Fashion is the ever-changing, narrow focus of the most attention-deficit-disordered sliver of the population. It is not a study in aesthetics or what looks good; in fact, I would say that much of what I have seen paraded down runways at fashion shows is an assault to aesthetics, delivered by anorexic, lifeless, genderless celery-stalks whose gaits and facial expressions that suggest to me that they have no reason to live (even though they’re not short people).

Fashion is favored by those who are interested in clothing for entertainment, not function. Fashion has been cycling away for the past few centuries. I’m not here to convince people to stop being interested in fashion or to try to stop people from wasting money and resources on it, to prevent the needless release of carbon dioxide into our already-sweltering atmosphere as crates of these overpriced goods are shipped hither from third-world countries where unsentimental peasants work in sweatshops for salaries higher than they had ever dreamed of making in the rice paddies. No, fashion will march on, and I will remain standing still, or perhaps drifting very slowly, but not marching lockstep with fashion. My purpose here is to explain why it is that I personally hate fashion.

A few minutes ago I was reading various fashion articles from the New York Times fashion section. It is absurd that every season demands a new set of “looks,” which all seem completely random and arbitrary to me. I sense a lack of continuity, of pedigree, of connectedness. Fashion seems to me to be the random musings of a few designers who produce something new every season with the hope that persons of weak moral fiber will be duped into discarding their existing vestments so as to have the newest stuff. The items’ primary draw is not their actual aesthetic accomplishments but rather their price tag. Sensible common sense in design seems not to have been in the minds of the designers of, for example, the latest tight jeans (which arrive pre-ruined) or the latest ridiculously high heels (which account for 75% of the average podiatrist’s business).

While I agree that clothing important to us for more than its original, protective function, clothes are no throwaway items. I intend to use my clothes until they have been expended, not until those who sell clothes have decided that it is time for me to buy something new.

Perhaps I could be accused of having an anti-female bias. Indeed, women’s clothing is far more fashion-driven than men’s. Men’s clothing changes very slowly. The suits on the racks in August of 2011 will not look much different from the ones we see now. A man in a tennis (polo) shirt and trousers from the year 1950 would hardly stand out more today than he would have in 1965. Perhaps the trousers would be cut a bit large in the thighs, or the placket on the polo shirt might be cut a bit differently from what we’re used to, but this would be apparent only to the keen observer. On the contrary, women are much more expected to conform to present thinking in fashion.

This talk of gender, however, is irrelevant. Gender is only an accidental factor in this. There are members of both genders who are and who are not interested in fashion. My point is that I find fashion irksome. I do not believe that the people who decide what is to be “fashionable” are qualified to decide such. The desire to have the latest look is a vile corruption of the easily distracted, lightweight mind, a useful asset to our hunter-gatherer ancestors, but today a mere tumbleweed blowing in the winds of change. Worst of all, I see fashion as a channel for jealousy, and a means by which those direly lacking self-confidence may deride others.

When those fashion people can concentrate for more than five minutes on one topic despite the penetrating infatuations of their shallow brains, and when they decide that they want to talk about clothes that actually look good, then maybe I’ll let them enter my house through some entrance other than the doggy door. Yes, I realize that their ridiculous clothes make it impossible to bend over enough to get through that doggy door. It doesn’t bother me because I don’t have a doggy door, and so I guess the idea that I’d even let them into my house is moot.

The cutting edge dulls fast, but a baseball bat never needs sharpening.

Somewhere near the ankle, the pants must end. There a few practical reasons for this, the most important one being that the pants can’t have an infinite length and have to end somewhere. Second, the pants can’t be too long or they’d interfere with walking and other ordinary activities.

Exactly where the pants end is a real compromise. On one hand, there is the desire to have pants that are long enough and actually cover the ankle, and, on the other, there is the desire to keep the pants neatly draped and out of the way.

American tradition prefers that, for cuffed trousers, the hem rest gently on the top of the shoe with no “break,” or wrinkling in the pants. For uncuffed trousers, the hem is cut slightly longer in the back (to cover the ankle better), and there is a slight break. This breaks (PUN!) from European tradition, which favors no break at all.

For the past fifteen years or so, very long pants have been favored. Men often wear pants that have considerable bunching at the ankle, even in the back. This is not just a slight “break.” This is wholesale wrinkling and scrunching of the trouser material. The even drape of the pants is completely ruined for the last 6 inches of the trouser leg. This is possible thanks to tapered pants; pants with a wide ankle opening would interfere with walking if the pants were cut too long.

Perhaps you are wondering what’s wrong with pants that are too long. You might point out the advantage that, if the ankle is narrow enough, the trouser material does not interfere with walking and the high-water problem is completely avoided. I, on the other hand really think that the excess length looks sloppy. The bunching of the fabric around the ankles creates this awkward juxtaposition of wide and narrow. It reminds me of the 80′s exercise girl look with the scrunched up leg warmers.

For another thing, a short man does himself a disservice to wear his pants bunched around his ankles. The bunching shortens the apparent length of the leg: instead of being one, long, uniform rectangle of trouser, it is a slightly shorter rectangle with another segment beneath it–divide and conquer is how one decreases apparent length, which is why vertical stripes de-emphasize width. For the man who is so tall and narrow that he wishes to de-emphasize his length, he’d probably be lucky to find excessively long pants anyway, so for him excessively long pants are a non-issue.

Admittedly, the opposite problem, high-waters, pants of inadequate length, are an extreme to be avoided as well. Steve Urkel, nerd icon of the 90′s sitcom Family Matters, wore high-waters that were a salient feature of the caricature. Generally speaking, a man’s socks should not be visible when he is standing in still air. That said, I have noticed some fashion-forward men having higher hems. Indeed, such a look was popular in the 20′s, especially among men displaying their spats. Of course, now men are displaying their hairless ankles and sock tan lines, the diametric opposite of spats. I admire these men for breaking (PUN!) from the slouchy, baggy look. I can’t say that I’m going to sport the highwaters, but I appreciate the change in direction.

Here are some pictures that I took for demonstration:

Too Much Break

Too Little Break

This picture reserved for Goldilocks

Many today use a plain black suit for all of those purposes. Some “traditionalists” like to scorn the black suit, although I have no idea where they get this “traditionalist” notion from, since historically men have worn black suits for all occasions. One thing is certain, however, and that is that a black suit, while it will never lose you points with the sartorially inclined, will never gain you points. I have a black suit, but I haven’t worn it in 2 years except for the two times I’ve checked it for fit and mothing.

Let’s take four examples and consider what kind of suit might be desired.

1. The festive suit: For a strictly social engagement, such as a party, a wedding, or a night out on town, the usual conservatism can be relaxed. I suggest avoiding suits in black, a color to be reserved for black and white tie. A festive atmosphere encourages individuality in the form of pinstripes, windowpane, herringbone, or even a subtle glen plaid or houndstooth. Consider a color more interesting than black, like charcoal, navy, or brown. In the summertime, such options as khaki, white, striped seersucker, greyish-olive, and light blue are available (many will dispute the light blue–all I’m saying is that it’s an option for those who are so inclined, a number that does not include me, who owns no light blue suits). There are even bolder options for those who indulge in the ephemeral excesses of fashion. Nevertheless, those who wear a plain black suit for festive occasions convey a lack of originality in an environment where original, funny, outgoing personalities thrive.

2. The court suit: Few people spend much time in court, but there are environments similar to courtrooms where polished, neat, conservative, yet unadorned appearances are desirable. For example, a manager meeting with the owner to discuss bad performance, an entrepreneur meeting with his investors to ask for more money, or anyone before his superiors for a punitive chewing-out. In all of these cases, the man wishes to appear professional, competent, and polished, yet he does not want to project opulence, excess, or flashiness. A simple tie is ideal, along with a cheap watch; and french cuffs are probably unwise. Looking too flashy could convey the message that the man is some kind of high-roller who doesn’t need mercy or sympathy. Think humility.

A plain black suit might actually work as a court suit. Medium or dark charcoal would be better, though, if for no other reason than that dust and lint do not show up as much on charcoal. Navy is well-suited to this purpose as well. Patterned fabrics are to be avoided. This suit should be as unadorned as possible–even pinstripes would start to suggest the flashiness that we talked about earlier. If pinstripes are the only option, duller and farther-spaced are better. The cut should be as conservative as possible. Lapels should be notched (double-breasted suits are probably too strong a choice) and regulation width–nothing noticeably wide or narrow. The jacket should be single- or double-vented and should have at most a moderate amount of shoulder padding and waist suppression. The trousers should be medium width, tapered or straight leg, certainly not flared (which doesn’t really look good anyway). Skinny and baggy suits should be avoided. The pants should be worn no more than 2 or 3 inches below the navel. Stay away from slip-on shoes, interesting collars, bold ties, flashy rings, pocket squares (handkerchiefs okay–you’re so sorry you might start weeping, right?), lapel pins, colored shirts, watch chains, or anything exotic.

You may have noticed that I gave very specific criteria for a court suit. I have done so because of the intense scrutiny faced when delivering bad news, begging for mercy, or defending oneself. The goal is that few will notice the suit, and that those who do will be pleased to see that the man has followed all of the guidelines.

3. The Professional Suit, a.k.a. The Interview Suit: The professional has a different task. When times are good, it’s good for the professional’s suit to impress people and convey a sense of creativity (creativity is the most desperately needed skill in today’s workforce, executives say). Of course, an excess of creativity could come across a bit strong–one wouldn’t want to give the interviewer a weird impression. The wise man surveys the place beforehand to discover the ordinary dress code. Whatever one’s prospective colleagues are wearing should be the candidate’s base line. Some might say to dress exactly like the others do, I would say to dress just a notch above them because your interviewer will likely suspect that you’re a bit dressed up for the occasion, so this is your way of letting that interviewer know that, once the drudgery of your quotidian duties sets in, you’ll look just like everyone else. The happy medium is looking sharp while not dramatically upstaging your prospective colleagues.

If you decide that you need a suit, then this section can help you. I’d say that the ideal interview suit is charcoal or navy with dull pinstripes, preferably widely-spaced. A solid color is just a bit too dull. Herringbone is okay. I’d stay away from brown. Light grey or khaki are acceptable in the warm season. Once again, stay away from fashionable silhouettes–regulation lapels, ordinary waist suppression and shoulders, single- or double-vented, medium-width legs, straight or tapered. In fact, just generally stay away from fashionable silhouettes at work; that’s what the festive suit is for. Double-breasted might suit those with an average to thin build. Wingtips would be ideal shoes for this occasion, preferably black, although we men all know that some navy and grey suits can take brown shoes. Some women, on the other hand, refute this, so perhaps black shoes would be the safer option. Once again, stay away from loafers–they look too comfortable, and your imaginative interviewer might get the idea that you like to slip them off for cat naps after lunch. If you take my advice and wear a striped suit, wear a solid-color shirt, preferably white. French cuffs with simple links or knots would be good for this occasion, as would a straight or spread collar. A tie clip or cufflinks with your initial might even help the interviewer remember your name. The tie should be interesting but conservative. Consider an interesting stripe, or some kind of geometric pattern–the ties worn by the lawyers on Law & Order are often worthy examples. Avoid elaborate designs, and avoid wearing a tie with your prospective employer’s logo or colors. You don’t want to project to the interviewer that you have gotten a bit ahead of yourself and already feel like you work there. Obviously you should avoid ties that suggest their competitors.

Also, just remember that there were once ultra-conservative firms where even blue shirts were not accepted at work (that’s why blue shirts were acceptable before blue collars were, hence the style of blue shirt with a white collar). In California, some might consider you stuffy for wearing pants to your interview, but elsewhere you may still run into these extreme conservatives. You may have noticed that the President doesn’t really wear pinstriped suits very often, and his shirts are almost always plain white or a very light blue. This conservatism may not be apparent on the surface, but if even a liberal President like Barack Obama doesn’t wear pinstripes, it would seem that somewhere down there we still think pinstripes are just a bit flashy. That said, a candidate wants to stand out at his interview, and I think subtle (not bright), widely-spaced pinstripes are a good compromise of flashiness and conservatism.

4) The Traveler’s Suit: One of the saddest things is the way people dress to travel these days. When we imagine tourists, we imagine nerdy looking people with t-shirts, shorts, sandals, socks, and fanny packs. Business travelers still look okay, but the premise that one dresses well to travel is completely dead. I’ve got my ideas as to why suits might be, well, suitable for travelers.

Seasonal concerns obviously dictate what the suit should be made of. Winter travelers would benefit from a tweed suit, especially a three-piece suit. Traveling offers a unique opportunity to relax, so these suits are opportunities for all of the interesting tweed fabrics out there to shine. Those airplanes can get cold in flight, and the tweed offers a nice warmth of its own. The tweed is also great for car travelers, who will appreciate the warmth when they get gas, or for any traveler exiting his vehicle. The ticket pocket, that extra pocket seen above the right-hand pocket on some suits, was actually introduced for railroad travelers, and any traveler would benefit from the additional pocket. The three-piece suit offers four pockets in the pants, anywhere from five to seven pockets in the coat, and two to four pockets in the vest. The traveler who wears an unattractive fanny pack for lack of storage might do much better to wear a suit. The vest and coat can be removed without great difficulty and passed through an x-ray machine. My ideal pants would be high-waisted and pleated, with slightly wide legs. The pleats do concede appearance for comfort, but the hours spent sitting appreciate that benefit. I’ve found that high-waisted pants are the comfortable option when one is seated, since the waist is much less distorted than the hips when one is seated. The suspenders eliminate the constricting belt. Loafers allow the traveler to remove his shoes conveniently for inspection and sleeping. A knit tie or wool tie, or perhaps even a scarf for those so inclined, would be an ideal compliment to this outfit.

The summer traveler would do well to have a similar suit, except perhaps in khaki or white, and perhaps made of linen, cotton, or tropical worsted wool, and without the vest.

It is an uphill battle trying to convince people to aim higher than ultra casual for traveling. People are obsessed with comfort, and, admittedly, travelers are often doing things that would be rough on suits. What I disliked, though, was going to plays on Broadway, surrounded by a sea of t-shirts, ripped jeans, cargo shorts, etc. I’m making a trip up to Washington and Oregon in a few weeks, so I’ll be experimenting with ways to dress well while traveling. The traveling suit is no dead idea.

I’d be interested to hear what the rest of you think. My opinions are certainly not universally held, and some retorts from other directions would advance everyone’s knowledge on this topic.

It doesn’t seem obvious that a shirt collar would need to be buttoned down. Unless you were the kind of Eastern-seabord, preppie douchebag who wore his shirt collars popped up about five years ago (these people should have had their collars permanently sewn down with hard titanium thread), you probably have not had problems with unruly collars. Apparently polo players did a century ago, hence why they wore shirts with collars that buttoned down to the shirt, a style that Brooks Brothers copied.

There is some confusion as to what the term “button-down” means. It refers to a style of collar. Here’s a picture of someone wearing one.

Francis Scott Fitzgerald, author of The Great Gatsby, as photographed in 1937 by Carl Van Vechten. Van Vechten's whole portrait archive is in the public domain and is a convenient source for stock photographs.

This could be called a “button-down shirt,” although I’d prefer to call it a “shirt with a button-down collar,” brevity having been sacrificed for the sake of clarity. Often, people say “button-down” when they mean “button-front,” which refers to a shirt that buttons completely down the front (as opposed to a pullover shirt).

Besides this, there seems to be confusion as to the nature of the button-down collar. The way I see it, the collar is one of the most important factors in determining how formal a shirt is. The collars descend in formality in this order:

1. Standing
2. Wing (also called “wingtip” or “poke”)
3. Straight/Spread/Rounded Turndown
4. Button-down
5. Band (what one sees on very old work shirts and t-shirts; dress shirts that accept detachable collars also feature banded collars, but, these are particularly rare today, and they are not meant to be worn without the collar)

The button-down collar is, for all practical purposes, a casual collar. When I was in high school, I thought of the button-down shirt as being suitable for wear with a suit, but I have since realized the error of this thinking. One could suggest that buttons are perfectly acceptable on on formal and informal garments, citing the numerous buttons on a typical suit coat, especially double-breasted ones. There is a difference between the buttons on a suit coat and these collar buttons. The buttons on suit coats are (or stand in the place of buttons that once were) used to close the garment. The buttons at the collar points are not closures–they’re meant to fasten the collar so that it doesn’t fly around.

First of all, a collar to be worn with a suit or anything more formal should be stiff enough that it does not fly around. Second of all, a man wearing a suit should avoid situations that would cause his collar to fly up. I’ve never had my collar fly up except when I was inverted. Third of all, consider analogues in other parts of clothing. Consider the buttons on a coat or shirt. They exist to keep the garment closed. Consider, on the other hand, the buttons on the flaps of work shirts military garments. These buttons exist to keep the flaps closed. These buttons are concessions to utility at the expense of appearance, hence why suits commonly don’t have buttons on the flaps for the pockets, except possibly for the rear back pockets, and these usually lack flaps so as to be less obtrusive. Military garments do typically have the button-flap pockets, although it is worth noting that the Ike Jacket, a particularly interesting military garment, completely conceals its buttons (partly for looks, partly because these buttons were snagging on things, hence the fly front). And military garments are of a different character than what we civilians generally wear.

I do, nevertheless, often wear button-down collars. Indeed, the straight collar with a sport coat and contrasting trousers looks slightly of place, in the same way that a standing collar would look out of place with a suit. But the button-down collar has its place: casual wear. Now, my definition of casual does differ from the generally accepted definition today. I’d use casual to define everything below a suit, but above athletic wear, sleepwear, work wear, or what people wear when they obviously are completely unconcerned about their appearance (e.g., leggings as pants, sleeveless shirt on a man).

The button-down collar has a special place in casual attire, as far as I see it. Consider a tweed sportcoat; twill, solid color trousers (or perhaps corduroy); a button-down shirt in a solid color or with a windowpane, tattersall, or stripe pattern; a wool, plaid or silk/cotton, knit tie; plain derby shoes, an eight-panel or ivy cap; and perhaps a very plain vest. This is the essence of good casual. Notice that this form of casual consists of basically the same garments worn with a suit:

• Matching coat, trousers, vest —> contrasting coat, trousers, vest in bolder fabrics
• White, straight-collar shirt —> boldly-patterned shirt with soft collar that requires no special pressing and that is more comfortable against the neck
• Silk neck tie —> sturdier neck tie in a less luminescent fabric that holds up better to laundering
  Oxford shoes, cap toe or brogues/wingtips —> Derbies with a less glossy finish, perhaps in a suede leather that requires no polishing
• Derby, fedora —> eight-panel cap that is less expensive, harder to crush and damage, softer, and easier to travel with

As you can see, this form of casual allows for gentlemanly but laid-back dress with relaxed rules that open up new possibilities for expressing one’s personality.

The button-down collar ought not to be worn with suits. It’s a great collar, and it’s great with casual-wear. Notice, however, that you’ll never find a suit model wearing a button-down collar in the Brooks Brothers’ catalogue, nor will you find said collar on suit models in just about any catalogue. Once this guideline was pointed out to me, I realized the good sense behind it, and I now follow it. Moreover, anyone I see wearing a button-down collar with a suit can instantly be identified as uninformed.

Thus, this fledgling, new challenge has emerged to keep me from equilibrium: the contrasting vest. I intend not to wear such vests with suits, but rather to wear them under my sport coats, which I wear with contrasting trousers. This new variable substantially complicates matters, however. It’s like going into all-range mode on Star Fox 64. Indeed, with such an outfit, it would be difficult to achieve harmony between sport coat, trousers, tie, and vest.

For example, on an ordinary day, I might wear a grey herringbone sportcoat with a green tie and navy pants. What color vest could I wear? I think a dark charcoal vest is really the only option, and I still don’t even know if that would look good. This juggling act is one that I, nevertheless, intend to solve, even if it requires that I have 4 vests, even if I wind up wearing vests with really ridiculous patterns. After all, the Victorian Era vests were characterized by how crazy they were. Anyway, I am on the verge of getting my 1907 Elgin pocket watch fixed, and I’d like to be able to get some use out of it without also having to install watch pockets on all of my trousers. Ergo, I will wear vests.

Anyway, I’m about to forget that I’m trying to discuss tuxedos. We probably spend as much money on clothes today as we did a century ago, but we look much worse. The technology for making clothing has been getting better and better, and so our clothes would reflect improved methods in sewing. Instead, we invest in the brand equity of designer labels who churn out flimsy garments that are made to look shabby. I’m still not talking about the tuxedo, am I?

Yes, the average man should own a tuxedo. It’s not a complicated garment. Moreover, a tuxedo is likely to last a man his entire life. The style is slow to change, so a tuxedo bought today will probably not look out-of-place half a century from now. The way I imagine it, a man buys his tuxedo roughly around the time he finishes high school and begins college. By this time, most men have reached their maximum height. Perhaps they will gain weight as time goes on, but this can be allowed for in the seams after the initial tailoring. Furthermore, it is around this age that a man is expected to begin wearing black tie to semi-formal events, for a man of this age is becoming an adult and is striving for independence. And in my imagined world, the man keeps this tuxedo for the rest of his life (of course there is always the possibility that it gets destroyed in a fire, lost in a move, ruined by spills, or ripped to shreds by nymphomaniacal women, and in these cases the man would, yes, sadly, have to replace his tuxedo). Thus, a man’s age is reflected in his tuxedo. It isn’t unheard of for what we wear to reflect our age–many men wear their college or high school class rings, which are typically stamped with the graduation year. Thus, at a black-tie event today, one would expect to see old tuxedos on the tribal elders, new tuxedos on young men, and slightly old tuxedos on the middle-aged men. Naturally, there would be some older men with newer tuxedos. These men perhaps suffered one of the aforementioned tragedies or simply became tired of their old tuxedos. And there would be younger men with older tuxedos, or older men with superannuated tuxedos. These men perhaps have an affinity for older styles or are honoring a similarly-sized ancestor.

So the tuxedo is immune from the ephemeral tides of fashion. The tuxedo is as sound an investment as a US Treasury Bond (although not quite as fungible, hence why China does not invest in tuxedos).

There are some who contend that the tuxedo is too ostentatious, too bold for stoic, manly men. These men prefer to wear a subtle-colored suit. Perhaps they rise above their norm and wear a neck tie (probably not a self-tie bowtie, though). Regarding these men, I wonder what agent of insipidity whitewashed their personalities away. The tuxedo, resistant to the momentary urges of fashion endemic to women’s formalwear, is an icon of stasis and masculinity. Compare the tuxedo to the extravagant dress of the Renascence. The tuxedo is more Puritanical than it is ornamented. It is all black; it drapes over the body with simple, geometric lines; there are no poufs, frills, billows, or other emasculating features. The tuxedo’s laudable achievement is that it looks festive at all. The ancient Romans prided themselves that their toga was a simple garment*. We should pride ourselves that our tuxedo is a simple, yet practical, ergonomic garment.

*Of course, part of the Roman’s pride was that the toga could not be worn for fighting. Indeed, James Bond might have had a harder time wearing a toga. Caesar was, nevertheless, stabbed by toga-wearers, and war-unreadiness is not a trait we seek in our formalwear. We should not be ashamed of how practical our tuxedos are.

Some people have the opposite problem: they consider the tuxedo to be illiberal. It comes only in one color (two if you count midnight blue, two and a half if you count the white linen dinner jacket for summertime, and the midnight blue is somewhat out of place today since midnight blue was introduced only to counter the inadequacies of early incandescent lighting). My rebuttal is that the tuxedo’s uniformity is a good thing. On one hand, it suggests humility. No man thinks himself so special that he may deviate from this one standard. Moreover, black does not clash with any skin tone. Certainly individuality in clothing is allowable and even encouraged in informal settings; but gentlemen understand that the solemn color black is reserved for special occasions. Plain black suits are generally out of place in informal daywear. My plain black suit is only worn to funerals, which call for the solemnity of black without the tuxedo’s flair. In short, the tuxedo’s color palette is narrow because this narrow palette of colors is reserved for the kinds of special occasions to which tuxedos are worn.

Do you want to help me revive the tuxedo? The first step is simple: never watch the Academy Awards. The only winners you were even marginally interested in will be in the paper the next morning. You’ll be better off not looking at those communists and their drab travesties of tuxedos. The second step is to buy one. Don’t get a lame one. Don’t listen to the salespeople. They push the lame ones. You’ve read my posts on tuxedos. You know what you want. You might even try looking on ebay.

This next step is very important: convince your friends to buy tuxedos. This may be difficult. If you need help, I’ve always considered cannabis users to be the sages of peer pressure. Then, you and your friends should wear tuxedos to events. If you’re afraid, opera and symphony concerts are good starting places. Go to a restaurant beforehand. Walk around afterwards. Invite your friends to black-tie house parties on special holidays. There’s strength in numbers. In concluding this post and in trying to instigate the revival of the tuxedo, I’ll quote Arlo Guthrie’s song “Alice’s Restaurant”:

“You know if just one person does it, they may think he’s really sick, and they won’t take him. And if two people do it, in harmony, they’ll think they’re both faggots; and they won’t take either of them. And if three people do it, can you imagine three people walking in, singing a bar of Alice’s Restaurant and walking out? They may think it’s an organization. And can you imagine fifty people a day, I said fifty people a day, walking in singing a bar of Alice’s Restaurant and walking out. And friends, they may think it’s a movement. And that’s what it is. The Alice’s Restaurant Anti-Massacree movement. And all you gotta do to join is to sing it the next time it comes around on the guitar. With feelin’.”

THE NOTCHED LAPEL: This lapel is the most basic. Single-breasted coats (except for those listed below under the peaked lapel section) have this kind of lapel.

The PEAKED LAPEL: This lapel is an exaggerated style. Double-breasted coats should always have this kind of lapel. Tuxedos and swallowtail morning coats, which are special and reserved for special occasions, can feature this style of lapel, since the festive character of the coat merits the exaggerated lapel. The tailcoat, having buttons that suggest a double-breasted coat, should have peaked lapels

The SHAWL LAPEL: This lapel, with its soft, curved appearance, has a gentle character. It is well suited to the cardigan sweater and smoking jacket, which are both garments of a domestic character. Tuxedos, which are partly inspired by smoking jackets, may feature this style of lapel.

VESTS with lapels: Although lapels have disappeared from just about all vests except those worn with white-tie, if a vest is to feature lapels, it should feature notched lapels if the coat worn over is single-breasted with notched lapels. If the coat worn over it features anything other than a single-breasted coat with notched lapels, the vest should have a shawl lapel or no lapel at all.

REVERS: These are largely forgotten today. Here’s what they look like:

This picture, which I completely stole from Wikipedia, shows President Grover Cleveland wearing a double-breasted coat with revers.

The whole idea was that one would fold back the front of one’s frock coat to create lapels, but the facing was only so wide, so some of the lining showed as well. The revers look too smooth to be the actual lining, so it was probably constructed for the explicit purpose of being turned out like that. Anyway, such a style may have its place, but it also looks like a major hassle to put together, so I’m planning on staying away from these for now.

Some may wonder why I need to say this since these guidelines are almost universal, but I frequently see exceptions to these rules, i.e. double-breasted coats with notched lapels and (especially today) single-breasted coats with peaked lapels. I have come to the conclusion that neither looks very good, although the former is especially weak. I feel like whole point of a double-breasted coat is that you get to wear peaked lapels. Wearing a double-breasted coat with notched lapels seems to me like paying for a first-class airline ticket but using the coach bathroom.

And some of you may think it’s a bit pretentious for me to be sitting here issuing edicts and prescriptions as though I have some kind of authority to do so. Well, you’re correct, I don’t; these are just the guidelines that I’m going to follow until someone convinces me otherwise. And usually I can be convinced otherwise.

A century-old perspective on this matter, for some context. For some reason this book refers to the lapel as 'notched,' but this is either a misprint or an outdated term, because a close inspection reveals that the lapels on the coat on the left are in fact peaked.

I am an opponent of the cheapening of the tuxedo. There are certain integral features: satin or grosgrain lapel facings, a satin or grosgrain stripe on the trouser outseam, a black bowtie, a pleated or piqué or somehow interesting shirt (but, please, no ruffles), shirt studs, cufflinks (for non-piqué shirts), a wing collar, a cummerbund or vest, and possibly even satin buttons. These things all contribute in some way to the élan of the tuxedo.

I’ll begin by discussing the lapels, and I’ll start discussing lapels by giving you some background as to the lapel debate. Purists today argue that the tuxedo coat must have either shawl or peak lapels. These purists are actually quite a majority among sartorially-inclined men. The justification is that the tuxedo coat is a unique hybrid of the formal tailcoat and the domestic smoking jacket. The first tuxedo jackets were basically jackets cut to a smoking jacket pattern but using tailcoat fabric and notions. The lapel could be either of the shawl or peaked variety. Whatever the choice for the coat, the waistcoat or vest worn under the tuxedo coat almost universally featured shawl lapels until perhaps 10 years ago. In the last few years, tuxedo vests have done away with lapels entirely.

Now, some of these purists will tell you that the notched lapels on a tuxedo coat are a recent fad. This is not exactly true. My Browning, King, & Co. tuxedo from 1932 has notched lapels.

For those who claim that the notch lapel tuxedo is a recent innovation, eat this shit and die. I'm not saying it's a good look, but it has been around for a long time.

I saw an incarnation of James Bond from the 50′s wearing them. Nevertheless, they are not the most conservative option. Most associate them with Hollywood, particularly the Academy Awards, where male attendees wear exceptionally trendy (and fast to obsolesce) tuxedos. Indeed, the Academy Awards lately have featured tuxedos that are little more than black suits with satin facings, and with black four-in-hand ties.

Now, as we all know, lapels, are like Gaul: they are omnes divisa in partes tres: notched, peaked, and shawl.

My Browning, King, & Co. tuxedo from 1932. It has notched lapels, a real novelty at the time.

My great-grandfather's tuxedo. Henry John Seyler was born in 1888, so it's probably a bit older than mine. Note the peaked lapels.

This is my dad's tuxedo. He bought it in 1986. Note the shawl lapel.

The notched lapel should be familiar to everyone as the commonest choice for single-breasted suits. The peaked lapel is generally found on double-breasted coats and formal coats, viz.the evening tailcoat and swallow-tail morning coat (although the morning coat originally featured notched lapels). The shawl lapel is commonly seen on smoking jackets, sweaters, and housecoats.

My specific theory of lapels for tuxedos is as follows. Although I myself own a tuxedo with notched lapels, this is pure coincidence. Probably in my ideal world, for every eight tuxedos, four would have shawl lapels, three peaked, and one notched. Shawl lapels are more consistent with my theory that the tuxedo coat is what the smoking jacket factory made when their purchasing department got confused and accidentally ordered hundreds of yards of fabric for fabricating tailcoats. The shawl lapels are, however, perhaps artifacts of the outmoded idea that the tuxedo is something men wear only when they’re around other men (not an idea I’m suggesting we return to). Peaked lapels are bolder and less domestic-looking. The notched lapels I don’t really have much to say about. They’re just slightly boring. They’re actually more consistent with my general theory of lapels, however, so they have some merits. I also have a hunch that women today prefer notched lapels, but I have no data to back this up. I still like my tuxedo, though. I’m not expecting to buy any more tuxedos. Not bad considering I got mine for $20, plus about $10 shipping. And I’ve written this post three times, each time favoring a different style of lapels.

The stripe on the trouser outseam is part of what distinguishes the tuxedo from a mere suit. Moreover, it’s supposed to look cleaner than the typical, lumpy flat-felled seam one would ordinarily find along the outseam of a pair of pants. (That stripe should match the lapel facings: grosgrain lapels require a grosgrain stripe, and flat satin stripes for flat satin facings). I’ve heard the complaint that this gives the appearance of a uniform. The complainer gave the example of the mailman’s trousers, which feature a red stripe.

To this, I respond that there is a difference between the outseam stripe on tuxedo pants and the outseam stripe on a mailman’s pants. If you notice, when uniforms feature stripes or piping of any kind, there is often a striking color contrast. Consider the uniforms of these state troopers from my state:

Compare that to the trim you see on this 1890′s daywear coat, which is part of a 3 piece suit.

Now, both have trim that is of a contrasting color, but notice that the uniforms feature a much bolder contrast. That stripe on the trousers mailmen wear is also pretty bold.

So my point is that the stripe on tuxedo pants is much different from the stripes one would find on uniform pants. This is a black, satin or grosgrain stripe running down the length of the leg of a black pair of pants. To suppose that the black stripe on tuxedo pants suggests the yellow piping on a state trooper’s uniform would be to ignore some key variables.

*Of course, the fellow who made this argument is colorblind, so I guess there’s no convincing him.

As for the turndown collar, I don’t really know how to argue against this one. The idea behind shirt collars is that they exist in this hierarchy from most formal to most negligé: standing, wing, straight or tab turndown, buttondown, band. The way I see it, succumbing to the urge to substitute a turndown collar for the wing collar is yet another step in the march toward neutering the tuxedo into plain-black-suit gueldinghood. The wing collar looks cleaner than the turndown, which blurs the line between neck and shoulder. I like it when my neck is obviously separate from my shoulders. Usually the absence of a neck is thought to be a negative trait, characteristic of bouncers and thugs.

The one concession I will make is the problem of bowties. I, fortunately, have a fixed length bowtie that came with my 1932 tuxedo. Now, for those too pusillanimous to tie their own bowties and who rely on the chickenshit pre-tied neckwear that buckles on, neckwear that must be adjustable to fit the wearer’s neck, I offer no consolation. You can wear your turndown collar so that the buckle doesn’t show, but not only will I think that you have bad taste, but I’ll also assume that your personality is vapid. For those of you who do, in fact, use self-ties, you are permitted to continue reading. The problem, of course, is that the buckle shows in the back. I’d say, however, that an unobtrusive buckle is preferable to a turn down collar. Vests typically have very obtrusive buckles, and nobody seems to mind those. I’m not afraid of buckles, and you don’t have to be either. Perhaps at some point they’ll start making fixed-length bowties again, but that day will come only when people stop being such whiners and learn how to spend a whole 45 seconds tying a bowtie.

For those of you who wear your tuxedo with a plain black four-in-hand tie, I don’t know what to say. At least the guy with the pre-tied is trying to maintain the façade of the ideal. As I’ll explain in a future post, the neck tie is, as far as I’m concerned, a business garment. It is for use during the daytime, for wear while at work and at informal socializing during the day. The bow tie is, today, a festive garment. It is for evening engagements, which are rarely business engagements. The tuxedo is damn festive. Wearing a necktie with a tuxedo is yet another step . . . blah blah blah gueldinghood.

As for the rest of the shirt, there are any number of approaches. The pleated front is certainly one option. I don’t know what I think of this, but this is the kind of shirt I have, and it’s the most common. Most people at least wear the studs and cufflinks. I’ve seen some shirts that are made out of a somewhat textured material that isn’t piqué but which is still interesting. And of course there are piqué shirts. I don’t really like the ones that have a fly hiding the placket. I might experiment some with the old style bib-front shirts, but these do have the sadness of being useless without a vest. Some purists argue that wing collars should be detachable (for additional starching and pressing). To this, I would respond that modern dry cleaners can press attached wing collars neatly enough. Sure, I’d rather have a shirt that could accept a detachable collar, but I had way too much trouble finding such shirts, especially in my size (15 1/5 X 35). As for ruffles, we all know why this is a bad idea.

The contest between vest and cummerbund merits discussion. The cummerbund seems like a dumb idea to me. I wouldn’t wear one unless I expected to spend a lot of time outside in the summer. It was adopted by Britons in India who realized that their vests were too warm. The cummerbund was a waist sash popular among Persians, apparently. It reminds me of something the Sultan might have worn in Alladin, and that’s basically where the British got the idea. I much prefer the early 20th century vests, low cut, slim fitting, silk brocade fabric.

I really think that for a man who’s in shape, such a vest is preferable. Nevertheless, I am outvoted in this regard, and the most popular style today is a simple black vest with satin welts for the pockets and satin covered buttons, buttoning up to the midpoint of the sternum roughly. These vests still look too much like suit vests, but I still prefer them to the cummerbund. I prefer vests with backs since I feel like backless vests are fake. It looks bad if one removes one’s coat while wearing a backless vest. And the back of my vest is made of a really cool Art Deco silk fabric:

They had really nice things in the 1930's. It's no wonder this company went bankrupt in 1934. Especially with the Great Depression and all.

Of course there is the problem of how warm vests are in the summertime. In the process of taking the pictures for this, I became imminently aware of the fact that both Browning, King & Co. and the original owner (a Mr. Robert Craft) conducted their activities in Rhode Island, not New Orleans. However, I just went to a graduation last night and saw a huge number of men wearing tuxedos with white linen dinner jackets and black cummerbunds. A white coat with all of the other tuxedo furnishings except for the cummerbund or vest looks festive enough to me, so I think I can excuse those who ditch the cummerbund. I think a cummerbund looks terrible without a coat, for one thing, and I am still ambivalent as to how it looks with a coat. Not to mention the word “cummerbund” is a false friend for Germans, who might become confused and assume that it means “grief-band” (it’s from the Persian for “waistband”).

Anyway I think that’s about all there is to it. I haven’t covered shoes, but black, cap-toe oxfords are pretty much universally understood to be the standard. Maybe there are some who wear slip-on shoes. The only real problem is sneakers. I don’t really like it, but I don’t care. The world is going to hell in a handbasket anyway. Why should I be worried about a guy wearing sneakers with his tuxedo?

Really, though, I don’t care as much as you might think I do. If people want to go all out with the 1970′s baby blue tuxedos with huge lapels and ruffled shirts, I really don’t care. That’s a lot better than this torpid phase that we’re in right now. There’s no sense of ornament to the tuxedo now. People are trying to turn them into business suits. I’d award more points to the man wearing an absolutely hideous, totally flamboyant 1970′s tuxedo than to one wearing a boring tuxedo of today, stripped of all of its interesting features. The whole point is that you’re dressed up for some kind of non-work function. Maybe that’s why Hollywood wears such shitty tuxedos, because the Academy Awards are part of their job. Anyway, the rest of us don’t wear tuxedos to work. It helps to feel a bit festive sometimes. People are too accustomed to these rental tuxes that they forget the point of the tuxedo. This rental attitude has sapped all of the life-force not only from the tuxedo but also from our interest in it, because rental tuxedos are generally pretty depressing, with their cheap fabrics, sewn-shut pockets, and generally boring construction. I bet you won’t find a fully-canvassed rent-a-tux.

I had initially meant to cover the topic of lapels with this, so my plan is to unveil my CONCISE THEORY OF LAPELS, and then to try to convince you that not only should you wear a more exciting tuxedo, but that you should wear it more often.

Generally, the initial inquiry filters in, let’s pretend it’s on the first of the month. I say to myself, “Well, I’ll think about this for a while, and see if ongoing debate leads to a conclusion in a fortnight.” Due to my internal conservative bias in all matters (i.e., laziness), the burden of proof rests with the plaintiff, namely the argument in favor of shaving. The fortnight passes, the morning of the fifteenth comes around, and I say to myself, “Well, I guess that’s that.” I’ll take a break from the idea for a few days, then revisit it on the eighteenth or so. This cycle has been repeating itself since July 2009 or so.

During my periods of debate, I think about the topic daily. There are advantages to being clean shaven. For one thing, during the summertime it would be much cooler. For another, it can basically be objectively stated that, except perhaps for some with exceptionally scarred faces, a man generally is more attractive (especially to women) without a beard. And of course there’s the association of beards with radicals, Unabombers, and other scary people.

Honestly, I can’t refute any of these points; they’re all quite valid. Nevertheless, I’ve maintained this beard for a year and a half now, and I’ll tell you why.

Sure, it’s cooler in the summertime, but I’m going to be madly overheated anyway. It’s my curse. People say to me, “My God! Aren’t you uncomfortable wearing a long sleeve shirt with a tie and a sportcoat in the summertime?” For this I have two responses. First of all, I now have silk sportcoats for summertime, so they’re quite cool. Second, I have always been sweaty during the summer here, even when I wore t-shirts and shorts all the time, and honestly I don’t feel significantly less comfortable now than I ever have. If anything, the beard keeps my cheeks from getting burnt.

Second, if I look like a radical, then it’s probably just because I am one.

Third, if people, specifically women, think it’s unattractive, then I have no apology to make. Women and children don’t have beards. I am neither. Why should I try to look like one? The neat look, with short hair and no beard, as popularized by Julius Caesar, is not my self-image at this time. At some point every man decides that his mother should not have a say in his appearance, and it was at that point that I started growing this beard.

I will divide a man’s facial hair options into five categories:

• Clean-shaven. I’ll admit that it’s a very good, clean look, one that allows a distinguished face to shine through to its fullest. This requires frequent maintenance, however, and strikes me as a repressive imposition upon the human form.
• Partial facial hair. These I define as sideburns, moustaches, goatees, chinstraps, soul patches, and everything else besides just a full beard. With the exception of moderate sideburns, goatees, and moustaches, these are ridiculous novelties which I believe are almost universally disliked by women and a good number of men, and which I myself would never cultivate. I’ve never imagined Satan with a full beard–always with a soul patch or something. I personally had sideburns for a long time, but these were the only form of facial hair permitted by my high school’s strict dress code, and I do not know if I would go back to having them.

  * There is no surer a hallmark of the pedophile than an anemic moustache.

• Five o’clock shadow. I suppose this allows the man to accentuate his masculinity without obscuring his other facial features. I’ve always found such an appearance to be uncomfortable. I don’t know if it looks good. I never look like that on purpose.
• Untrimmed growth. Not a look I’d recommend unless you’re a serf or clergyman.
• Full beard. The appearance I have settled upon. It requires maintenance every two weeks, approximately. It is a way to maintain a neat appearance without repression.
  
  
  
  I guess that, despite these reasons, I still only have the beard because I feel like it. Perhaps some day I’ll do away with it; and, if and when that happens, the official reason will be “that I needed to get a good seal with a gas mask,” but the real reason will be that I just didn’t feel like having it anymore.

  And for the reactionaries who have problems with beards, just remember that 60 years ago it was conservative to have a beard. Beards know no allegiance to any philosophy, and apparently these reactionaries are too myopic to see beyond their own brief lifetimes, or else they would understand what it means to have a beard.

  
  ]]> http://edseyler.wordpress.com/2010/05/21/the-bearded-mans-apology/feed/ 0 Edward P. Seyler http://edseyler.wordpress.com/2010/05/19/update/ http://edseyler.wordpress.com/2010/05/19/update/#comments Wed, 19 May 2010 07:27:45 +0000 Edward P. Seyler http://edseyler.wordpress.com/?p=318 ]]> Well, the lapel piece has been long in the writing, and it’s not done yet. In fact, it’s totally stalled out. It’s all completely written but I need to take pictures for it, and I’m still dissatisfied. Brahms spent 21 years working on his 1st Symphony before he finally released it, and he still didn’t like it. I’m hoping to surpass Brahms at least in terms of alacrity.

  There’s one I’m going to be releasing later today, however, “The Bearded Man’s Apology.” I say this so that I have no choice but to finish up that piece and put it out somewhat on schedule.

  Here’s what Brahms looked like when he started working on the 1st Symphony. This was 1853, when Brahms was 20 years old. He claims to have worked on the work from ’55 to ’76. Anyway, I like his coat. Note the lack of shoulder pads.

  

  
  ]]> http://edseyler.wordpress.com/2010/05/19/update/feed/ 0 Edward P. Seyler Johannes_Brahms_1853