Spectrum-spanning combinations

At a certain point, dressing with a fondness and knowledge of traditional men’s clothing can become staid. I have referred to this previously as the point at which style becomes costume. The instant you start wearing a bowtie with your tweed jacket and flannels. The moment when you add a tie pin to your three-piece, double-breasted suit. At this point you are merely aping the dress of a certain period, and dressing up for pantomime.

The traditional must be balanced with the quirky, the modern and, most importantly, the personal. Wear beaten-up converse under your flannels. Add a lurid handkerchief to your suit’s breast pocket. The true enthusiast of style is constantly striving to update these traditions and add a twist. This does not mean having a buttonhole stitched in a contrast colour, or going for a bright jacket lining, a la Paul Smith. It has to be your own. It has to be personal.

Here are a couple of recent inspirations of my own. They both balance ties, either necktie or bowtie, with more casual pieces of clothing. As the tie is towards the formal extreme of a formality spectrum, it should be balanced with something from towards the other end of the spectrum, the informal.

Two provisos. One, this assumes that the look you want is somewhere in between: a weekend or casual Friday look with a formal edge to it. Two, these suggestions are obviously not that personal, given that I am suggesting them to you. But they’re perhaps a good place to start.

My first combination comprises Oxford button-down shirt, bowtie, jeans and hooded sweatshirt. I have no opinion on the shoes – perhaps brogues or trainers, depending on your mood. In fact, the shoes are probably the tipping point of formality: formal with an informal twist, or the other way around. The bowtie at one end of the spectrum is balanced by the hoodie at the other end. The Oxford-weave shirt, similarly, makes an effective background to the bowtie.

The second combination is another version of the same idea. Necktie with Windsor-collar shirt, jeans and rugby shirt. In this instance, the necktie is balanced by the rugby shirt. The tie should be a casual fabric if possible – cotton, linen, wool. Something matte. The rugby shirt is something of a British institution but is also fairly widely available in the US. An equivalent is the long-sleeved version of the polo shirt.

Preppy combinations, perhaps. But pulling them off well, personally, is your job.

The undone tie

A loose tie knot is much derided by style aficionados and those of a traditional bent to menswear. But it can work well. As with all these style quirks, it depends on using traditions of menswear as a weapon, understanding them and then subverting them.

The dark suit, white shirt and dark tie is often used as an archetypal ‘cool’ outfit worn by movie stars and rock stars. While it becomes very formulaic if everyone wears it, and plain dull if it is the only thing to appear on a red carpet, it is striking. The stark lack of colour and high-contrast silhouette suggest aggression, while a loose black tie gives the impression of laid-back nonchalance. Danger and indifference – two time-worn elements of cool.

However, a loose tie only works when it is contained. The image included in this post, of two men posing for a shot on The Sartorialist, shows how a loose tie knot can work well. It is a world apart from the portly gentleman with jacket unbuttoned, letting a wide, loose tie flap around on his gut. That undermines every flattering and stylish aspect of a tie.

To wear a loose tie well, you should bear in mind width, colour and boundaries. The tie should be narrow if possible, as shown on this gentleman in the Sartorialist photo. A loose tie knot risks dragging the whole silhouette of a man southwards, as the wide bottom loses the harmonious balance it holds with the taut knot at the neck. Suddenly both ends of the tie are pointing downwards. A narrow tie avoids this problem by removing the breadth of the tie at its bottom end. You have a vertical line rather than a downward-pointing arrow.

The tie should also be dark if possible, or plain at the least. This is because the tie is there to draw attraction to its louche silhouette, not to its pattern or colour. The outfit is about line and contrast, not tonal harmonisation.

But the most important aspect of wearing a loose tie well is boundaries. A loose tie looks bad when it flops, flaps and ruins silhouette. If the jacket (or waistcoat) is buttoned, that tie is contained and will not flap or flop. Equally, a collar that suggests it is containing the tie works well. You will notice that in the picture the gentleman both has his jacket buttoned and wears a button-down collar. That combination makes the tie an effective part of the whole rather than a distraction.

It kind of looks cool as well.

Ralph Lauren after-sales part 2

My after-sales experience at Ralph Lauren didn’t end with the description in the previous post. It got better, again through a mixture of good service and luck.

As with the previous suit, this one would need altering in one or two places. In the waist of the jacket, as I am slim compared to my chest breadth, and in the length of the sleeves, as jacket sleeves are always an inch too long for me (again, see recent post).

RL does all these alterations very reasonably in-house, and I would recommend anyone who buys a suit there to have it altered in one or two places (indeed, do this anywhere if it is economical enough).

As this was a Black Label suit, I was recommended to go for a 42-inch chest rather than a 40 – the Black Label suits are cut slimmer generally and therefore the size above is recommended. This would mean that the trousers would also need taking in a little (Black Label suits have a seven-inch drop rather than the standard six, but they would still be too big).

I was resigned to paying for one more alteration than previously. But as I was going to be measured, Gregor (the aforementioned senior assistant) said RL would “swallow the costs of the alterations” as I had already paid for alterations on the first suit. So that £50 earned through finding a suit at a greater discount was all mine.

But as with the first episode, there was one more kick of good luck. Rather than a sales assistant measure me for the alterations, as had happened previously, it would be done this time by the in-house tailor, Jaan. Just because he happened to be there.

Jaan insisted in taking half an inch off each shoulder. That would mean taking the sleeves off, adjusting the width of the wool and its padding, and reattaching the sleeves. A better fit, more expensive, but then Ralph was paying. So now I need a second fitting, once the shoulders have been done, to adjust the sleeves, waist and trousers. It’s a week more of suit-related excitement and anticipation, in total, all for the princely sum of minus £50.

Unfortunate footnote: The jacket of my old suit will be destroyed as part of the exchange. Apparently they “put a knife right through the back of it”. This is a real shame, given there is nothing wrong with the jacket, and it has been altered to my specifications. No one else will want it, but I do.

But it seems it is unavoidable. The store needs something to put against the cost of the new suit. Yet I can’t help feeling that if this were a local tailor rather than a worldwide conglomerate, I would be able to buy the jacket back for some small sum. With this policy, everybody loses. It’s a waste to stab the thing in the back.

I want to browse your brand

One wise old editor at my company is sceptical about websites. Whenever he gets into a discussion about redesigning, upgrading or reformulating a magazine’s site, he always asks “do you really want a website?” This is, of course, a rhetorical question; it does not expect a response. It is therefore quickly followed by a similar question: “Why do you want a website?”

If the first question befuddles the colleague he is addressing, the second stops them dead. For the first answer seems obvious; the second has never really occurred to them.

Few magazine editors ask themselves why they want or need a website. And this leads to muddled approach when they put their magazine online. Fashion brands are no different.

Most brands’ websites will tell you where their shops are, how to contact them and give you a flavour of the collections. But often the collections are merely represented through advertising campaigns – which can be obscure to say the least. Kilgour is a good example: beautiful, shadowy images, but little clue as to what the clothes look like. An online shopping element has been added recently, but this is just accessories.

Some brands happily display their wares, attractively photographer, but stop there. Many of the classic shoemakers do this. Edward Green, for example, will take you through a small number of shoe models. But there is little beyond a short biography to give you a sense of what Edward Green is or what it stands for.

You may argue that this suits Edward Green – simple, modest. But even a display of the major lasts, or of the elements of shoe quality, would help (both of which you have been able to get at various times as leaflets in the shop). And luxury brands suffer from the same problem – Dunhill.com is dull, pedestrian, communicating nothing of its rich history and philosophy to those shoppers who are not within easy reach of a store.

The fact is, a modern brand’s website needs both these things – stock and philosophy. Just like in a store, I need to be able to see the merchandise easily, attractively, and get a sense of the brand. The designers of luxury goods stores spend a lot of money making sure the décor, the staff, the mannequins and everything else in a shop tells the customer what this brand is, what it stands for.

Because they are just brands. More and more today these companies are simply brands that one associates with a package of images, ideas and aspirations. To make them unique, to make sure people know the difference between Canali and Corneliani, to make sure they know why John Lobb shoes cost so much more than Gucci, to make sure no one thinks Sartoriani is a Savile Row tailor, each one has to differentiate in every way they can. And websites are one of the most important ways to do this – particularly today, when brands want to reach out to consumers scattered across the world.

You need to be able to browse a website, like you do a shop. Gucci is quite good, with videos and runway shows. But Hermes is the best in my opinion. Go to Hermes.com and click on the on-line boutique to browse products, or travel the world of Hermes to browse the brand. It makes Hermes seem unique, playful, luxurious. All brands need a site like this you can browse.

Good after-sales service at Ralph Lauren

The crotch on these trousers seems to be wearing through. That’s not good – I’ve only had them for nine months and worn them 15 times or so.

Grey flannel, too. You wouldn’t expect thicker material like that to wear through so fast. Indeed, I remember the Ralph Lauren salesperson telling me that the thickness of the material meant they should last, and consequently the trousers could be worn on their own occasionally. I’ve got to be in the West End anyway tomorrow; I’ll take them in to the store and see what they say.

I was pleasantly surprised. The after-sales service I received in the Ralph Lauren flagship store on Bond Street was impressive. So impressive, indeed, that I thought it was worth writing about. After all, if anything is going to distinguish a designer boutique from RL, which consciously tries to emulate the best traditions of British menswear, it should be its service.

The first sales assistant directed me to the manager, Adam. That entailed a five-minute wait while Adam was located, but then I’ve never objected to five minutes browsing in RL on Bond Street – did you know they now make that cable-knit cashmere into throws and cushions? Lovely stuff.

Adam was considerate, understanding, and said I had two choices. Either I could try and have it repaired by a tailor (mine own or theirs) or I could have a credit note for the whole suit. As the suit was sold as one item, it would have to be returned as a whole.

The problem with a credit note was that it would be for the price I paid in the sales (around £600), whereas the full-priced suit would be more like £900. But a new suit in January is better than a holey suit now, so I took the credit note. Adam was conciliatory, friendly and helpful again, suggesting I should ask the menswear sales assistants what they could do.

Which was where it got exciting. Upstairs, there were still some of the summer suits on sale – on one rack, at the back on the left, rather less prominent than the new stock. The ever-helpful assistant Gregor proceeded to dig around in this rack and produced a better suit for less money. Now that’s service. It was a Black Label suit that had been reduced from £1100 to £550 by this point in the sale. Given that the suit being replaced was Polo, this was an upgrade. Fortune smiles on the blogger.

The £50 saved will probably go on alterations, but the result was still very satisfactory. Good after-sales service and a little luck produced a great day of shopping, for free.

The rules and how to break them. No2

Rule 2: Do not wear brown in town.

It’s worth repeating my maxim from the first instalment in this series: “Rules are there for a reason, but there is nothing wrong with breaking them. These statements are not contradictory. Once you understand the rules, you can work out how to break them effectively.”

So, why does the rule ‘no brown in town’ exist? Because brown was the colour that a gentleman working in the city wore when he returned home, or on the weekend. During the week he wore black, blue or grey, all in suitably dark tones. Brown was the colour of the country, of tweed and felt hats; of shoes more than anything.

The colours of hats and shoes demonstrate this rule most effectively.

Shoes show how English the rule is. For decades other countries have worn shoes other than black for business without any implied lack of decency or formality. The Italians wore little other than brown, the French (though fairly conservative themselves) strayed into other colours, and the Americans developed a fondness for oxblood – as well as a love of brown in some areas.

But for the English, business meant black. They were therefore free to characterise anyone in brown shoes as off-duty, casual, and come up with a rhyming code like ‘no brown in town’ to remind anyone who was tempted to stray.

Hats show how practical the rule still is. Even today, most lovers of hats would say they do not wear a brown hat for business, sticking to blue and grey. In this slightly antiquated item of dress, therefore, the rule continues to be relevant, reminding people that they should treat business with the dignity it deserves (as the Austin Reed maxim goes).

However, the most important thing to realise about this rule is that it is out of date. Brown shoes, suits or jackets are no longer forbidden for business in England, or anywhere else. It is the spirit of the rule that is still relevant – wear business attire for business. In any office there will be items that would be considered unprofessional to wear. For some, that would be trainers, or jeans. In my office, unfortunately, the only thing that would probably be unacceptable would be shorts.

That is what the rule means, and understanding it allows you to break it intelligently. Wear brown, but make sure your attire is always and everywhere appropriate to the work you are doing.

Problem solved: sweaters with ties

Ok, here’s the problem. I like ties. Such is their ability to add an exciting dash of colour to an outfit, I prefer to wear one whenever possible. Yet sweaters have their advantages as well, and the two are hard to wear together.

Let me explain. If you wear a V-neck sweater with a shirt and tie, the back of the shirt’s collar is pulled forward, hugging the neck as its top button is fastened. The collar is at least an inch higher and probably half an inch closer to the neck that when that button is undone.

No V-neck sweater can cope adequately with both situations. Either it is bunched when your collar is undone, or (as is nearly always the case today) the sweater stands away from the collar when it is done up. So when you wear a sweater, shirt and tie, there is likely to be a gap, however slight, however variable, between your shirt collar and sweater at the back.

Some sweaters attempt to deal with this problem by adding a strip of felt to the inside of the back at the neck. Reiss often does this, even taking the effort to add a felt strip in a complementary colour. Unfortunately, it doesn’t really keep the sweater in place – rather like the rubber tabs that some tailors include in the inside of a trouser waistband.

Of course, a waistcoat wouldn’t have this problem, being both stiffer and tailored to fit a fastened collar. But that’s a different bias and a different argument.

If it’s sweaters you want, the key is a sweater with a collar. There are broadly three options (as illustrated by the three Ralph Lauren pictures opposite): the folded, shirt collar; the shawl collar; and the zip collar. I personally prefer the shirt collar, followed by the shawl. But this is largely a personal antipathy towards zipped sweaters born of some shoddy Gap varieties worn in my youth.

These collars solve the shirt/tie problem because they all have a greater rise at the back of the neck, avoiding any chance of a disconnection with the shirt.

I advocate the Ralph Lauren merino wool collared sweaters, which have only just been reintroduced for the fall/winter line this year. I bought one in a dark grey last year and found it so versatile and such good value that I looked for more. Unfortunately, they are not considered spring/summer items and so were put away until this month.

The other, secondary advantage of this look is that you can get away with some bold short/tie combinations, given that they only have a narrow triangle of wool to play in.

I quite liked the combination of a pink gingham shirt under a bright green tie (with red crests). It fizzed around the neck without any danger of overwhelming the outfit, thanks to the sombre grey surrounding it. A Paul Smith shirt decorated with small blue flowers also benefited from this limited exposure. Equally, one noticeable thing about Etro catwalk outfits is that many shirt/tie combinations look great under a sweater, but would look ridiculous worn on their own.

The rules and how to break them. No.1

Rule 1: Your trousers should fall so that there is one clean break at the front, and none at the back.

Rules are there for a reason, but there is nothing wrong with breaking them. These statements are not contradictory. That is one of the most important things to understand about the traditions of menswear.

All rules are there for a reason. They are useful rules of thumb that become formalised over time. And they become formalised because they have practical advantages that encourage men to apply them regularly.

So why is the generally recommended length for men’s trousers? Because it creates a clean line at the back of the trouser, adding to the lengthening silhouette that is the suit’s main aesthetic advantage. Because when a man is walking it looks more elegant if his suit trousers flap less and expose less of his ankle.

If the trouser were longer, it would create a puddle of folds that could ruin the silhouette of a suit, dragging the eye down and making a man look shorter. If the trouser were shorter, it would flap around the ankle and remove any elegance – probably reminding the viewer of a schoolboy in short pants.

That’s why the rule, or guideline, exists. But once you know this, there is nothing wrong with breaking it. Knowing why the rule is there helps you break it well.

For example, men on the European continent tend to wear their trousers shorter than is recommended here. They do that because they wish to expose their footwear, and perhaps their socks, to more inspection. Both are more a part of their outfit than for a English or American man. To quote one famous Italian “I don’t necessarily want people to see my socks, but I want to make sure they can see my shoes.”

Now, if men on the continent simply wore their trousers shorter, they would encounter the aforementioned problem with flapping. But they aware of the rules and why they exist. So they wear their trousers narrower as well, fitting them closer to the ankle and minimising any flapping. Hey presto: the shoe is on display, the silhouette is intact, but it is still possible to walk with elegance.

Once you know why the rules are there, you can work out how to break them effectively.

Step by step: The odd waistcoat

Picking out and wearing an odd waistcoat with a suit needs a little more explication.

The previous post on this topic produced some surprise and scepticism, both among friends and on my blog (Permanent Style). The reaction, I find, is similar to that enjoyed by a suggestion on ties with jeans. Both are looks I favour because they add a twist to classic style (to paraphrase Paul Smith); they demonstrate an understanding of men’s style without sticking to a rigid set of rules.

They are, however, both hard to pull off. As was pointed out, they are not for the uninitiated, as small things – the weight of the waistcoat, the material of the tie – turn them from personal style into cringe worthy quirk.

The key to wearing a tie with jeans is material, as explained in comments to that post. The more casual the material, the better – wool, cotton, linen, in that order; but never silk unless it is knitted (and even then it is perhaps a little too dressy). Proportion, also, is important, with the narrower and more lightweight the tie the less formal it appears.

The waistcoat is similar. One reader commented that an odd waistcoat with a suit is “just odd, dandified in the extreme.” I can understand this reaction entirely, especially as the odd waistcoat that springs to everyone’s mind is brightly coloured, or at least lightly coloured – such as the buff waistcoats worn to many formal occasions.

But I would argue that if this waistcoat is plain, dark and of a slightly more casual material - flannel works well - it can look very suitable (no pun intended). After all, it is only slightly more dressy than a V-neck sweater underneath a suit, and performs a similar function.

Another reader commented that “I would be careful about using the third piece of a three-piece suit as an odd waistcoat. Especially if it is a stripe.” The waistcoat must, of course, be plain. A striped sweater would be hard to work, but possible. A striped waistcoat would not.

It must also be dark, falling as a shadow to the suit rather than a highlight. Dark grey with a lighter grey, patterned suit, for example (a checked suit works better than a stripe again, I’ve found, probably because the check is inherently more sporty). Black, also, can work well, though perhaps a little funereal. To avoid this, stick with a blue shirt, not white.

As if to prove my point, Kilgour has just come out with a selection of odd waistcoats in black and blue wool with its Autumn/Winter collection. I personally prefer the range without white piping (unlike the item pictured). But the suggestion that the customer might like to wear it with his winter, flannel suit demonstrates how far Kilgour has already run with this idea.

Also, having tried one of these on in the Savile Row store, the great thing about the Kilgour odd waistcoat is that it is cut much longer than the average part of a three-piece suit. This reflects the fact that men tend to wear their trousers on the hips rather than the waist today, yet the waistcoat should leave no exposed shirting between it and the waistband. A perennial problem (see the second part of The Waistcoat Theory for more) has been solved.

Why no silk socks?

One of my favourite things about wearing black tie is silk socks. In particular, the lovely pair of Brooks Brothers black, silk, full-calf socks I own. They rarely get worn except at black-tie events, and are therefore as much a part of the ceremony as the bow tie or the shirt studs.

Every time I wear them I am amazed by how cool silk is. Somehow, they feel cooler than bare legs. Each time an ankle is exposed or you remove a shoe, a gust of cold air rushes over the skin, as if it the silk were taking breath. Bare skin doesn’t do that.

Silk is used in wool mixes for a similar reason. Summer, cashmere sweaters often contain a percentage of silk as it is good at keeping you cool in heat and warm in cold. While wool on its own is very good at ventilation (which is why all the old cycling jerseys were made from loose-weave wool), the silk makes the material a good summer weight.

The same applies to socks. Many cashmere socks contain a percentage of silk in order to make them more usable day to day. (I recommend the Pantherella wool mix sock, which contains 17% silk alongside cashmere.) Without silk, cashmere socks are really only good for the coldest of winter days or for wearing around the house.

Which brings me to the title of this post. If silk is so breathable and comfortable, why does no one sell silk socks for everyday dress use? A 100% silk sock has a sheen to it, and is a little transparent, so I can understand why these would not be practical. But why not silk/cotton mixes? Surely a minority percentage of silk in a cotton sock would make it more breathable without any noticeable difference in texture?

For an answer, I turned to my local tailor here in the City, PA Crowe of 11 Ludgate Square. His response: “Silk socks are not considered to wear well, lasting proportionately less time than cotton or wool. Plus some people say they pull a little on the heel, retaining their shape less well and becoming uncomfortable over time.”

Both of these are good reasons why silk socks are fine for special occasions – they are worn infrequently and usually only in the evening.

However, a silk/cotton mix sock would suffer far less from these problems. The biggest reason they are not manufactured in bulk, in turns out, is economy. Combining the two is expensive and the market is untested.

Instead, PA Crowe recommends Cotton Lisle – a much finer cotton that has some of the properties of silk. But I maintain that someone should begin offering cotton/silk mix socks. Has anyone seen any on sale anywhere?

Permanent Style published in India

Indian luxury magazine Spice has published a Permanent Style article – the profile of New York store Leffot that appeared here on June 13.

The full piece can be viewed on the Leffot blog here.

Interesting facts on loafers!

Well, I found them interesting. Largely because no one had ever told me them before. You probably know them already. Here goes.

Loafers are for people who loaf. And you’ll never guess who people that loaf are. They’re Norwegian farmers off to see their cows. You see, the cattle loafing area is the place on a farm where the cows are taken to be milked. And Norwegian farmers used a certain, convenient slip-on shoe to get out to this loafing area. Hence it’s called a loafer.

The shoe was launched by the announcement of this discovery in a 1932 story in Esquire magazine. (Yes, Esquire used to be a superlative style magazine. Bible even. Then it was relaunched in the 1980s as an all-things-to-all-men magazine, also known as a no-things-to-all-men magazine. Oh well. Bring back Esquire/Apparel Arts, that’s what I say.)

That Norwegian shoe must have been different to the slip-ons we see today. Only the very rich or eccentric would go out to milk his cows in his Gucci loafers with classic riding bit. Think of the mud. But the idea was there – the design built of necessity, a simple shoe that could be popped on for a brief job outside, and removed with ease when you returned to the house.

Similar, in a way, to the reason so many more people wear loafers for flying these days. It’s much quicker to check you’re not a shoe bomber.

This brings us on to my second exciting fact. The loafer is often referred to in the US as a Weejun because it sounds like the last two syllables of Norwegian. Perhaps you knew that already, but I didn’t. Imagine how satisfying the mental connection was. So instant; so obvious.

It turns out that just two years after the Esquire story, in 1934, John R Bass, Maine shoemaker of repute, introduced a loafer with a bar bridge across it, and christened it the Weejun to sound like Norwegian. The bar bridge was supposedly shaped like Mr Bass’s wife’s lips. It was as if Mrs Alice Bass were kissing the feet of her husband as he left the house every day.

Last but certainly not least, when the Bass Weejun became popular on US campuses in the 1950s it was occasionally used by students to carry a penny or a dime, in the event of an emergency phone call. Hence the penny loafer. Any or all of these facts may be erroneous, mythical or just plain made up (would the penny fall out if you ran anywhere?). But they are satisfying – a stylistic, philological and cultural history rolled into one.

As mentioned in a previous debate on slip-on shoes (Reader’s question: The deck shoe) I prefer the more elegant, less chunky slip-on. This season, Paul Smith’s dark green or red “Marcello” loafers are worth a look. Let’s face it, you probably don’t have any red or green slip-ons already.

Reader question: Odd waistcoats

Arctin Pengiun: Do you feel that a vest patterned to match slack or the rest of a suit is too much and that a vest should always contrast the rest of the outfit? Does this fit into your definition of ‘costume’? I am curious about your thoughts.

Tintin: I’m wearing [a waistcoat] now. Lilac with mother mother-of-pearl buttons. The DB vest is sooo British. I’m afraid I’ll be shot for wearing this vest much less a DB.

There appeared to be a slight miscommunication regarding my previous posting on double-breasted waistcoats. I have to confess that the illustration I provided was probably at fault: while I was discussing waistcoats that are part of a three-piece suit, and therefore match both the jacket and trousers, the illustration showed an odd (i.e. non-matching) buff waistcoat.

The illustration was too lovely not to include, but it obviously led some to the wrong conclusions.

All my recommendations in that previous post, and indeed all others relating to The Waistcoat Theory, refer to the third piece of a three-piece suit. This third element is, I maintain, elegant and intensely practical today. When most men in the office don’t wear a jacket, the waistcoat keeps their tie prim and their silhouette long.

Odd waistcoats are hard to wear well unless one is at a formal event. For formal daywear, buff (yellow) and a variety of other pale colours have long been worn to enliven an otherwise grey ensemble. The best days to see such an outfit in days gone by were a church occasion, such as Easter. Today, they are only really seen at weddings and horse racing. On these occasions they can look great, though personally I still prefer a pale-grey three piece. Subtle style wins every time.

And this is the dominant problem with the odd waistcoat. Tintin’s lilac waistcoat sounds lovely, but I find myself hard pressed to think when I would wear it. Certainly never for work, and it seems an odd item to wear casually – a dressier piece of clothing for a less dressy situation. Much of this is personal taste, though, and the wider varieties of casual wear are beyond the scope of this blog.

To answer Mr Penguin’s question, no, I believe the waistcoat should nearly always match the rest of the suit you are wearing.

If you are to wear an odd waistcoat with a suit the two rules to bear in mind are: keep your jacket on whenever you can; and keep the waistcoat dark and plain.

Think of the odd waistcoat in the same way as a sweater. A V-necked sweater underneath a suit can look very stylish. A forest green with a mid-grey suit, for instance, or a dark purple with navy (one of my favourite ever Sartorialist shots featured a purple jumper under a navy blazer. Scott commented that it was looks like that that inspire him in menswear. I couldn’t agree more.)

However, that sweater looks good when it is dark and plain, and when it is peeping out from under the jacket. Without the jacket, the outfit is just a sweater and slacks – the style has gone. Suddenly the sweater is the outfit, rather than being an accent.

So for odd waistcoats, think plain complements. For example, I have a dark-grey three-piece suit. The waistcoat looks good under a lighter grey check suit. I also have a tan herringbone waistcoat that I think works well with a dark brown suit.