More about men’s clothing, men style, trend and brands.
In his memorable essay “The Secret Vice,” Tom Wolfe writes:
one day in December, 1960 . . . Lyndon Johnson, the salt of the good earth of Austin, Texas, turned up on Savile Row in London, England, and walked into the firm of Carr, Son & Woor. He said he wanted six suits, and the instructions he gave were: “I want to look like a British diplomat.” Lyndon Johnson! Like a British diplomat! You can look it up.
Pakistani designer Munib Nawaz shows his national pride by placing an outline of his homeland on the back of a tailcoat.
The only major brand Izzy can think of that puts a country’s map on its products is the British label Hackett, which every now and then stamps the outline of the United Kingdom across a shirt or and tie. Izzy himself has been known to don such a shirt—he likes to wear his anglophilia on his sleeve.
Among the ranks of these Viking re-enactors, one make-believe Norseman is not quite like the others. Too much herring, and not enough pillaging, has left him out of shape, while his askew helmet, with an extra wide nose-guard, adds to his loveable-misfit charm. Izzy can’t help but think that this is what Obelix would look like in Viking armor.
Since there’s nothing preppier than corduroys embroidered with cutesy whales, ducks, or monkeys, the folks at Hickey seem to be targeting the elusive Groton-alumni-who-are-truckers demographic. Presumably the care label reads, “Requires no additional irony.”
They even make a matching cashmere sweater.
Sami Kutanaga and her assistant, Tiara Calvert, are proud to share with you their newest graduates in a presentation of LionSkins, Icing, LeeZu, and Pacific Heights Mall clothing. Join us at 9am this Saturday on the Cloudwalk Runway at Fashionista.
Topics:Events, From the Runway, Full Outfits, Gowns, Men’s Wear, Models & Modeling, Skins |
Izzy somehow missed it, but a few weeks ago The New York Times reported that the economic downturn has led to a true casual-ty: 21, the famed Manhattan restaurant, is no longer requiring that male diners wear ties, as it had for the prior 79 years:
The power-dining oasis, where Manhattan’s surviving masters of the universe daily attempt critical mass, announced last Thursday that the restaurant, virtually the last in town with a neckwear rule, had abandoned its tie requirement at dinner in its two dining rooms, the Bar Room and Upstairs at 21.
The new president has, it would seem, brought a new sartorial informality to the White House:
The capital flew into a bit of a tizzy when, on his first full day in the White House, President Obama was photographed in the Oval Office without his suit jacket. There was, however, a logical explanation: Mr. Obama, who hates the cold, had cranked up the thermostat.
“He’s from Hawaii, O.K.?” said Mr. Obama’s senior adviser, David Axelrod, who occupies the small but strategically located office next door to his boss. “He likes it warm. You could grow orchids in there.”
Now sporting a full beard, darker than his blond locks, Britian’s Prince William is looking excedeedingly kingly—and it also happens to emphasize his eyes (royal blue?). But will he continue the bold style when he takes the crown? As far as Izzy can tell, the last leonine King of Britain was George V, who ruled from 1910 to 1936.
While parading during Venezuela’s Independence Day, this army cadet looked down to discover that it his crotch was celebrating its newfound freedom. It’s a good thing the soldier wasn’t going commando.
Izzy recently popped into H. Herzfeld, possibly New York’s last true habedasher. Inside the cozy store, which has been in business since 1890, it is easy to imagine one is on Jermyn Street in London, not E. 57th Street in Manhattan. It probably the only place in New York city that sells shirts by Hilditch & Key and Harvie & Hudson, among with many other rarities in America, such as sock garters. Browsing toward the back of the shop, Izzy felt a pair of gloves from Dents, the leather of which was so surprisingly soft that it truly sent a shiver up his spine. The salesman said that the British glovemaker was the best in the world, which, Izzy had to agree, was not a hyperbolic claim.
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