Testifying in front of Congress about the funding of the National Endowment for the Arts, Robert Redford costumed himself as an old-fashioned school teacher, complete with a tweed jacket with a narrow lapel and throat latch, as well as appropriately mussed hair. Izzy would have believed anything the man said.
Whichever of Barack Obama’s campaign staffers found those sleek black-and-white bowling shoes, the least objectionable pair possible, ought to get a raise, even the promise of a cabinet post. (Izzy notices that Obama is a lefty who wears his watch on his left arm, the political connotations of which are…?)
As a general rule, Izzy enjoys white or off-white suits (even those with black buttons), but the tailoring of this one being worn by REM’s Michael Stipe just seems a bit off. Is the jacket too long? Certainly the sleeves are. Izzy does, however, like the tie, with its width continuous all the way up. And there’s nothing amiss with Stipe’s lack of belt, which creates an especially clean look. Plus, why attract attention to your waist is there’s no need to?
In the most recent issue of The New Yorker, Michael Chabon, the superpowered novelist behind The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, has an excellent, thoughtful essay on superhero attire:
like the being who wears it, the superhero costume is, by definition, an impossible object. It cannot exist.
One may easily find suggestive evidence for this assertion at any large comic-book convention by studying the spectacle of the brave and bold convention attendees, those members of the general comics-fan public who show up in costume and go shpatziring around the ballrooms and exhibition halls dressed as Wolverine, say, or the Joker’s main squeeze, Harley Quinn. Without exception, even the most splendid of these getups is at best a disappointment. Every seam, every cobweb strand of duct-tape gum, every laddered fish-net stocking or visible ridge of underpants elastic—every stray mark, pulled thread, speck of dust—acts to spoil what is instantly revealed to have been, all along, an illusion.
William F. Buckley, Jr., widely considered to be the patron saint of American conservatives, has died (or, to put it more obscurely, is now communing with the eschaton). As befitted his politics, he never swayed in matters of appearance from the preppie style seen in this photo of him around the time of his college days at Yale. Ironically, that look—comprising a button-downed collar, narrow tie with a small knot, and three-button sack tweed jacket rolled to the second button (note the button hole on the lapel)—is now at the height of fashion, and is being copied by labels such as of Band of Outsiders (some of whose wares can be purchased here).
The one time Izzy was in close promixity to Buckley, your humble blogger noticed that Buckley’s tuxedo—which had survived innumerable galas, fundraisers, and rubber-chicken dinners—was so battered that it had a faded brown stripe on its shoulder, the result of years of wear from the leather strap from his briefcase. Surely there is nothing more trad than a dinner jacket that is no longer entirely black.
The Barack Obama campaign is blaming Hillary Clinton’s camp for leaking this photo of him to the public in order to reinforce paranoid, stupid fears that he is a crypto-Muslim. The picture was taken in August 2006 when Obama was visiting Wajir, a desert, largely Muslim area in northeast Kenya. The garb was presented to him by local elders, and the politician diplomatically tried it on. Although Izzy has written about the risks and rewards of going native sartorially (something the Manolo also noted about President Bush), surely Obama did the right thing in donning the sash and turban in the presence of his hosts. (And it should go without saying, but that headgear is worn not only by Muslims.) The real shame is that many politicians, wishing to avoid the possibility of such pictures being used to falsely smear them, will end up being rude when faced with similar opportunities abroad. And it’s not exactly if Americans overseas are known for their worldliness…
With his thick, nearly-octagonal eyeglasses, Obama-for-President button, and bowtie-less tuxedo shirt, Spike Lee had a lot going on at the Oscar’s, but thanks to that dashing white trilby, he proved himself one of the good guys.
I think pre-tied regular ties (four-in-hands) are now only found on uniformed security guards, doormen, and other rental outfits. They seem to have correctly assumed the social stigma of a teenager wearing velcro shoes because he hasn’t figured out how to tie shoe laces. Are you a child?
It is indeed sad state of affairs, then, when the same knot used for your shoelaces cannot be successfully duplicated on the necks of dozens of grown men at an event known for its clothing and televised for millions of viewers.
Dear John Travolta, I ask you. I ask your stylists. I ask the designer who probably gave you that tuxedo. How did you decide on a pre-tied bowtie? And how did you decide on the most awful, symetrical, perfect, bowtie the world has ever seen?
For comparison, last year Peter O’Toole, a proper old fart, most certainly got it right.
Possibly the most popular sunglasses frame of all time, the Ray-Ban Wayfarer has been worn by Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Cary Grant in North by Northwest, and, most famously, Tom Cruise in Risky Business—the latter the result of a shrewd product-placement deal.
First sold in 1952, the plastic model has been described by one commentator as being at first a “sculpture of genuine originality…a mid-century classic to rival Eames chairs and Cadillac tail fins. The distinctive trapezoidal frame spoke a non-verbal language that hinted at unstable dangerousness, but one nicely tempered by the sturdy arms which, according to the advertising, gave the frames a ‘masculine look.’”
To capitalize on the recent resurgence of the Wayfarer, Ray-Ban is now offering a limited-edition folding version that can fit in your pocket, as well as the glovebox of your Porsche.
Named after a British horse auctioneer from the 1700s, the tattersall pattern originated on horse blankets, something it is still used for. It has long been the classic design for flannel shirts meant to be worn with tweeds in the countryside, but Izzy has noticed that a few hip-hop stars, such as TI above, have been donning the conservative pattern, in the same way that many have been borrowing from preppy attire (note TI’s sherbert sweater). With all due respect to 50 Cent, perhap this style should be called “In da Country Club.”
Prepared to face the unpleasantries of his acrimonious divorce, Paul McCartney arrived in court in a suit whose narrow lapels harkened back to a far happier time when he was just a young Beatle. But by wearing a (disproportionately) wide tie with the youthful lapel, he shows himself to be stuck in the doldrums of middle age.
Like a colorblind Medusa, Clint Eastwood, in his blue shirt and black tuxedo, bruises the eyes of anyone who looks in his direction. Even worse, his “formal” wear includes a bent collar.
