I was rather inspired this past weekend when that old gang of mine got together at The Architect’s townhouse (aka “The Club“) for a casual supper. The Architect and Corporate Creature were both in attendance and wearing blue jeans that were a bit frayed at the heels.

Although I am not a fan, the way [...]]]> to denim.

I was rather inspired this past weekend when that old gang of mine got together at The Architect’s townhouse (aka “The Club“) for a casual supper. The Architect and Corporate Creature were both in attendance and wearing blue jeans that were a bit frayed at the heels.

Although I am not a fan, the way that they chose to dress up the dress down denim gave me reason to consider purchasing a pair. That’s the Architect’s Paul Stuart jacket and shirt in the photo above. Purple tweed! Playful, yet serious fabric! Likewise, Corp. Creature was wearing a houndstooth sport coat and cashmere crew neck over a button down collar. His shoes were chukkas in burnished chestnut leather.

Denim, it seems, has a natural ability to partner well with other hardy and luxurious materials, cashmere, tweed, suede, crocodile, and leather. The mixture of high and low plays together nicely. The morning after the night before I was awakened far too early by my son and decided to dig out the pair of jeans that lies among my gardening cords and frayed khakis. They don’t fit, but I had Mrs. E. snap a photo of me after playing a game of catch with our son in the library. Think of it as a wardrobe test, if anything.

Black, 2-ply cashmere v-neck sweater, poplin button down shirt, jeans, houndstooth socks and Belgian loafers. I doubt I’ll make it a habit, but with a little tweaking, it might work for a very casual outing, visiting the farmer’s market say. With tweaking and a Harris Tweed sport coat that is.

I used to think that I couldn’t really wear a fedora. I was wrong. It was simply a question of finding one with the right width brim and height to the crown. I got lucky with this Stetson and didn’t have to go bespoke. (I’m saving that for a Lord’s hat, stay tuned.) So, hat [...]]]>

I used to think that I couldn’t really wear a fedora. I was wrong. It was simply a question of finding one with the right width brim and height to the crown. I got lucky with this Stetson and didn’t have to go bespoke. (I’m saving that for a Lord’s hat, stay tuned.) So, hat in hand, or rakishly tilted on the head, I now turn to the burning question of wearing hats with other articles of outerwear.

Do you wear caps? Not baseball caps, but the proper tweed sort like the one on the fellow speaking with Mr. Gabin here (himself in a splendid Homburg.)

Call me crazy, but I find that I wear my cap only with shorter jackets, like my Barbour or a leather jacket, tweedy outwear like a steamer coat or with a Harris Tweed sportcoat. Somehow it makes sense to me as the cap is sporty, casual and rugged. It is a fine cap for driving as the flat crown doesn’t brush up against the headliner in the car. My Basque boina and French beret work the same way (although I’ve worn both with my polo coat.)

But my fedoras and trilbys I leave for more serious topcoats, trench coats and suits (including my dinner jacket) although there is no rule about wearing them with sportcoats and odd trousers. The trick is to find a hat that suits your face and follows the same lines as your lapels and collar. Stingy brims seem to go nicely with the narrower lapel; at least in my opinion.

You’ll know your hat when you find it. It’ll look good on you. To find your size take a tape measure and measure around your head, about one inch above your ears. Try not to tilt the tape forward or back or cock it one side. Even if you wear your hat that way.

What about you? Do you have any hard and fast rules about the clothing with which you wear your hat?

Forgive the photo, I was running out the door and didn’t notice that my tie was askew. Sprezaturra? No. Completely unplanned. As was the imperious expression that was captured just as the battery died in the camera and shut down the shoot.

The odd Harris Tweed jacket was given to me by my Uncle [...]]]> For some tweed…

Forgive the photo, I was running out the door and didn’t notice that my tie was askew. Sprezaturra? No. Completely unplanned. As was the imperious expression that was captured just as the battery died in the camera and shut down the shoot.

The odd Harris Tweed jacket was given to me by my Uncle when I was in the upper school at SSS sometime around 1983. Replete with throat latch, it is made for blustery, chilly days, of which we have had quite a run lately. Interestingly, it is quarter lined. Making it a bit less warm than 16 ounce (?) tweed should be. And that’s where the odd vest comes into play. It’s a cashmere thing that is cut a shade too long, but would work well with today’s lower rise trousers. Since I had the flannels made, they are sitting at my proper waist and the whole is a bit off. But close enough for government work, as they say.

The funny thing about stalking about in tweed is that I am not exactly the country squire type. But tweed, and especially old tweed, feels great. It feels like it can take it and push back if need be. I wish I had a three piece suit of the stuff. Preferably some outlandishly brown and orange hairy wonder. (No camouflage here in what I call a city, however you might think of Richmond, I suppose I would be accused of putting the “twee” back in tweed.) Indestructible, like an ancient leather jacket, or cordovan double sole brogues (see photo above), tweed becomes an old friend, a stylish companion to jeans (or over a jean jacket as photos of my teenage years will attest), khakis, corduroys, moleskins, flannels and cavalry twills. Dress it up. Dress it down. Wrap it around a cashmere sweater to protect that delicate fabric and waterproof it with a waxed cotton Barbour and you’re set for adventure.

Maybe my affection for tweed stems from its being made by hand. Harris Tweed, stamped and certified, has to be produced using whatever wool, moisture, twigs and berries can be gathered in something like a twenty foot diameter on one of those isolated rocks of an island in the Outer Hebrides. There is a real art here.

And as Oscar Wilde famously said, one should either wear a work of art or be one. Many may call me a “piece of work”, but few a work of art.

Which is why I wear tweed.