Manolo says, there is the reason why many man-oriented bloggers consider Silvio Berlusconi the sort of role model.
“Ah! Bellisima! Look at you! You are so beautiful and tanned!
“Now, come to the embrace of Silvio!”
“Please, touch the hand of Silvio so that you may feel how warm he is in your presence….And now you are blushing like the little school girl. Silvio has won your heart, no?”
Any gentleman with whiskers, great bulk, and a taste for oysters should appreciate this vintage tie from Chipp, the long-gone prep habedasher. In Izzy’s fertile imagination, the walrus represents a Rubenesque version of Matisse’s Pink Nude.
In his memorable essay “The Secret Vice,” Tom Wolfe writes:
one day in December, 1960 . . . Lyndon Johnson, the salt of the good earth of Austin, Texas, turned up on Savile Row in London, England, and walked into the firm of Carr, Son & Woor. He said he wanted six suits, and the instructions he gave were: “I want to look like a British diplomat.” Lyndon Johnson! Like a British diplomat! You can look it up.
Note well: Never ask your tailor to make you look like a Libyan diplomat, or else you’ll get the shiniest suit known to man. Apparently, what happens in Vegas does not stay in Vegas, sartorially speaking.
But at least Libya’s National Security Advisor, Mutassim Qaddafi (son of Muammar Qaddafi), is carrying on the family tradition of eccentric flamboyance.
Pakistani designer Munib Nawaz shows his national pride by placing an outline of his homeland on the back of a tailcoat.
The only major brand Izzy can think of that puts a country’s map on its products is the British label Hackett, which every now and then stamps the outline of the United Kingdom across a shirt or and tie. Izzy himself has been known to don such a shirt—he likes to wear his anglophilia on his sleeve.
Sperry top-siders are an American classic, if a bit boring at this point. Thus, Izzy was delighted to discover this new J. Crew “chukka” top-sider. A hybrid of deck shoe and desert boot, it refreshingly combines change with continuity. And it looks mighty comfy, too.
Vineyard Vines, purveyor of all things ultra-preppie, is now offering a line of atypical college ties, featuring a silk-screen of the university’s symbol. Obviously, this works better for schools with especially pleasant insignia, such as the Columbia University crown and University of Texas longhorn. Izzy’s personal favorite is the necktie for the University of Virgnia’s Fighting Sabres, which possesses the visual dynamism of an art deco print.
Since there’s nothing preppier than corduroys embroidered with cutesy whales, ducks, or monkeys, the folks at Hickey seem to be targeting the elusive Groton-alumni-who-are-truckers demographic. Presumably the care label reads, “Requires no additional irony.”
They even make a matching cashmere sweater.
Among the ranks of these Viking re-enactors, one make-believe Norseman is not quite like the others. Too much herring, and not enough pillaging, has left him out of shape, while his askew helmet, with an extra wide nose-guard, adds to his loveable-misfit charm. Izzy can’t help but think that this is what Obelix would look like in Viking armor.
Hard economic times appear to have affected even Austin Powers, who must be the British eBay seller hoping to exchange these groovy, Cuban-heeled Chelsea boots for cash. If any of Izzy’s loyal readers are friends with the Riddler, please tell him to bid now.
By wearing a lapel pin that combines the U.S. flag and the letter “C,” Steven Colbert shrewdly blends mock patriotism with self-advertising. Yet, by donning a button-down collar with a tuxedo, he really goes beyond the bounds of taste.
While parading during Venezuela’s Independence Day, this army cadet looked down to discover that it his crotch was celebrating its newfound freedom. It’s a good thing the soldier wasn’t going commando.
Izzy recently popped into H. Herzfeld, possibly New York’s last true habedasher. Inside the cozy store, which has been in business since 1890, it is easy to imagine one is on Jermyn Street in London, not E. 57th Street in Manhattan. It probably the only place in New York city that sells shirts by Hilditch & Key and Harvie & Hudson, among with many other rarities in America, such as sock garters. Browsing toward the back of the shop, Izzy felt a pair of gloves from Dents, the leather of which was so surprisingly soft that it truly sent a shiver up his spine. The salesman said that the British glovemaker was the best in the world, which, Izzy had to agree, was not a hyperbolic claim.
