Sixties style, as told by Hardy Amies

The Victoria & Albert Museum – London’s best if you are interested in style and decoration – is running an exhibition on the Golden Age of Couture, 1947-1957. The exhibits of vintage Dior, Balenciaga and Balmain gowns are fascinating: the relentless tightening of waists, the details of how dresses were cut and the style culture of Paris.

But the discovery of the exhibition for me was in the gift shop: a new print of Hardy Amies’s ABC of Men’s Fashion. First published in 1964, it contains a staggering number of sayings about men’s fashion that have remained in circulation. The most famous of course is: “A man should look as if he had bought his clothes with intelligence, put them on with care and then forgotten all about them.”

There are also little gems such as “Cummerbund. ‘Anglo-Saxon 1616. A sash or girdle worn around the waist’. Need I say more?” And “Fancy waistcoat. Fancy is a suitably unpleasant word for a rather nasty article.” Although Amies does go on to say “I should exclude from this fancy waistcoats worn with a morning coat. Here a touch of dandyism seems to be desirable.”

For the purposes of Permanent Style, however, the most interesting aspect of Amies’s book is his declarations about the fashion of the sixties, and his confidence in its practicality and longevity.

The sixties ideal is long and slim, with very narrow trousers, a four-buttoned suit and ankle boots. His tie is thin and he wears a trilby pushed forward on the head. Everything is about length and height, all buttoned-up and tight. His guidelines are:

Trousers: “Trousers follow the natural contours of the leg as closely as comfort and the fall of the cloth permit.”

Jacket: “The line is accentuated by the use of three buttons as fastening rather than two or one. Four are better still.”

Revers: “These higher fastenings automatically shorten the length of the revers and it is natural that they should also become narrow.”

Sleeves: “Sleeves should be as narrow as comfort permits, and at the wrist should just encompass the cuff of the shirt.”

Waist: “A four-button fastening looks well with a jacket cut rather straight at the sides. This looser, straighter jacket has for some time been liked by the young. It looks casual. The older find it comfortable.”

Headwear: “Given the slightest chance, young people rush to put on a hat. They are designed to be worn well forward on the head, thus enhancing the forward lines of the rest of the costume.”

Footwear: “Elastic-sided boots are more comfortable to wear, easier to put on, nicer to look at, and better integrated with the rest of one’s clothes than the lace-up kind. They seem to have just about everything in their favour.”

I find it fascinating that someone so revered now and then had such confidence that style was changing. It is an illustrative lesson in assumptions about so-called classic style or indeed permanent style.

How to get value for money

It’s hard to sit at home while luxury items are being reduced all over the city. But it’s worth it.

This year economic uncertainty meant that many sales started early, often before Christmas. When I was in New York at the beginning of December, a Ralph Lauren employee subtly mentioned to me that all their stock was already on sale. Polo and Black Label were reduced by 30%, Purple Label by 50%. There were no signs in the store, and no marking down on the labels. But a few people were quietly told as they browsed.

It was the same situation in London, though staff wouldn’t necessarily admit it. I bought a suit in mid-December that was altered in a few places, but when I went to pick it up they claimed to know nothing of the early sale.

“You say you bought this suit in the sale, sir?”
“Yes, around December 12”
“The sale didn’t start until December 27, though – are you sure that’s right?”
After 20 minutes of searching, the suit was eventually found. Maybe this particular employee wasn’t clued in, or maybe it’s a conspiracy. Either way it is understandable that a chain wouldn’t advertise the fact that sales had started early – it could be seen as a sign of desperation.

Because sales started early, many retail chains had to increase discounts after Christmas and into January. This is why, though hard, it is worth waiting until the end of the sales. If you start with a discount of 50%, the “further discounts” that are advertised in mid-January need to push sales to 60% or even 70%.

This is particularly satisfying because you know you are eroding a label’s profit, approaching the point where all you are paying for is the cost of the item itself.

The typical profit margin in fashion retail is between 65% and 80%, depending on the brand and what you include in a chain’s costs. The cost of manufacture may be small on its own, but the chain also has to cover its rent and wages, not to mention firm-wide costs like advertising and branding.

(This, by the way, is how Selfridges can sell, say, Prada shoes at the same price as they are in the Prada store. Selfridges gets them at a discount because Prada doesn’t have to pay rent, wages etc. for those items.)

So wait until the end of the sales, and then rejoice when your discount approaches 70%. Ralph Lauren reduced its Purple Label socks from £25 to £8 in these sales, a reduction of 68%. A manager there told me they had been snapped up as a result – not surprising really.

Savile Row store Kilgour is also worth watching out for, as it reduces the previous season’s suits and shirts by a further discount in the sales. Last season’s jackets, for example, were reduced from £660 to £195 last time I checked – a very satisfying 70% saving. Happy shopping!

The future of men's blogs

As a magazine editor myself, I have always felt frustrated that there is no newsstand magazine catering to me or anyone with a similar interest in men’s style.

Magazines that claim to do so either stray too far into lad’s mag territory (filled with sex columns and guff about cars or lifestyle – GQ, Arena, Esquire) or focus on the seasonal rotation of men’s fashion (GQ Style, Arena Homme Plus. But how many men do you know that change their clothes every six months?).

What is needed is a men’s magazine with features like a women’s magazine. It needs information on the history and traditions of menswear, together with tips on combinations and shops, and a little on fashion trends thrown in.

Until a year ago, I thought nothing came close to filling this gap in the market. Then I discovered blogs.

The more blogs I find on men’s style, the more there seem to be. Each mentions a few of his favourites as recommended links, and so you are sent off on another two or three forks of discovery.

Blogs have disadvantages. Without the editors or quality control that you would have on a magazine, some are poorly written or poorly researched. At their worst, they are empty musings by bored students, and each sentence is so long it gives you a headache.

But many show greater knowledge and greater clarity. My first discovery was The Sartorialist, which has become extremely popular and features the photos of Scott Schuman. His real talent as a photographer and real passion for men’s clothes – particularly as regards colour – is clear in almost every photo. Others with real knowledge include Andy, at askandyaboutclothes.com, and Will at A Suitable Wardrobe. I would also include the blogs featured on this website as among the best.

Discussion forums are very popular – and this proves to me the size of the audience for writing on men’s style. Among the biggest are styleforum.net and thelondonlounge.net. Andy also features forums on his site. But forums too have their disadvantages: without any quality control, you can find yourself reading page after page of comments that do not provide anything original.

In my opinion, the future of men’s style blogs will be in collections of columns and features, much like a magazine. This could happen through new sites, like mensflair.com, or through the extension of existing magazines.

By collating writers onto one site, Men’s Flair enables you to read different viewpoints and different types of writers in one place. Magazine sites such as men.style.com (which publishes GQ and Details in the US) have begun to collate blogs (such as The Sartorialist and In Her Eyes) as well as trying to start their own style forums.

This is the future. Blogs have filled a gap in the market, but there are so many that people find themselves reading the few that show real talent – as both writers and stylists. Those few will consolidate leaving the reader, hopefully, with the men’s style read they need.

A hidden gem in London

John Rushton shoes is an oasis of personal and professional service.

At the very least, it seemed like an oasis to me last Saturday. I had spent a hellish three hours in the shoe department of Selfridge’s, in the middle of the January sales. Rack upon rack of shoes was stacked up on the first floor by size, punters crawling around and under each other to see the reduced items. And the chaos meant that many of the sizes were, frustratingly, in the wrong place. I found two size 10s and one size 8 of a brogue in the section labelled 9.

After half an hour I literally stumbled across a Richard James chocolate-brown derby. Half off, an unusual two-eyelet design and, amazingly, size 9.

But that was where my luck ended. I quickly noticed the queue of people standing behind a black rope, as if trying to get into a club. They were waiting to get the matching shoe for their selection from the stock cupboard. And some had been there hours.

I was given a ticket. Number 34. I began to get worried when the first number read out by a member of staff was 11. I got even more worried, an hour later, when the numbers being read out were 45 and 46. A man standing next to me (with number 32) received the bad news that there was in fact no right shoe for the left one in his hand. “I’m terribly sorry,” said the ruffled employee. “Sometimes this does happen in the sales.” I was about to ask how on earth it happened – did someone buy an odd pair? Or three shoes? Or one shoe!? – but she was gone.

I eventually got my shoes after three hours (including half an hour in the queue to pay). When I came out, I remembered a friend’s recommendation for John Rushton shoes, on Wimpole Street. Although just off Oxford Street, it is in the lesser known area (at least to tourists) north of the main road, up towards Marylebone.

There were three men in the shop. All were middle-aged and all, it seemed, knew each other. One it turned out was John, and the other two were long-time customers. The conversation concerned how a particular suede boot had worn through over time, and the best way to have them refurbished or resoled. It showed knowledge of how the boot was put together, the craftsman that would repair it and the customer’s history of purchases.

It was an impressive contrast to the consumerist chaos in Selfridge’s. When I was in the department store I overheard one Japanese man saying he was buying five pairs, which he would try on at home and probably keep two. In John Rushton, the air was of select items bought with consideration and intended to last.

John Rushton stocks only British shoes benchmade in Northampton. The shop features six brands, of which the largest range is in Cheaney and Alfred Sargent. This year sees the launch of designs with John’s particular design and colour treatments. It is located at 93 Wimpole Street, and johnrushtonshoes.com.

I have only been there twice, and have yet to be familiar with John or his team. But I hope to be.

The Logical Waistcoat Theory (part two)

(The first part of this posting bemoaned the fact that the suit had become impractical in most offices, with the jacket rarely worn. It is understandable, but a shame.)

Here’s my solution. It’s logical and practical; though obviously that doesn’t mean anyone will take it up.

The key is the waistcoat. Men don’t wear suit jackets because there’s no need in an air-conditioned office; the waistcoat will not make you too hot. Men don’t wear suit jackets because it can be uncomfortable to work in at a computer; the waistcoat does not restrict you. A man without his suit jacket can look scruffy if his shirt becomes untucked; the waistcoat keeps it hidden. Without his suit jacket a man’s tie can look untidy; the waistcoat keeps it buttoned up and prim. It’s hard to fault the logic.

So basic office attire could be a two-piece suit of waistcoat and trousers. A man can then wear any weight of coat over it when he goes outside. There is no need to put on both a jacket and coat (if cold), or leave the jacket on the back of your chair all day long (if hot).

Wearing waistcoat and trousers is not quite as flattering as a jacket. But it does lengthen the figure in a similar way, maintaining that long line of smart dark wool. Pinstripes can still be employed to add slenderness, in the same way as a suit (it is hard to see this working with trousers and shirt – see previous posting on shirts that look like pyjamas: permanentstyle.blogspot.com).

And for those who like to get involved with their suits, to understand tailoring and aspire to a bespoke lifestyle, waistcoats offer much. Many tailors will tell you that a waistcoat is one of the hardest things to make, a summit of the craft. It needs to both fit snugly to the body and remain flexible. It is probably harder to find a well-fitting waistcoat than a well-fitting jacket off the peg. Plus, Tom Ford loves them.

There are of course other solutions to the dilemma I posed. If your shirt has long enough tails and fits close to your waist it is unlikely to become untucked. Your tie could be prevented from flapping by a tie clip. But I do think the waistcoat solution has advantages, as it retains the smartness of a suit and remains within the menswear tradition.

So, wear a two-piece suit with a difference to work tomorrow. If anyone asks why just point them in the direction of this blog.

I will if you will.

The logical waistcoat theory (part one)

Men need a new uniform to adapt to air conditioning. Here’s a suggestion.

Let’s start with history and practicality. Suit jackets were never meant to be taken off. A man, no matter what his place in society, strained to have a clean collar and cuffs in order to appear smart. But these were detachable from the main shirt, which would be reworn for reasons of economy.

The maximum that was ever visible of a man’s shirt was his collar, cuffs and shirt front. For example, in Dickens’s Martin Chuzzlewit, the younger Chuzzlewit observes that many immigrants to America pack their suitcases with detachable shirt fronts – and have no real shirts at all. They maintain an air of respectability by having clean, white shirt fronts. They cannot afford a shirt, but no one will know they are not wearing one, because no one takes off their jacket.

The suit, with the possible addition of a waistcoat, was worn in its whole both for smartness and for warmth. The head-to-toe grey, blue or black was considered proper and smart – only a labourer or someone at particularly heavy work would take off their jacket (hence the association of being ‘in one’s shirtsleeves’ with toil). And only someone who was not afraid to get cold. The absence of central heating and air conditioning meant men wore a three-piece suit in heavy wool merely to keep warm.

Have a look at those old Hollywood films. How often do you see a well-dressed man’s shirt?

So, a suit from head to toe. Probably with long socks – both for warmth and for smartness again, to prevent showing naked leg and break that formal, dark figure. And the collar would be kept together with a tie, tucked into the jacket or waistcoat.

Today, if men wear a suit to the office they almost immediately take off the jacket. It would be too hot and probably uncomfortable to work at a computer with all day long. So they walk around the office in suit trousers, a shirt and possibly a tie. Without anything to tuck into, the tie may flap around unflatteringly. The effect is reinforced if the tie is loosened and the top button of the shirt undone. Plus, unless the shirt is very fitted, it will balloon a little around the waist.

If the man goes outside, it is likely that he will either put on both the jacket and a coat (in winter) or nothing at all (in summer). Either way, the jacket is redundant.

This redux of the classic lounge suit is often unflattering. Gone, for most of the day, is the waist-concealing silhouette of a well-made suit. That most attractive of outfits, which flatters many men like nothing else, is lost.

It is no wonder that many in the US have adopted a casual work outfit. If all you were wearing was suit trousers and a shirt, what’s the difference if you wear chinos and a shirt?

It is no wonder that putting a suit on to meet a client can feel a little artificial, like donning armour. And it is little wonder that many young men feel bored by a suit and prefer not to wear one (unless it is fashionable, as it has been for the past few years). But it is a pity.

The solution to this modern workwear dilemma will appear in the second part of this posting, on Monday.

The tie was on purpose!

For regular readers of this blog, you may be interested to know that my grandfather was wearing his Macclesfield tie deliberately at my wedding this summer (see posting on 31 December 2007). 

The traditions we read about do live on. See photo above for a shot of his particular take on the Macclesfield. 

An exercise in Etro

Following the last post on Italian house Etro, here is some pictorial analysis of my fascination.

As much as Etro’s originality and quality can inspire, it is often the catwalk combinations that galvanise me. Take the first image on the left – a pale grey suit with purple waistcoat and coordinating tie, shirt, handkerchief. Now, as a whole this is too much. Some people might be able to get away with it – perhaps Italian eccentrics who happen to be heir to an automobile fortune. I can’t.

But like much that is thrown down the runway, it is not supposed to be copied. It is supposed to inspire. I have a sweater in a dark purple from Reiss. Up till now I have only worn it with navy suits or jackets. Perhaps I will try it with a pale grey – even brown, which this suit seems to tend towards.

Equally, I would have thought the colour too dark to be worn with brown shoes; yet it works well here. And the twist of the yellow belt: perhaps too much, but it does remind me of the contrasting colours (one primary colour’s contrast is the mix of the other two – so, yellow’s is purple).

The handkerchief is too showy and I don’t like the pattern. I don’t particularly like the tie or shirt either, certainly not together. But a similar suit tone with a purple sweater, perhaps over a blue-and-white striped shirt? That could work. And yellow would be good as an accent, in a handkerchief or even a belt as here.

The image and its colours inspire in a way that is rare in menswear.

The second image on the left points out how well rusty reds work with brown, though I’d never go for that tie or shirt. The third is all about combinations of pattern. The suit, sweater, shirt, tie and handkerchief all have different patterns. But they work because the wide stripes of the sweater (and its strong outline) separate the suit and shirt/tie. Equally, the tie and shirt are a similar enough density of pattern to fit well together and to slip into the background. The colours (except for that yellow belt again) are not that extraordinary, but the patterns take it to another level. I wouldn’t wear it all, but it inspires.

The next image shows how well bright colours can go together if they are balanced (either the tie or the trousers on their own would stand out too much). The penultimate combination demonstrates balancing the strong pattern of a suit with plain, background colours elsewhere. And the yellow sweater in image number six just seems to work. Perhaps it’s the implied yellow in the green-tinge trousers and vest, I’m not sure.

During this same season, Fall 2007, Calvin Klein was displaying grey tonic suits, with the occasional bright yellow. Armani had quilted vests and collarless shirts, but was basically black and blue. Both seem not only dull but unsophisticated compared to the density of colour at an Etro show.

Have a flick through the previous few years’ Fall collections at Etro. Try and ignore 2007’s floppy yellow hat. The rest might just inspire you.

I love Etro

About two years ago I walked down a narrow street in London to visit a tailor that had been recommended to me.

I rang a buzzer on the street, which echoed somewhere on the second floor. After a couple of minutes I was buzzed up, out of the drizzle, and was led up a tightly spiralling staircase.

The tailor’s space was unassuming and sparsely furnished. But as I stood there being measured (to have a jacket taken in, having lost a little weight) I noticed a few brilliant suits among the racks of clothes lining the walls.

One Prince-of-Wales suit had a lively yet subtle lime-green stripe through it, with delicate, shell-like buttons. Another in navy had a light blue chalk stripe, wider than average but also fainter.

When I asked the tailor where they were from she came over a little glazed and pointed at a bag in the corner. Over a brown, swirling paisley was emblazoned the Etro logo – on a bright orange background, naturally.

“Oh, such beautiful suits,” she said. “When you have to take them apart every day you see. So beautifully put together.” She brought over a cashmere jacket with a check that reminded one of children’s crayons. “You see? Look at the lining and the canvassing!” I don’t know a lot about the structure of a suit now, and I knew less then. But the enthusiasm in her eyes was enough.

The tailor was Atelier Colpani (15 Avery Row, London W1K 4BF, and recommended), which does all the adjustments for Etro’s London store at 14 Old Bond Street. And that day my fascination with the Italian, family-run label began.

Now, Etro is a little quirky. You probably gathered that from the earlier descriptions of unusual suits. But there are consistently jewels in every collection, and many are conservative enough to suit anyone.

I own and treasure two Etro suits, one of which is that lime-green plaid. The belt I have in their signature paisley is probably my single favourite thing. But Etro can also be wide of the mark. Last year’s summer collection featured a rather unconvincing pirates theme. And a shirt with a pizza printed on the front. This summer’s Etropicalia theme concentrates on unusual weaves with every different material from raffia to straw. It also has too many suits with flowers printed on the back.

But when the Etro family get it right, you realise quite how dull every Armani, Gucci and Boss you’ve ever seen is. Those boring grey tonic suits, or the announcements of a new line from Giorgio with – shock – higher notched lapels.

You wouldn’t wear Etro head to foot. Or I wouldn’t. And you won’t like at least half of the stock. But the pieces you do like will truly be a breath of fresh air.

Tips on stuffing

As a follow up to my last posting, here are some tips on stuffing a handkerchief.

The golden rule: a silk handkerchief should always look as though it is in use, though this is patently not the case. It should be casual, and not appear overprepared or constructed. If you are lucky this may counterbalance the fact that you are wearing one. And no one else is.

The easiest way to achieve this casualness is to hold the handkerchief in the centre, let the four ends drop, and stuff that centre into the bottom of the pocket, letting the points poke out of the top. If the points poke out further than desired, try folding over the other end an inch or two first.

If you prefer a rounded finish to a handkerchief (and it does look rather less outspoken) then reverse the process. Gather the four corners together, perhaps fold them over an inch or two as above, and then stuff into the pocket so the centre protrudes. This may also be useful if you wish to display the centre pattern, rather than a differently coloured border.

The other alternative is a mixture of these two, gathering the four corners and then folding the length in half. That way both the centre and the corners protrude, with the centre acting effectively as a fifth point. The disadvantage of this stuff is that there is no handkerchief at the bottom of the pocket and, unless the pocket is tight, it may slip down during the day.

I would also recommend trying a no-nonsense stuff, particularly if you feel the other suggestions don’t work. Push the handkerchief into the pocket. If the protrusion at the top is too large, fold the excess silk back into the pocket and behind the handkerchief. This rarely results in the same display twice.

Finally, the second golden rule: always go for casual. Don’t over-think it and, whatever you do, don’t adjust it constantly. There’s nothing worse that someone fiddling with a pocket hankie, drawing more attention to an already unusual decoration. Clothes should look, to quote Hardy Amies, as if you had forgotten all about them.

Cotton handkerchiefs are different. Some of these pointers apply, others don’t; more on the folding options for a cotton handkerchief at another time. As to which you should wear, though, bear in mind that a silk tie or handkerchief works well because of its contrast in texture, between the rough wool of a suit and the smoothness of silk. Silk therefore goes best with most suits, particularly flannel. Some modern worsted suits reverse this relationship: they are so smooth that cotton or even wool is more of a contrast.

(Remember the philosophy of Permanent Style though: you don’t need to follow the guidelines, it’s just worth being aware of why they are there. If you wear a wool tie or handkerchief with a sports jacket it might get lost because of the lack of contrast. A silk tie with a shiny suit might be too much. But then you might want that.)

The handkerchief as tie

NOTE: From this week, Permanent Style will also be appearing as a column on the US style website mensflair.com. Check it out

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Men rarely get to wear silk without appearing foppish. 

So it's a shame that so many decline to wear a tie. It's pretty much the only opportunity a man has to decorate himself with a length of patterned silk. 

Some prefer not to wear a tie because it seems uncomfortable. Others because they associate it with school or dull office word (the 'noose of the Man'). Still others dislike wearing one because it appears too formal - in an old office of mine the appearance of someone in a tie was always greeted with the question "got a meeting today?"

Now if wearing a tie is uncomfortable you shirt is probably too small. But there's nothing to be done about the psychological scars of school days or a hatred of the Man. I would suggest instead the addition of a silk handkerchief in your breast pocket. 

A good guideline for wearing a handkerchief is to think of colour in the same way as you would that of a tie or a shirt. If it is there for background, for reinforcement but not to catch the eye, then go for a plain colour picked out from the rest of the outfit - blue or white from your blue or white shirt, for example. This is nearly always the best option if you are also wearing a tie, but may also be useful if you already have a surfeit of pattern elsewhere. 

The alternative is to treat the handkerchief as a tie. This is wear it gets fun. Select your blue serge suit and plain blue shirt, and then pick out a handkerchief with the same colour harmonies in mind as with a tie. A burnt orange pattern might go well, or perhaps a dark, paisley purple. Pale green can go well with the right tone of blue, and patterned burgundy will look smart. 

If you feel conformist one morning, opt for a sharp white cotton square. If you're feeling a little crazy, select a pink foulard handkerchief, overflowing from the breast pocket. 

The handkerchief is the replacement for the tie. It is the same opportunity for decoration, shifted across your body and stuffed in a pocket. Your neck is free and it's unlikely you look like a schoolboy; yet you have retained that avenue of expression. You look smart, perhaps even more conservative; yet you can still wear silk. 

Yellow polish and the light of the moon

I had a nice chat with a salesman in french shoemaker JM Weston today. 

He cleared up some questions I had on using polish and cream on shoes, and was happy to do so. So I share them here with you. 

Cream feeds the shoes and keeps them supple. It stops them cracking and maintains flexibility. However, if overused it can make the leather too soft, allowing it to buckle and contort. It should be used once when the shoes are first bought, and again every three months or so. 

Polish protects the leather. It makes it more water resistant and gives it a shine, but essentially remains on top and does not sink in (unlike cream). It is worth polishing your shoes every two to three weeks, depending on wear. But before you polish them, try just buffing them with a soft cloth. You may find that the dullness is caused largely by dust and dirt. After polishing, try dampening a cloth and mixing it with a little polish, then rub a little into the leather (good idea to use circular motions, to avoid streaking). The water should crystallise the polish, bringing out the shine. 

When you use cream every three months or so, it will take off one or two layers of polish. So you may need to repolish soon after. 

Lastly, it is a good idea to avoid coloured polishes and creams whenever you can. Both will change the colour of your shoes, and if you like the colour as it is then only neutral creams and polishes will prevent it changing. Oh, and if you want to enhance a colour without changing it too much, try a very light tan or yellow polish. It is what Berluti usually recommends for its shoes to avoid changing their delicate patina (apparently created by the light of the moon for that extra touch - hmmm). 

Shop locations: Berluti, 43 Conduit Street, www.berluti.com. JM Weston, 3-5 Burlington Gardens, www.jmweston.com

How many measurements will he take?

Getting a suit altered can be as good as made-to-measure. 

I was looking at several tailors that offer made-to-measure recently, where your suit is still made by machine, but uses specific measurements to create the template for that machine. It is incredibly unlikely that an off-the-peg suit will fit you perfectly, that your chest is bang on 40 inches, for example, and jacket and trouser waist fit the corresponding drop (the chest to trouser-waist difference, usually six inches on modern suits). So tailoring or made-to-measure are the only options if the suit is going to fit well.

But watch the number of measurements the tailor says he will take. If it is only seven or eight then there will be no difference between that and a tailored ready-to-wear suit - as you can easily have these seven or eight changes made yourself. When I asked the tailors how many measurements they took, it varied from eight to fourteen. And I decided that one ready-to-wear suit only needed a few adjustments. 

I opted for an off-the-peg suit at Ralph Lauren with the trouser length, sleeve length and jacket waist adjusted. The adjustments are done at cost - £12 each. 

Dressing the man

A little recommendation for reading today. 

I found the best book ever on men's style about two years ago: Dressing the Man by Alan Flusser. Apparently everyone already knows it, but I didn't and it made me gloriously happy. I'd read it twice within a week and so wish there were more books out there that go into such detail around periods and styles. If anyone has any recommendations, let me know.

The only criticism I have (and this is nit picking) is that he insists on trousers high on a man's waist rather too much, and ventless jackets. While Cary Grant makes this look great, it would look rather ridiculous on someone today, particularly given that he will spend a greater proportion of his time with his jacket off. 

Should have made that recommendation before Christmas really. Oh well. 

Change anything but the shoulders

There are so many things to say about how a suit fits. 

Here's one, the simplest. Pretty much everything can be altered in a suit except the shoulders. Obviously the jacket cannot be lengthened; but the sleeves can be lengthened or shortened, the waist taken in or let out (both trouser and jacket), the crotch taken out/in and the trouser legs lengthened/shortened. 

So when you try on a ready-to-wear suit in the sales, look at the back of your neck (in a mirror) and the shoulders. The back of the suit should neither stand away from your neck, or wrinkle up and create a little ridge behind the lapel. The first shows the cloth has too much slack, the second that it has too little. Equally, the shoulder of the jacket should go straight out and not dip; and your shoulder should not be visible pushing at the cloth of the sleeve. These are signs that the suit is too big and too small, respectively. 

Another good thing to look at is the cloth across your back. Check for lines of tautness (probably across the shoulders) or slack under the arms (indicating drooping shoulders). Then take it to a good tailor to get anything else altered. 

(Whilst I learnt these tips by reading, I recommend trying on several suits to make sure you can spot the signs. Even try on your existing suits to see what you can spot, before you go shopping. I didn't really know what much of this meant until I'd seen it for myself.)