Manolo for the Men

If plagiarism is a fashion crime, then the fashion detectives has better investigate this suspicious case.  Because really, is it likely that two different designers independently created shiny Mr. Peanut?

Bow, mortal, to Nipplelopochtli, Aztec god of pectorals and, uh, acid-washed jeans.

Behold this page from the 1975 J.C. Penny catalog, which deserves to be seen fully blown up to get the full effect.  While it’s easy to knock disco-pimp fashion, whether it’s the butch decolletage or the high-waisted polyester trousers with crotches cut too close to home, at least the clogs benefitted the shorter manimal (like the model on the right).  As bad as these outfits are, truly beyond the pale are those cuffed bell-bottoms, something Izzy had never seen even in his worst disco nightmare.  The only way this advertisement could have been any worse were if it had been scratch-and-sniff.

It’s hard to believe, but the above photo isn’t some colorized snapshot of one of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders, but was taken in the very unglamorous 1985. The subject is the recently deceased Gene Savoy, a flamboyant adventurer, archaeologist, and all-around throwback in the tradition of Indiana Jones.  He might never have discovered the Fountain of Youth, but he certainly knew where to find hard-wearing trousers with thick belt loops, western-front pockets, and an amazing drape.

First published in 1964, and long out of print, the ABC of Men’s Fashion has just been re-issued. Izzy can’t claim ever to have read the guide, but it was at least written by Hardy Amies, the conservative-minded British designer most famous for being dressmaker to the Queen. (The son of a civil servant, he was notorious for his in-your-face snobbery: “I can’t help it,” he once defended himself, “I’m immensely impressed by all genuine upper-class manifestations.”) Izzy thinks it a shame that the new, bland cover ditched the original’s head-turning gentleman in a mod suit—note his narrow trousers and the jacket’s high gorge (where the lapels meet). His hat’s proportions are unfortunate, but such were the times. Even James Bond had to suffer a high-crown, narrow-brim trilby in Dr. No.

The porcupine hat is all well and good—until you move in for a kiss.

The Manolo has noted outgoing Prime Minister Tony Blair’s revelation that

he had worn the same pair of shoes to his weekly question-and-answer session in parliament since he became the country’s leader.

The shoes in question — an 18-year-old pair of hand-made leather Brogues that have only been re-soled once — were made by Church’s in Northampton, central England.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I’ve worn them for every PMQs (Prime Minister’s Questions) … I’ve actually had them for 18 years,” Blair told The Times in an interview, adding that “cheap shoes are a false economy.”

As the wise adage has it: Women brag about their newest clothing purchase, men their oldest.

In constrast to Ralph Nader, who has worn the same pair of army boots for decades, Blair’s choice of footwear is beyond reproach, and certainly not evidence of an unhealthy asceticism (so common among self-proclaimed saviors). 

The Prime Minister has come along way sartorially since his Oxford days.

For the story behind this bowdlerized photograph, as well as the full original image, which is an incredible depiction of the aristocracy at play, go here.

Mr. Peanut gets competitive with silver Jordan almonds.

“Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?” were the most famous words spoken by the British actor Ian Richardson. Known in his homeland for playing the villain par excellence, he combined his sharp features with sharp conservative tailoring to become the very incarnation of a what the British call a toff.

Galliano unknowingly pays homage to Spaceball’s Dark Helmet, a parody of Star Wars’ Darth Vader (whose own helmet, incidentally, was surely inspired by German army helmets from World War II).

From what Washington Post movie reviewer Stephen Hunter writes, the Good Shepherd sounds like it will be a holiday treat for the clothes-minded:

[Matt Damon's character] is from one of those old families — you know, the ones who knew everybody, got the best jobs and knew which wine went with which course. Ever notice their lapels? They never bunched up when they sat down, like yours or mine did. They had drape, and that’s the giveaway right there….

As anthropology and archaeology, the film is first-class. If old WASP high Anglican haberdashery was the dullest, tweediest cavalcade of threads ever conceived, the movie certainly understands this. The suits fit beautifully and look like mud on asphalt, the shoes are both shiny and dull, nobody has the wit to wear a Burberry but only those sacklike London Fog single-breasted raincoats and the little ’50s small-brimmed hat, usually with the tail feather of a Bavarian woodcock in the band. Color? These guys never heard of it!

Izzy is not sure he could ever summon the gumption to wear a bowler hat without irony, but these gents prove its charms.