We've all done it haven't we? Attracted by a passing fancy we callously turn away from our one true love and indulge in a foolish dalliance that ultimately leaves us looking foolish. It happened to me in the early 90s. I was approaching 30 and was worried the dusty old Ivy look was inhibiting the adequate and fulfilling expression of my libidinous inclinations. An attractive and flirty young sales assistant at The Gap on Long Acre threw some love beads in with my pocket Ts and I took it as a sign to dabble with the dreaded 'Acid Jazz Look'. A photo exists of me in a fitted sleeveless cardigan with nothing on underneath. It's a shocking sight to behold, my pale beefy upper arms making me look more like a brickie than the bongo player with Galliano. And I've done it a few times over the years, experimenting with fit, colour, and trendier styles. Even at the time I co-wrote The Ivy Look I was getting fed up with Ivy, wearing Paraboots, workwear and a Stetson cap when I went to New York with Graham Marsh to meet the people from Kamakura. Graham looked at me with barely disguised contempt. Such dabbling has always been a mistake. Now at the age of 57 I feel I may finally have settled into a cosy, reassuring acceptance that my version of The Ivy Look is what really works for me, as, of course, it does for most men. I wore a tweed tie today, and a cord suit, and heavy wingtips and it felt absolutely completely perfect. I invite readers to share their stories of affairs of the cloth that tempted them, and how it all went so horribly wrong.
I was big into that mod thing in my early twenties. I knew it was wrong somehow but I was tempted to the dark side by the allure of tab-collar shirts and covered buttons.
I had five suits made, owned a baby-pink Macintosh and wore through a number of pairs of Domincan weejuns on dance-floors. All terribly terribly sordid.
Eventually I started leaning more toward Americana, if not out-and-out Ivy.
I deeply regret not having paid more attention to what JS was trying to sell me on my frequent visits to Russell Street - and what my Father had worn for probably the bulk of his life. I don't own a single Keydge for example.
I think I'm only really starting to see the light now - I'm rapidly approaching 40 and I wonder if that has anything to do with it.
I do long for good quality shoes in varying shapes, soft collar rolls and possibly the most envied thing of all - looking like I've not thought about it or made an effort, despite that being entirely contrary to the truth.
As an old, long term mod, it would be easy to paint a picture of myself living in tailor made suits and bespoke basket weave shoes. But in the early stages I poured over Carnaby Cavern catalogs and wore every single piece of mod tat going. Skin tight burgundy sta press, acrylic jerseys with hoops and arrows, parka, badges, patches. White towelling socks. The lot. I did stop short at Jam shoes though.
A short lived Scooter Boy stint saw a green MA1 with oxblood Dr Marten monkey boots. Black Fred Perry. Oh, and a camouflage Gore-Tex army parka.
Just into my thirties I realised I’d never meet a woman dressed like any of the above and just wore ‘normal’ stuff for the time. Baggy jeans, striped department store non bd shirts. ‘Clubbing’ shoes. All probably from Debenhams.
Having successfully met that woman I almost immediately fell for workwear. Boots. Big turn ups, henley long sleeve T’s and newsboy caps. When I caught my double denim reflection in a shop window and realised I’d clearly left my wood splitting axe at home, it was time to jack that look.
A very brief return to the scooter scene, with a slight interest in suedehead style, though not wanting to revisit mod or look skinhead, and with a renewed interest in The Style Council. Buzzing round the internet and ‘Ivy League’ kept popping up. Hmmm. This looks like something a man in his late thirties can do?
I totally empathise with Tim’s last point there. Still trying to crack that one.
Under the influence of Patrick Nahman, I attempted the 'unified' look, but realised it took a greater financial commitment than I could make (remembering that Paddy probably benefited from 'the pink pound'; I had two daughters). Besides, impulse and perversity had me experimenting with Don Richards and Nortex, deck jackets and the occasional work shirt (strictly USA). The footwear, however, remained the same as before, ranging from wingtips to canvas sneakers. My daughters have now, thank Christ, fled (or abandoned) the nest, so the 'unified' look might now be a possibility.
Fashions change. Nothing remains forever.
We don’t still dress like Gladstone, Disraeli or Neville Chamberlain.
I had some horrible loon pants in the early 1970s and those terrible shirts with collars like a beagle’s ears and prints on them. I always had decent shoes though - never any stack heel monstrosities.
Suits were three piece, wide lapel jobs as favoured by Bob in ‘The Likely Lads’. Wide ties to match.
I used to study my Carnaby Cavern catalogue as if it were a precious scripture. Before that I had a Melandi catalogue. All complete tat. Not only badly made - forgivable for kids' gear perhaps - but fugly and unimaginative. Still, Carnaby Cavern must have made money hand over fist for a few years.
My worst look was about ten years ago.
My wife went to an international business school in Holland and every few years someone hosts a reunion in their native country.
One of the guys booked a group of us into the seaside village he grew up in. A place called Higgins Beach in Maine. I couldn't wait as we were flying into Boston and were planning on spending some time there also.
I decided that a quick wardrobe refresh was in order. Most of my wife's friends are very casual in their appearance so I wanted a smart but casual look. It's what I envisioned the East Coast to be all about.
I purchased a number of Ralph Lauren shirts that were a cross between a rugby shirt and polo. Ralph was going through this design phase of adding on crests, numerals and patches. Very smart I thought. Elevates the humble sports shirt into something more elegant. Lots of hoops in contrasting shades. This is expensive but sharp.
How wrong was I.
Higgins Beach is pretty small place with very little car parking so most of the people you see actually live there. Each morning before ten the beach is open to dog walkers or those looking to take a morning stroll to catch up with their neighbours .
First morning I decided to take a similar stroll wearing my latest finery. It's hard to imagine how stupid I looked. It was like I'd jumped out of a high street window in costume into a sea of men and women wearing very simple yet elegant clothing. Not a logo in sight. Polo shirts and khaki shorts looked sun faded and had a relaxed fit. Sperry Billfish were popular with men of all ages. The colour pallet was subdued. They weren't wearing an affectation of East Coast living this was the genuine thing.
In the evenings again it was a simple masculine wardrobe of a navy blazer, freshly ironed khakis and loafers. Nothing shouty. No statements.
My interpretation of classic USA style was so far off the mark it was comparable to wearing a Saville Row suit to play football in.
A few days into the holiday I discovered their secret. LL Bean was about half an hour away and a trip there was on the cards.
Alvey, this is all very, very reassuring - and very much the look I tend to go with (so, forget Nortex, Derby, Peters and Catalina jackets, Don Richards overcoats, Gucci driving shoes, 'rugged' Filson work wear etc.): this is straight out of those Bean/Sebago catalogues I used to love so much years ago.
I've been casting a fresh eye over Ralph Lauren and coming up with some decent items. The majority, however, still seems to be cack. TRS puzzled over their output many moons ago; Yuca has never been enticed. But I'll be wearing their chinos, polo shirts and shorts just as soon as the weather turns milder. I have several logo-free polo shirts, including a sand-coloured RL with a pocket. But I'll probably wear a Pendleton or Smedley cardigan over it.
Sperry or Sebago in white or - what? - tan? - certainly. Sounds like the kind of thing our esteemed poster Spendthrift might feel comfortable in.
Also reminds me of what my father wore - naturally - a polo shirt, Levis and Nunn Bush boat shoes.
(In the meanwhile, however, I remain layered, as was the case during my walk this morning: Woolrich shirt, fleece vest, Russell Athletic sweatshirt, 'Walls'' down vest. Each and every item Made In The USA. As are my 501s).
AFS,
Yes, your father would have fitted right in.
I find the big problem with RL is that's not a singular entity. Lots of different looks, different price points for different channels, variable qualities. I tend not to bother with country of origin too much as in my experience some of the clothes, from non-USA sources, can be as good or better.
Do you consider that as we get older the desire to attract attention or comments wanes so you look for something that resonates more on a personnel level? In short we dress more for ourself than for what might be expected.
You got me there AFS. Two pairs of canvas Sperry CVO's purchased so far this year (one white, one navy). Both sitting eager in readiness for preppy season to begin proper, after my ill advised false start a month or so ago.
I think our look changes somewhat when we've stopped trying to pull.
I get the odd compliment from women on my Ray-Bans. Nothing else.
My only non-USA RL item is from the Philippines and has had plenty of wear over the winter: a flannel Black Watch.
I should think the old man, when not buttering up Michael Cuscuna or hanging around Tower, did most of his shopping in the malls around Hartford, then wherever in Maryland his jazz-loving mate moved to in the 90s. He was utterly un-self-conscious about what he wore. 'Ivy League? What's that, duck'?
'I did stop short at Jam shoes though.'
Me too. But unfortunately I did have a pair of bowling shoes. (From Melandi I think.) Maybe with Levis they would have actually looked ok but with my Cavern crap it was a car crash.
Last edited by Yuca (2022-03-17 13:02:16)
I also had bowling shoes. Black with white soles. Some sort of idea of going the full Weller with a Lonsdale T shirt and dogtooth sta press.
Never wore them.