Remember, leather stretches

Shoemakers can do a lot to help you decide which size is right for you. They can feel in which places your foot is hard against the edge. They can judge the clearance at the instep by how far the laces tighten. And they can look for any slippage of your heel. In the case of Lodger, they can even scan your foot to compare the fit with different lasts electronically.

But in the end, the true arbiter of fit is you. Only you know where it squeezes, where it is loose and where it hurts.

So you need to understand how leather changes. As it is a skin, it will stretch under pressure and reform. To a certain extent it will shape to your foot. This is reduced the more seams there are – leather stretches, seams don’t. So a full brogue will adapt much less than a whole-cut.

As a general rule, then, it is worth getting the size of shoe that is a little bit small, rather than a little bit big.

I had this choice when trying on a pair of shoes recently. The size 8.5 was very comfortable, but it laced all the way up with no gap at all between the facings. So over time, I knew that the shoe would become a little loose. And the right (smaller) foot already had a very small amount of slippage at the heel. I’ve solved this problem in the past with tongue pads (see post here). But that is obviously less than ideal.

The size 8 had greater room to lace up, but was tight across the ball of the foot. Not painful, but a little uncomfortable. So what to do?

Well, fortunately I have two pairs of shoes to compare to: two Edward Greens (rebranded as Ralph Lauren), one a full brogue and one a monk strap, one in an 8.5 and one in an 9. The 8.5 took a fair amount of wearing in; it was uncomfortable for months. But it now fits perfectly and will last for decades. The 9, on the other hand, was incredibly comfortable from the start but is now a little large – it required an extra hole in the strap.

The choice, really, is yours. Sometimes a shoe will fit perfectly, but often one will be a little bit big and one a little bit small. Then you have to choose: fit now or fit later.

It is also a question of personal preference to an extent – don’t forget that. Some people prefer their shoes a little loose all the time. Think back over previous experience and try and work out which you prefer. And bear in mind that leather will stretch.

Why your Gucci doesn't fit

Ever wondered why your Dolce & Gabbana jacket fits you so well but the Gucci just isn’t right? Well, it’s Antonio Bracciani’s fault.

Bracciani is not a designer, a marketer or a manager. He is a fit model. And most of the clothes in the retail collections of Gucci, Prada, Burberry, Z Zegna and Calvin Klein Collection have been made to fit his body. Not yours, not mine, but his.

So if you happen to be 72″ tall with a 33″ waist, have a 39″ chest and 38″ hips, and exactly 18.5″ shoulders with a 15.7″ collar, everything will fit you. (184cm tall with an 84cm waist, 100cm chest and 98cm hips, 47cm shoulders and a 40cm collar.) Otherwise it will always be a little bit off.

These proportions are scaled up to the various chest and waist sizes used to classify jackets and trousers. So the precise measurements are less important than the ratios – if you are that little bit bigger than Antonio in every area, the suit might still fit you perfectly.

Antonio has kept the same figure he had when he was 18, through a steady diet and exercise regime. He spends most of his working days standing very still, having clothes fitted on him for hours on end. A slightly unusual occupation, but one that leaves plenty of time for planning his future – setting up an agency for fit models and other unsung jobs in the industry, like pattern cutters. Because you’re not going to stay the same size forever. (Although Armani’s current fit model is 55-years old – Antonio is only 32.)

Antonio is interviewed in the Spring/Summer 2009 edition of Fantastic Man, which has the best quality of writing of any of the men’s quarterly/bi-annual titles. Unfortunately, little of it is about style, but at least the journalism is good. And the piece in question was by Charlie Porter, probably the most consistently worth reading of British style writers.

The Seasonals section at the back of the magazine, however, deserves mention for other reasons. It is normally an insightful look at the various clothes and accessories that could make up an outfit for the season. This time the model wears tight, mid-thigh denim shorts, with a skin-coloured vest tucked in. Over the top is a cream sweater with a slashed neck and hemline that stops way short of the belly button. Finish it off with a white, shapeless Mac. Apparently.

My 50-year-old black tie

I had heard ‘stories’ about treasures found in second-hand shops before. The way it goes, one day the author is browsing through the racks while his girlfriend tries on shoes, and all of a sudden he discovers an Anderson & Sheppard suit in exactly the right size.

It seemed a little unlikely.

Nevertheless, whenever I happened to be in any vintage shop (as second-hand has rebranded itself) I usually skimmed through the suit racks. For the sake of speed, I simply ignored any jacket where I could see a label, as a Savile Row suit will only ever have its label on the inside of the pocket.

A few years of (half-hearted) searching had turned up nothing. So my heart leapt when I was doing the normal skim in a vintage shop in York and found a tuxedo without a visible label. An exploration of the inside pocket found a tag bearing the name Lesley and Roberts, of Hanover Square. I’d never heard of them and passed on.

That evening, some research online discovered Lesley and Roberts listed with the address 20 Savile Row. Turns out the firm was bought up by Welsh and Jeffries (famously of that address) in 1999. I should have known that really. And Lesley and Roberts has a sterling reputation – tailor to Bing Crosby and much of the UK entertainment business in the forties and fifties.

Two quick calls followed. One to the shop (Priestley’s, which I have written about before) to reserve the suit and ask what name was written on the label. Then a second to Welsh and Jeffries, to confirm the Lesley and Roberts heritage and, as excitingly, to inquire whether the firm had ever made suits for UK film director Michael Powell.

For that was the name on the tag – made for Michael Powell, Esq. in March 1955. Given that only a precious few could afford Savile Row bespoke in those days (a smaller proportion than today, which may surprise some) and the firm’s heritage with the entertainment industry, it was worth asking. And yes, Michael Powell was a client. Welsh and Jeffries couldn’t confirm that he was the only client by that name, because the full book wasn’t inherited with the takeover. But close enough.

(For those readers not familiar with British film, Powell is one of the most famous English directors, authoring a series of films with Emeric Pressburger that included A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes. Unfortunately, though, it turns out this suit was made after he appeared at the Oscars, in 1943 and 1949.)

So, the suit. The first thing you notice is the weight of the cloth. Heavier than even my winter flannels or tweeds. Then you notice the facings on the lapels of the jacket and waistcoat: silk rather than satin, which actually seems rather matte compared to modern suits but has greater texture and depth to it.

The trousers are very wide with a very high rise. With a fishtail back, they are designed to sit on your natural waist (around the belly button if not above) and be worn with braces. Once you put them on with the waistcoat, you realise the real point of pleats. Four elegant pleats enable the trousers to get up over the hip bone and come to a very narrow waist – you just couldn’t do that with flat fronts.

Combining that silhouette with a short, cropped waistcoat creates a very exaggerated shape (indeed, in Brideshead Revisited the heroes have suits from Lesley and Roberts with a “wasp waist”). As the natural waist is the narrowest part of most people’s bodies, having your trousers there produces the biggest contrast with the width of the shoulders.

It doesn’t half make you feel buttoned up when you wear it though. The trousers are all-encompassing and my shirt has a strip of elastic to button into them. Plus, the tailor that altered them for me (Graham Browne) added another strip of elastic behind the waistcoat to button into the trousers, to make sure no white shirt ever peaked between the two.

Oh, and of course you have to take your jacket and waistcoat off in order to go to the bathroom, as the braces are hidden beneath both.

Quite a palaver. But then £150 for a bespoke-quality suit (plus alteration costs) is pretty impressive value. The hand detailing is impressive, particularly around details like the buttonhole. Sewing a neat buttonhole in corded silk is not easy, particularly when the slit is not parallel to the cords. Indeed, that is one reason many tailors do not put them in today.

The only thing I would change is the lapels, which are notch rather than peak. Having emphasised to a reader named Paul last week how the peak harks back to the tradition of tails, this feels like a failure. But I’ll just have to swallow my pride and accept that fashions come and go, even on Savile Row.

Tips from Jeeves

As regular readers will know, the search for truly old-fashioned craftsmen is one of the purposes of this blog. And while I would never recommend or compare services I had not personally experienced (an area where some of the style forums fall down), it is worth mentioning that Jeeves dry cleaners has a sterling reputation.

The services are apparently excellent, but then for the prices it charges they should be (£31 to dry clean a suit, £50 to replace half of a sole). The advice it gives clients is also worth highlighting. The more unique recommendations are:

- Hang your suits up in the wardrobe with just the shoulders covered, to prevent dust. Cut off the top of a dry-cleaning cover to do this. Do not hang fully covered. [I would prefer to use breathable, fabric suit bags I have to say.]
- Hang your suit outside of the wardrobe for two hours before putting away. [Probably effective but something I’m unlikely to remember.]

On the technical, stain-related side, the helpful tips are:

- Never rub a stain. Blot with a paper towel, one on each side. In particular, rubbing silk, wool or linen may result in the permanent removal of the dye. This may be accentuated by dry cleaning.
- Equally, adding any liquid usually makes things worse. Water-based stains are harder for the dry cleaner to deal with, so adding water creates this and helps the stain spread. It will also loosen the dye. The same applies to wine, soda water and salt.
- Heat helps create a ‘developed stain’, which can be more permanent. So do not press, iron or otherwise heat it.
- Watch out for clear liquids like lemonade or champagne, which might not appear to stain at first but will develop a yellow/brown stain over time from the sugar they contain.

The interesting point for me on these first two tips is that they reflect what is easiest for the dry cleaner. If you want to self-treat the stain, the old tips about white wine on red wine etc. apply. But the cleaner would always want to have an unadulterated stain to work with. So no water or rubbing, no matter how tempting it might be.

Two last tips for skin products (leather or suede):

- A small stain on suede may be removed with a hard Indian rubber using a gentle circular motion.
- If you are buying a skin garment, make sure all the panels inside and out are the same colour and texture. This is the key way to tell a quality garment.

Reader question: Suit for work and play

Hsin Qin Tang: I have been following your blog for over two years now. I have learned many things and I would like to know your opinion on what to wear for an upcoming occasion. My eldest sister is getting married this August and the wedding dinner is going to be held in Singapore.

I am looking to purchase my first suit and I was hoping you’d be able to help me out. I will also be going to Brighton, UK this September to study. I was hoping the suit might be able to come in handy there as well. I would appreciate it if you are able to get into the details, down to the smallest one. I realise I have not included my budget. I’d like to hear what you say first.

This question from Hsin Qin was far longer in the original, and requested information on everything from material for buttons to belt loops versus braces.

Hsin Qin, I will try to be brief and so fit in as much advice as possible – but as a regular reader of the blog I’m sure you realise many of the things I leave out are questions of personal taste. And there is more extensive advice elsewhere on the site (use that search function until it breaks!).

Broadly, there are two options for a wedding as a member of the general party: traditional and summer. Today, most men wear linen suits, checked suits, loud suits. They wear suits that used to be worn for leisure – except that no one wears a suit on the weekend any more.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but traditionally a wedding would be a lot smarter than the working week, not less. So the lounge suit would be swapped for tails or a three-piece suit, perhaps a nice peaked-lapel stroller with a buff waistcoat. If these were not available, a man would wear the single smartest thing he had from his work attire. This would probably be a dark navy, single-breasted suit, with a crisp white shirt and a satin tie in silver or bronze. Top it off with a white linen pocket square and a boutonnière.

If I were you, Hsin Qin, I would go for this last option. Then you will also have a navy suit to wear when you move to these great British Isles. With a blue shirt and dark, striped tie, it will be perfect for interviews and such.

As to the other details, have it made bespoke in Singapore if you know somewhere good. Go for two vents, two navy horn buttons, notch lapels, dark lining, medium weight, side tabs, uncuffed, slanted pockets, one break, matching socks and no tie bar. These choices are all for versatility and the maximum in time-proof style.

Reader question: Covering the black tie waist

MC: Simon, I’m interested in your thoughts on a waistcoat pairing for my upcoming wedding. My tuxedo is single button, peak lapel (grosgrain). I have flexibility on the shirt style (wing or standard collar) and the waistcoat. Would you recommend a particular style to complement the single button, peak lapel jacket? Would a double-breasted waistcoat be out of the question under a single-breasted jacket? What about collar type and colour (black or white pique)? If you think a particular style of waistcoat would be best, I’d be interested in the style of shirt you’d pair with it as well. Thanks for your thoughts.

Right, let’s start with the easy points. Most black-tie jackets have one button. So there is no specific style of waistcoat that is going to suit this style of jacket – they all will. The only thing to bear in mind is that you want the waistcoat to just peak over the top of the fastening of the jacket – not invisible but not protruding either. That will affect the height of the waistcoat you pick.

There is nothing wrong with a double-breasted waistcoat. A single breast is more conventional and normal, and a double is more formal – as it harks back to the waistcoats on full fig, or white tie, which were often double breasted.

As to the colour of the waistcoat, the normal and more conventional colour would be black. In the same material as the jacket, with the same grosgrain on the lapels (usually a shawl collar ending in squared-off ends). There is, however, a lot of flexibility here. The waistcoat could be collarless and it could be entirely in grosgrain. It could also be backless or not.

A white piqué waistcoat would be more formal and unusual. Nothing wrong with it, but generally white waistcoats were worn with white tie and black with black tie. But then, strictly speaking you could wear a white bow tie with black tie, as counter-intuitive as it seems. Personally, I would rather like a white waistcoat as it is not incorrect and is a little different.

However, the most important thing is the relationship between the waistcoat and shirt. The waistcoat is made to fit and suit a particular shirt, and this must be born in mind. So a white waistcoat, being very formal, must be worn with a stiff-fronted shirt and wing collar (also formal). Some may argue that the collar should be starched and detachable (very formal). With a black waistcoat you have a little more freedom – fold-down or wing collar is fine.

Also bear in mind the shape of the shirtfront – an oval front best suits a waistcoat with an oval neckline. And a straight up-and-down, pleated shirtfront usually suits a cummerbund best – both being less formal than the options just mentioned.

So the key is balancing the formality of your outfit. And match the waistcoat to the shirt, not to the jacket.

A new (dashing) tailor discovered

Good tailors for adjustments to suits, trousers and shirts are not always easy to find. There is a raft of pretty poor establishments dotted around London, staffed by dressmakers or general tailors with no specific experience of men’s tailoring.

For the last few years I have used a small outfit in Mayfair called Atelier Colpani (on Avery Row, parallel to Bond Street), which is where both Etro and Paul Smith send their customers’ alterations. However, while the work has been excellent Colpani has two chief failings: they are not specifically men’s tailors and they are in the West End, while I work in the City.

I was pleased last week, therefore, to find a bespoke tailor nearby that also does alterations: Graham Browne.

Based in Well Court, just off Bow Lane and close to Bank tube station, Graham Browne is a tailor established in 1968. Previously of Little Britain (next to St Paul’s) the firm specialises in bespoke but also does alterations – both are very reasonably priced, with bespoke starting at £790 and my adjustment to the waist of a jacket coming in at £20.

The work was well done and it was nice to see a tailor interested in the work of others: the staff inquired where my jacket had been made. It was the work of Edward Tam, someone regular readers of this blog will be very familiar with. I was pleased to hear that they approved of Edward’s work, and commented that “it is certainly among the best of the work we see out of Asia.”

An inspection of the seams confirmed that it had all been sewn by hand and fully canvassed. The only constructive criticism of Edward was that “perhaps the stitches could be a little closer together for strength.” As I have had the jacket for two years and heavy wear has produced no failed stitches, they seem to be working pretty well (no pun intended).

For those interested in Graham Browne’s bespoke work, all the measuring, cutting and pattern making is done on site. The sewing is done by a team in north London. Graham Browne has also been involved in making tweed cycling suits using the innovative material developed by Guy Hills and Kirsty McDougall of Dashing Tweeds.


The latest example of a suit in this material can be seen on the Graham Browne website (and is pictured above), a suit for Gary Fisher – the founder of the cycle company of the same name.

While I was in the store I also saw a thick shirt-jacket in production. Entirely unlined but of a thick tweedy material, it is affectionately referred to by the staff as their lumberjack shirt.

New Facebook group for Permanent Style

Due to popular request (well, two people) there is now a Facebook group for Permanent Style, where fans of the blog can keep up to date on new posts and comments, as well as creating their own debate around contentious issues. Fans can also share experiences of tailors, brands and styles.

The group is located here. You can also log in to Facebook as normal and search for PERMANENT STYLE.

Becoming a fan on the group will mean that new blogs are posted as updates on your Facebook page. I'm pleased to say that one fan has already been kind enough to comment: "Simo Flymo, you are a very talented man. LOVE your blog :-) x"

The reason for the nickname is not important.

Ignore GQ and cold-beer tailors

This month’s GQ features an unfortunate example of how not to have a suit made in Hong Kong.

The column in the Talk section features a description of a flying visit to the (in)famous Sam’s Tailor. Sam is famous for having walls decorated with famous people posing in his shop, including Tony Blair and Bill Clinton. Sam is infamous for being more of a tourist destination than a tailor.

Although one of the best known tailors in Kowloon, I have heard almost no positive reports about Sam’s work. A friend of mine went to him when he first moved to Hong Kong, two years ago now. Sam took long one look at my friend, dismissed him with a hand and refused to measure him. That was left to a lackey, and Sam disappeared. The process and the result were a little disappointing, both from a fit and a quality point of view.

A quick search of the style forums reveals similar stories. One member reports: “Sam’s is most definitely a tourist destination more than anything. I am quite impressed that Sam has managed to get pictures with so many famous individuals, but I’d bet money that was their one and only visit to Sam’s. I do speak from experience as I had a tuxedo made at WW Chan at the same time a friend had one made at Sam’s. There really is no comparison. Chan is a true tailor while Sam is only a notch above all the guys plying Western tourists with offers for $200 suits as soon as they step off the Star Ferry in Kowloon.”

The other tailor mentioned here, WW Chan, has a very strong reputation but is considerably more expensive. But for the same price as Sam, ($300-$400) one can get a handmade suit from my own Hong Kong tailor, Edward Tam (contact details upon request).

There are, unfortunately, a lot of tailors in Hong Kong playing off the fact that many people go there to have suits made and the majority know nothing about suits – material, construction or fit. But there are two obvious points that should immediately have told GQ that Sam’s was a poor-quality establishment.

Firstly, Sam offered the GQ reporter a cold beer as soon as he entered. A regular tactic of tailors in Asia and one which, residents tell me, the tailors are always surprised to find has a remarkably positive effect on tourists (how cheap we are!).

Secondly, and less jokingly, the GQ reporter had his whole suit made in 24 hours. No fitting, no opportunity for adjustments. Just measurements and then the final suit. No self-respecting tailor would offer this as standard.

They know the client doesn’t know many of the things he should specify. Do you know the width of trousers you want? Do you know how long you want the jacket? If you don’t ask, the first will be too wide and the second too long in Asia. And they know that no tailor makes a perfect suit straight off, without seeing it on the body. It needs to be tweaked and tucked. Perhaps if the client were a repeat customer. But for a first-timer? Never.

So ignore GQ. This isn’t the first time it has recommended Sam the Tailor.

Navy stripe: The most useful tie

From a purely logical standpoint, the most useful tie you will own is a navy-blue club stripe. Followed by a brown or burgundy in the same pattern.

The first reason is that a dark tie is more versatile than a pale tie. It is more sober, more business-like and, outside of work, can play the supporting role to more adventurous clothing combinations.

Second, the most useful dark colour it can be in is navy blue. As with suits, which are most practical in the base colours of grey and blue, ties in either navy blue or silver are versatile enough to produce an outfit for an interview or presentation (try the classic blue suit and grey tie, or vice versa) and to combine with other patterns and colours. Both go easily with every colour of shirt (white, pink, blue and others) and most colours of suit.

Navy, however, is more practical at anchoring adventurous patterns and colours in the suit or shirt. As explained in my theory on The Italian Background, a blue tie and blue shirt is often used by gentlemen of that country to accompany daring materials, such as tan gabardine, bold glen plaids and pale linens. Navy is more useful than grey.

However, as the third leg of my argument, I would argue that a tie with a bold stripe is more practical than a plain one. It can accompany three other patterns (shirt, suit, handkerchief) or none. It can rise above patterned shirts and fairly bold pinstriped suits, its strength of pattern and contrast being almost impossible to match. And it is reserved and therefore multifaceted. Some may argue that a large-pattern club tie, with crests for example, would be more practical as it will never clash with the pattern of a shirt or suit; I would argue its occasions for wear are slightly more limited.

For these reasons, a navy-blue club-stripe tie is most practical tie you can own. If you only own one tie, make it this one.

Of course, few men are likely to be in that position. This is a slightly pointless argument. But it amuses me and, I hope, convinces some of the importance of both navy and club stripes in a tie collection.

By the way, the English call it a club stripe because men wore it in the colours of their club to denote membership. A club tie normally means one with crests rather than stripes. In the US, these ties are normally known as repp ties. This, however, does not refer to the stripe but to the diagonal ribbing (from which repp is a corruption) of the silk.

The Rake is now online

The Rake is simply the best magazine for classic men's style out there. It is only three issues old, and already it has featured the history of Brioni, a technical explanation of the seven-fold tie and an analysis of the fit of both trousers and coats.

Now, you can read a sample of it online at the magazine's new website - www.therakeonline.com. Check out the detail on Anderson & Sheppard's fit.

The rules and how to break them. No.6

Rule 6: Black tie must be bound by tradition

In my previous post, one reader commented: “You did a good job of pointing out common ‘sins’ of black tie attire, yet I feel you could explain better why these things are sins. I understand that you might call tradition the entire point of black tie, but I’d be interested in hearing what the actual downsides of breaking these rules would be.” The post can be seen here.

This is a great point. Yes, to a certain extent tradition is the point of black tie. It is one of the few last bastions of dictated dress, where an actual sense of propriety bounds one to wear certain clothes. Beyond some award events, balls and Ascot, nowhere is the modern man restricted one particular mode of dress by his fear of offence.

Whether that is good or bad is debateable. But like all the rules I have described in this series, the rules of black tie are there for practical reasons.

Black tie aims at two things. First, make the man look as smart as possible – to be appropriate to the importance of the occasion. Second, create contrast in material and texture – to create striking effects in dark rooms or under bright lights.

So what makes a man look smart? Well, custom has always been that a shirt is less smart than a jacket. And you can see why: thicker, less crumpled material in a darker colour.

So keep the amount of shirt on display to a minimum: keep your jacket on and wear a waistcoat or cummerbund to cover the triangle of shirt material that appears below the button. Plus, the messiest part of a man’s shirt tends to be around the waist, where it untucks, and the untidiest part of the trousers is the waist where they fasten.

It is hard to dispute that a long, clean silhouette created by a waistcoat and trousers is smarter than one without the top half.

Other things that make a man look smart are a stiff shirtfront (stiff being smarter than soft) and calf-length silk socks (a smoother texture and no wrinkles).

The second aim of black tie, to create contrast in texture, is achieved by a matte finish to the suit and trousers, contrasting with shiny lapels, trouser seams, bow tie and shoes. Hence the reason for patent pumps or Oxfords. (Also note that the seams to the trousers are covered as this is considered smarter: reveal as few of the fastenings and workings of a suit as possible. Also, this is why the buttons are usually covered in the material of the suit.)

As to my second sin, notch lapels, this holds no practical purpose other than to distinguish black tie from the lounge suit. It is sharper and more rakish. I think it is worth maintaining these differences, but recognise that there is little practical reason for it.

Carréducker show and training

A quick note to readers in New York that Leffot will be holding a trunk show for Carréducker on Saturday, May 9. Carréducker makes fine shoes in the UK and, most interestingly, runs courses for those interested in learning how to handmake shoes. The course takes three weeks and costs £1270. Just in case anyone out there wants to get me a present...

The three black-tie sins

Criticism of what people wear to black-tie events tends to focus on obvious sins: wearing a lounge suit, wearing a coloured tie and wearing a long tie instead of a bow (though this is less objectionable than one may think). These are some of the biggest sins against the traditions of the dinner outfit, and stand out as such. They also stand out because they are committed by a relatively small number of people.

For that reason, I don’t think they are the greatest black-tie sins. They’re big, but they’re rare. More important are the small sins committed by almost everyone. Those demonstrate how disconnected the ensemble is from its traditions, despite the apparent uniformity on display.

Sin 1: Cover your waist

This is the greatest sin, so it comes first.

Every black-tie outfit needs to cover the waistband of the trousers in some way. That is an indisputable fact. This covering can take one of three forms: a waistcoat, a cummerbund or a double-breasted jacket.

A waistcoat should be the standard. If you’re wearing a single-breasted dinner jacket, something needs to cover up your shirt – particularly if the jacket only has one button.

A shirt with a stiff, oval front makes this obvious: only the stiff part is meant to show, the rest is covered up by a waistcoat. But even a soft-fronted shirt needs a covering. Even though its pleats form a rectangle on the front of the shirt, and even though they go all the way down to the waistband, that waistband must be covered.

This waistcoat can be black or white. White is less common and more formal, echoing as it does white tie or full fig. It can also be full or backless. If white, it should be made of the same Marcella as the shirt front. If black, it should be the same wool as the trousers.

The cummerbund was invented in the subcontinent as an alternative to the waistcoat for hot weather. It was originally a sash simply tie around the waist.

But what proportion of men at a black-tie event have some form of waist covering? Twenty per cent? Fifteen even? That’s why it’s the greatest sin.

Sin 2: Notch lapels

Most suits have notch lapels; dinner jackets should not have them. At some point, the black-tie industry forgot, or simply got lazy, and conflated the two.

A peaked lapel is more formal, aggressive and rakish. It suits black tie where it wouldn’t suit the decorum of day-to-day business. All dinner jackets, single or double-breasted, should have peak lapels. Yet a significant number (40%? 45%?) of men at a black-tie event will have notch lapels.

(Eagle-eyed readers will notice that my own velvet jacket, worn as black tie, has notch lapels. What can I say? My wardrobe is far from complete and the jacket was a vintage piece to trial a look. It’s on the list to upgrade.)

Sin 3: Shoes

The best shoe to wear with black tie is a patent pump with a grosgrain bow. Second on the list is a patent Oxford. Third is a plain black Oxford, without brogueing and preferably wholecut. All three are acceptable but are less impressive further down the list.

Yet how many men wear pumps? Probably zero. How many patent Oxfords? Perhaps 10%. And of the remainder wearing black leather shoes, there is probably a healthy chunk (again, perhaps 45%) wearing brogues, Derbys, boots or monk straps. So another low-level but popular sin. Multiplying number by grade of sin makes it a greater offence than a long tie.

The butcher's stripe

If you feel like adding a little strength to the stripe in your shirt this summer, the best option is a wider, butcher’s stripe.

I can’t stand the multicoloured and multi-width stripes that were fashionable a few years ago – you know the ones, sold a lot in Thomas Pink, looked a little like a faded version of the Paul Smith stripe, seemed to be worn by everyone that either worked in marketing or lived in Islington.

No, keep the colours simple and ramp up the scale. That creates a look that is classic yet bold.

I particularly recommend a strong stripe like this if you tend to wear your shirt open-necked. There is something a little sad about a shirt that would look so much better with a partnered tie – and yet is denied it. Especially if the lack of decoration around the neck is not made up by colour and pattern in a pocket handkerchief.

Not that the butcher’s stripe cannot be worn with a tie. As long as it is plain in colour, or the pattern is sufficiently different, that’s fine (as in the image – where the spots are sufficiently different and an almost equal scale).

You’d struggle to have a pattern with a bigger scale than the shirt, and even if you did (a widely spaced club stripe, for example) the effect may be for the combination to overwhelm everything – you included.

By the way, it is consistently surprising the assumptions that Americans make about the traditions of Jermyn Street and how they affect men today. In Esquire’s recent Big Black Book, for example, it says: “Bolder stripes are rarely seen in the American workplace. In London’s financial district, it’s the polar opposite. The classic City trader’s shirt might carry half-inch stripes of pink, red, yellow or sky blue.”

I’m not sure the writer has ever worked in the London’s financial district. What he describes may have been the tradition (and how Jermyn Street got started) but it is hardly the case today. Yes, Americans still wear a lot more plain white shirts than us. But there is still a depressing number of Englishmen working in the City that express their personality in their ties and little else.

By the way, because I know you want to know, the butcher’s stripe is so named because it recollects the size of stripe traditionally worn on a butcher’s apron.

Permanent style: What took you so long?

How fashion writers do love a theme. Every time the shows roll around, there they are – in the front row (if they’re lucky), pens at the ready, all desperately searching for a theme that will tie all the different collections together.

They all have exactly the same brief after all: write an article reviewing the shows, telling readers what to expect this season. One article means one theme. With a few other observations tacked on the end. The complexity of designers’ thoughts is lost, the intricate suggestions boiled down to one idea.

This season, journalists are desperate to tie the fashion shows to the economy. What is ‘recession chic’? How have designers reacted to lower budgets? Is the rigour of big business dragging back the extravagance of design?

Everyone has reached the same conclusion. Depressed times mean conservative, worn-in investment pieces. The colour palette must be dark, the silhouettes simple and the items are classic.

They didn’t really need the shows to come up with that result; it was always going to be the same, no matter what came down the catwalks. Ignore the fact that Comme des Garçons showed pointy lime-green hats and leopard-print slippers; act with surprise when the winter collections are darker than summer. We need a theme and we need one now – a recession collection must be sombre and it must be conservative.

The only advantage of this avalanche of identical articles is that people are now talking about permanent style.

Permanent style is about investing in quality that will last – buying something that is actually cheaper per use, over its lifetime. Brogues, for example, that can be effectively remade every 10 years, resoled and relined for less than half the cost of the original. With the advantage of an upper that is moulded to your foot; with a patina that has been hand-painted by you through hundreds of polishes.

It is about knowledge of manufacturing processes and profit margins, so you know how to get value for money. Buying clothes that are rebranded, for example, by big chains that have the scale to offer bigger discounts in the sales.

It is about studying traditions, conventions and rules, so that your clothes are part of a cycle that goes around every 50 years, not every five. It is about knowing why those rules exist, so you can break them when their rationale no longer exists – like wearing white on a sunny winter’s day.

Permanent style is about longevity, taste and relishing the clothes you wear. To all those who, apparently, needed a recession to awake them to the virtues of this philosophy I say: welcome to the club. What took you so long?