There is a very select group of men who have mastered the endangered art of looking like the one who is really running things. It’s not about being splashy or flashy. Rather, it’s about taking a more subdued, but albeit well-tailored road. It’s like the quiet crime boss who outlasts his gaudy counterparts who can’t resist drawing too much attention to themselves. The operative words here are understatement and restraint.
Every five minutes, it seems there’s another men’s skin product that professes to be better than the one that came out five minutes before, promising to solve a problem that has already been solved by several products that came before it (but with way cooler packaging, of course). And every twenty minutes, I get an email from a PR person wanting me to write about one of these revolutionary new products that’s going to change shaving and skincare as we know it. It’s a saturated market that can be confusing to even the most educated consumer.
Two of the most common questions men ask me pertain to suits: 1.) If I only need one suit, what should I get? and 2.) What should my first suit be? The answer to both is the same. Whether just starting out or starting over, a man should begin with the solid navy suit.
Whether we’re willing to admit it or not, we make assessments when we look one another over. Other than the obvious signals to financial status and, of course, taste, the choices a man makes about what he puts on himself offer clues to his character.
One of those clues – something that impresses me about a man – is his shoes. It’s not about an expensive pair of shoes. I’m actually rather unimpressed with obvious displays of prestige or the perception thereof. What does impress me is when a man selects tastefully and takes care of those selections. A brilliant shine and a well-tended heel say something. Dull shoes with worn heels say something else.
Razors, bow ties and good tailors apparently took a vacation last week, attracting what looked like a small convention of scruffy, well-pressed Tarantino gangsters and pallbearers at this year’s Golden Globes. After enchanting Matt Lauer and then taking Amtrak to Washington, D.C., the Brooklyn hipster caught the red eye to LAX and invaded Hollywood. I just hope the Beverly Hilton Hotel stocked enough craft beer to go with those beards, bro.
A reader asks…
One struggle I have (and an extreme annoyance) is wrinkles I get in my trousers from sitting at my desk or in my car for a period of time. Is there anything that can be done to help this, whether with tailoring or type of wool? Thanks. Tim.
For a long time, I had a theory that the shrunken suit thing was a joke—that Thom Browne had started a movement the same way that L. Ron Hubbard allegedly started Scientology: on a bet to see how many followers he could collect. History tells us that really radical ideas have the power to stick. Coming out of the 1990s, suits had such excess shoulder padding, wide lapels, and excess room in the leg that one could almost cut two Thom Browne suits with all that fabric. The shrunken suit was such a radically different statement that it was almost a hyper-rebellious “fuck you” to suiting as we knew it in the decade prior.
Because his music remains among the most popular on the planet. Because he helped desegregate Nevada casinos and hotels in the 1960s. Because he likely influenced a presidential election. Because he was one of the first artists to start his own record label (Reprise). Because he could actually act, winning an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in From Here To Eternity in 1953. Because he refused to retire and stayed relevant, even after he officially retired. Because he started the “Duets” album format. Because he offered to “take care of” Woody for Mia. Because he actually had the connections to have Woody taken care of. Because the Empire State Building glowed blue for his 80th birthday. Because he’s the original pop star with a bad attitude. Because he accomplished all of this while maintaing a high standard of style. Because he’s the Chairman of the Fucking Board.
The Ludlow shoes incorporate that English heritage of construction with a nice leather upper, a hefty leather sole with a steel shank and a Goodyear welt. The Ludlow line comes as a plain toe blucher or a long wingtip brogue. Though the shoes aren’t fully made in the U.S.A., many of their components, like the insole, outsole, lining and welt, are harvested on American soil.
There is a scene in American Gigolo in which Julian (Richard Gere) takes a little taste of cocaine from his nightstand and turns to his closet and dresser drawers to pick out his clothes. With “The Love I Saw in You Is Just a Mirage” by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles playing on his stereo, he lays out jackets, shirts and ties in various combinations as he carefully considers the evening’s ensemble. It’s immediately obvious that he performs this ritual every time he gets ready to go out. It’s glorious.
American Gigolo is the first movie I can remember that depicted a masculine and reasonably sophisticated male character actively taking care and pride in choosing and wearing his clothes. Maybe the only movie. Written and directed by Paul Schrader and also starring Lauren Hutton, this 1980 noir-ish crime drama is about a successful Los Angeles male escort to older women (Gere) who gets pinned as the prime suspect in the murder of a wealthy client in Palm Springs. His liaisons have entangled him at the crossroads of the dark underworld and those who wield political and financial power, and he gets in over his head. In a role originally offered to (and turned down by) John Travolta, Gere turned his performance as Julian into a defining career move.