Elegance Guide To Quality Menswear [Paperback]

Imagine then my surprise when -- upon returning to my list -- I found it had fallen to three stars. This is the result of a single biased review by one Mr. George Brinton Murray. Although a self-described "furnishings and alterations specialist," Murray castigates 'Elegance' for its emphasis on what he calls the "basics." To which I respond: simplicity is its great merit. This sparsely illustrated book (nary a photograph) contains chapters with titles like: Blazers, Buying a Suit, Cashmere, Khaki, Packing, Savile Row, and The Trench Coat. Nearly all give the definitive scoop on their subject - the one exception being "Italian Fashion." Of course, this single exception nicely proves the rule. That country's fashion 'industry' changes so frequently that no single snap-shot will ever proof definitive. To which I say, so much the worse for Italian "fashion".

It is really a shame that 'Elegance' is now out of print. The book is due for an updated reprint. By contrast, most of the recent books on the subject of men's clothing are merely cheap public relations tools. Their authors intend to sway their readers towards certain fads or brand names. The crisp, WASPy prose of G. Bruce Boyer stands far apart from the field. He possesses a smart sense of history. Where else, for example, will you learn that Khaki's originated in 1846 when British-led Peshawar soldiers took it upon themselves to douse their dangerously white uniforms in tea? Or that cowboy boots were the resulting hybrid of the boots worn by Civil War cavalry officers and those worn by the Spanish vaqueros "who herded cattle on the plains north of the Rio Grande."

Boyer further displays a cultivated sense of literary and cinematic allusions. The chapter entitled 'Polyester' contains a spiny satirical poem by John Updike. Nor does he forget Mary McCarthy's famous short story in his discussion of Brooks Brothers. As a fashion editor of Town & Country, we might expect him to possess a well-developed sense of pleasure. Thankfully, Boyer's is of a manly, every-day kind. "[T]he classic polo coat has always been considered the best-looking topcoat a man can wear. Perhaps the associations one makes in part account for its allure: Saturday afternoon football games in crisp Autumn air, tailgate picnics, early spring boat races."

Even when he is encouraging his more inspired readers to wear ascots (a bad idea, thinks this reviewer), he makes the practice seem more adventurous then ridiculous: "Especially in this day and age when casual dressing is so much a part - perhaps the largest part - of our lives, is there any reason why it should degenerate into ragged denims, sweat shirts, and jogging shoes? Just as there are levels of speech, there are levels of dress. And correctness in both would seem to depend on appropriateness: to the purpose, the audience, and the occasion. While a pair of cut-offs may be perfectly appropriate on a deserted beach (as nothing at all might be), they hardly seem the right thing for a cocktail party. But, to bring us full circle, neither do a tie and dress shirt. With a cashmere cardigan, tweed jacket, navy blazer, or summer sports coat, a scarf at the neck provides the right accoutrement."

Men's fashion is increasingly becoming a subject of interest to poofs only... and of sheer boredom to typical guys everywhere. Not to mention sheer hell to those of us who who work in the proletarian surroundings of today's business world. I work at the country's largest on-line banking firm where I daily observe sweat pants and tennis shoes at business meetings. Boyer gets it right on his first page - most average men today are "afraid of clothing." The cure for this anxiety takes one of three forms: a man either safely dons the conservative attire of the John T. Malloy school of business-ware; or, one takes no serious account of his clothing; or else one dresses like a flake. Per Boyer, "Those attempts at wardrobe whimsy rarely result in anything more than public spectacle anyway." Boyer's audience will be exactly those men who "aren't really clotheshorses and don't like to spend time worrying about how they look, which of course is the ideal."

Those men lucky enough to find a reliable tailor can afford to leave their wardrobe choices in the hands of another. Once, a man could expect his tailor to possess both business savvy and a sensitivity to acquired notions of taste. No longer. Simply go to your nearest Brooks Brothers and observe the variety of colors of men's shirts. Orange? Lavender? Et tu, Brooks?

Even in the better men's shops, today's haberdasher is all too often some zit-faced twenty-something whose jacket collar gapes and whose belt displays this week's buckle of whimsy. As for his tastes - who knows? The young Turk's favorite movie might just be the artistic travesty The Titanic, his idea of high culture the colorful Pharaohs of the Nile (as presented by National Geographic). He might just be the sort of person who glories in pompous titles like "furnishings and alterations specialist," rather than, say, tailor. And he might be the sort of reader who couldn't identify a good book if it was read to him by his mother while he admired its pretty - and let's hope glossy - pictures.

(For elaboration on the meaning of this last bit, see Mr. Murray's "about me" section).