You Know That Suit
Doesn't Go With That Stupidity
Troughout the 80s and 90s, one of my pet peeves was the media’s use of the word stylish to describe Mafia kingpin John Gotti. True, the Dapper Don, as they called him, did have a penchant for expensive suits (actually cheap when considering the Mafia kingpin cost-of-living index) but as we know from all those loudmouth-inherits-an-estate pictures Hollywood churns out, wealth - whether earned, ill-gotten, or inherited - doesn’t automatically bestow one with class or make one stylish - it only makes one a loudmouth (or crook) in an expensive suit. Attitude, deportment, and soul are the primary factors of style, not material and cut, and though everyone knows beauty is but skin deep, there’s one venomously tongued creature that continues to obfuscate his inner being from the public, and it's all done by the simple use of a pocket square. That creature is...
The Sartorial Snob
As evidenced by the increase of websites solely dedicated to the subject, there has been over the last decade a rising interest in matters sartorial. All one has to do is Google the word to find a host of fora with members squabbling over such topics as shoulder construction, lapel width, and, as we wrote about here at The Cad, button configuration, and from these fora there is much information to be gleaned and twice as much to be discarded. I, myself, am leery of anyone who passes along that old chestnut of ‘socks should match trousers or shoes’ (luckily, no one told this to Fred Astaire) but what has begun to disturb me more than this inveterate passing along of bad information is the chastisement and belittlement of neophytes who only seek guidance. ‘Does a red tie go with a blue suit,’ a young man may ask, and he is summarily pounced upon by supposed adults who ought to know better. They make him feel the fool. They make themselves feel good. Among some sartorial groups this dismissive and insulting attitude is all too prevalent and instead of offering helpful advice on color combination or trouser length, a collective sneer is usually cast toward any man who prematurely applies for comment. ‘Go away and come back when you’re properly dressed,’ the group says. ‘The suit has to be Savile Row; the necktie needs the correct number of stripes.’ Here at The Cad, we cringe at such boorish behavior.
A recurring line in Terry Gilliam’s 1985 masterpiece Brazil is 'We're all in it together', and I feel the same about getting dressed to go out. There are so few of us, men and women, who are making any sort of effort to look their best for a night on the town - to return some flash and style to this lackadaisical world of our time - that we shouldn’t be admonishing or snickering at anyone who still appears to be working out the kinks of his wardrobe. It’s too easy for the neophyte to give up under such circumstance. It’s too easy for him to say ‘I guess I got it all wrong,’ and return to his cargo shorts and flip-flops. The neophyte is uncomfortable. He’s undertaken a second act, and, quite often, it’s without supporting players. His friends have begun to comment about his new appearance, claiming he’s putting on airs. Passersby have begun to take quizzical notice, and at every event he attends, he wonders if he’s overdressed. For the married man, the challenge is even more difficult. Magazine articles routinely state that if a married man suddenly takes interest in his wardrobe, it means there’s a paramour in the wings, and the the wife, placing her trust more in pop psychology than the husband’s vows, begins to give him grief. Chastised by the missus and belittled by the experts, the gentleman, shot from both sides, gives up the foolish pursuit of looking his best, and he too returns to his former rigout.
Now, to preclude the firing of angry missives by the sartorial experts, I will admit that fawning is just as bad as sneering. Telling a neophyte he looks great when he doesn’t leaves him to learn for himself - a time-consuming and costly process that could have been avoided by the offer of an expert’s constructive criticism. Yes, helpful suggestions should be made when sleeves are too long and a shirt billows about the waist, because, ultimately, the neophyte will begin to notice these details for himself and wonder why no one ever told him about proper fit. ‘You should perhaps think about…’ is a phrase I like to use in such circumstance, and only when I’m asked for my honest opinion.
Fairly evident from this letter is my disdain for exclusivity, and I have even more of it for those who use style as its foundation. Being well-dressed does not make anyone better than the neophyte or ‘the crowd’, and while I do believe there’s a proper time and place for every sort of wardrobe, I know better than to let my sartorial preferences imbue me with a feeling of superiority and entitlement. Remember, true style is owning a room without demanding to own it. Gotti went to his grave without that realization; fortunately, it’s not too late for you.
Kind regards,
Jack Newcastle
Publisher, Editor-in-Chief
The Cad
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