not catching The Plague. Avoiding the wrath of God. That's what they would have been concerned about.

Going way back, Possibly too far to properly illustrate the point, The Romans were scornful of the British as they spent too much time painting themselves blue, getting out of it on suspect herbal potions and endlesslesy scrapping with each other. Doesn't sound that far removed from Yates's Wine Lodge on a Friday night?

I'm not saying we're not fighting the good fight. We are right. But maybe we're battling against something that's been in the DNA of the average man for a very long time?

LOL!  You and me both, SB.  Those movies...  I can see Leslie Halliwell's books on the shelf directly in front of me...  My period, 1929 to circa 1941...

We have a nice collection of those late 30s/40s British films.  'Millions Like Us', 'Cottage To Let', 'Next Of Kin', 'Went The Day Well?'  Watched many times over.  Those who haven't seen their work should check out Powell and Pressburger, beginning with 'Edge Of The World' (Powell before Pressburger) and perhaps ending with 'The Red Shoes' (a great favourite of Scorsese, echoed in the irritating 'Shutter Island').  'A Canterbury Tale' should not be missed.  Over at Ealing, everything by Robert Hamer is worth watching, including the 'Mirror' sequence in 'Dead Of Night'.

Lots of stomach complaints on both sides of the water.  The Romans favoured a kind of rich fish sauce that often laid them low. 
Jane Grigson once quipped that when William came over in 1066 he left his chef behind.  A travel writer I once read spoke of British hotels and restaurants serving food 'more in anger than sorrow'.  That was in 1928.  Len Deighton blamed the development of cheap cast iron stoves.  Byng and Dickens were both down on English cooking and the way it was served. 
The Turks on the other hand provide service with a smile, their women are often delightful to look at, they bring warm bread to the table and, once you've eaten it, they bring you more.  They also bring you tasty little dishes in which to dip the bread.  I have never had a bad or overpriced Turkish meal. 
Does anyone know of a good Jewish restaurant in London?  Hasn't Bloom's gone?  I've sometimes dabbled with Jewish food but have not eaten it in a restaurant since visiting Venice (Hasidic food: very good). 
English food can be very good - but where do you come across an English restaurant?

According to their website: 'Cooking with fresh seasonal produce, offering no-nonsense British food with an eclectic mix from around the globe.' It's a restaurant and champagne bar. For some reason I have a visceral antipathy towards champagne bars.

Last edited by Yuca (2021-12-06 12:19:22)

I’m sure you’re all aware of the Brooklyn-based movement that celebrates everything bespoke and well-made and old-fashioned and long lasting? They may not be wearing Ivy, but they’re well put out; modern-day dandies who care about their beard oil and their selvedge and their vintage this and that. It’s gastronomic too.

Jdemy, could you tell us more?  I'm certainly in the dark on more or less anything to do with Brooklyn, other than that I used to buy books online from a secondhand dealer there.  Did you know vintage American paperbacks have a completely different smell to, say, Pan?  True.

You're all bang on about the old movies — total immersion leads to inspiration from the strangest quarters. And Spendthrift, yes, good point; the pleasure of well-made clothes are a luxury only afforded those who can count on the next meal.

I have a theory, that made to measure, off the peg clothing put the writing on the wall for quality mass market clothing. That might seem paradoxical, as we're here on a forum celebrating the golden age of ready-to-wear, but consider this: I collect vintage men's magazines, and read the clothes columns with interest. What strikes me most forcefully is that from the 30s through to the 50s, all the sartorial questions concern cut and material. Time again, somebody will ask, 'I've just come back from such-and-such, and all my suits are tropical worsted, what weave would you recommend to get me through winter?' Or 'I'm looking for a raglan overcoat, would Melton or a Donegal be best?'.

I cannot recall a case where the reader requests, or the magazine recommends, an actual brand. Now soon enough this would all be swept away of course. A British analogy might be the 'Don't Be Vague, Ask For Haig' effect, whereby the emphasis in the public eye moves away from cuts, style and materials to labels, brands, and eventually designers. The result? Roll on sixty years and who's going to bet that any ten men on the street could tell one tweed from another, a darted jacket from a sack, a goodyear welt from a glued sole. The manufacturers have won. They have shaped a clueless consumer, who they can supply with any old third world sweatshop nylon rubbish, so long as it has the right label on it.

Rant over.