Gentlemen, thanks for the info on 'summer' tweeds. I ask because I had a tweed jacket made up last year in Holland & Sherry 'Gamekeeper' tweed.  Its stiffly ungainly and because I messed up with the tailor its corsetted (even on the arms) and I can't wear a jumper beneath without effecting my breathing.  Its also too hot when you walk or get on a tram or train.  I need something less warm.

Formby is spot on about the North West of England, I'm from there, from the banks of the muddiest of rivers, the Mersey. Its gritty-cineme -verite-tough-working-class-realism is light years away from the lives of those "southern pansies" from Laandan;  Sadly, having travelled the globe and I am now living in Holland, there's few places where walking in a bar, with the 'wrong' accent and dressed 'incorrectly' can get your head well and truly kicked in.  The UK remains tribal, just look at the football rivalry/violence between Newcastle and Sunderland the 'mak'ums and tak'ums.'  Or the secterainism that remains in Northern Ireland and parts of Scotland. Not to mention the lingering class system and the long dark shadows of those dark satanic mills.

Fortunately, when I wear tweed to the office in the Hague, they think I'm a country gent from good stock with a large collection of viyella shirts and a stately home languishing in the Cotswolds. But you do have to get the tweed right, as Formby stated, certain tweed has the old musty smell of old geography/geology teachers and ugly memories of O Levels and CSE's.  Despite all the chavs, and the reality, to be a quintessential English gent, is still respected the world over, but for how long?  And if I don't wear EG's or bespoke John Lobb (Paris or London?!) am I just a fraud, just another grunt in a suit, who couldn't live up to the sartorial utopia as so aptly advocated on LL and other such sites at six grand a go?

Last edited by The Ace Face (2009-07-12 02:02:59)

Dudes, you will do well to remember, that even in the bitterest mid-winter, the average scouser on a night out in Liverpool is only wearing a shirt. Anyone with a pinstripe suit is liable for some serious flak.  Same in Madchester and Newcastle.  Its sartorial insanity where the label is king, along with Incontinence pants Kick circa 1982.