Manolo for the Men

Courtesy of Thom Browne comes this freakish nightmare—of ironing, that is.

It’s not often that Izzy feels unworthy of a pair of pants, but these trousers from Bonobos are infinitely hipper than its new owner.  Made of shockingly lightweight corduroy, with wales the width of a needle, the soft pants are accented with pink contrast stitching and mod-ish linings that peek out from the rear pockets.   Your tush had better be prepared for all of the attention.

The Sartorialist today featured a certain Angelo Inglese, whose surname is too-good-to-be-true for those who enjoy British style all’italiana.  While his jacket sleeves and trousers might be too tight, his subtle combination of patterns should be an inspiration to us all.  Also, although his cardigan appears have been tucked in carelessly, it is more likely a messy example of sprezzatura.

Izzy has little doubt that clicking your heels in these ruby oxfords from Moschino will indeed take you somewhere over the rainbow.

A suit is good for nearly any occasion, though playing cricket, or any strenuous sport, is usually not one of them.  Still, Prince Charles didn’t look completely out of place taking a swing in a double-breasted suit with two-inch cuffs (a cuff size that is generally acceptable only with such a suit).  Izzy especially appreciates the understated tie, something that is all-too-rare in the U.S.

Taye Diggs deftly uses a cutaway collar and pocket square to spruce up what would have otherwise been a boring outfit.

Combining roller disco, Larry Bird, and set design from Star Wars, this 1982 ad for Chardon jeans has something for everyone, except those with sartorial taste. Izzy can’t deny that the music is pretty cool, though.

Note how briefly Bird flashes on screen. Despite being immensely popular at the time, the basketball great was unfortunately cursed with a face made for radio, and a voice made for telegraph.

Izzy has no objection in principle to scarlet-letter punishments, i.e., using clothing to publicly shame criminals, but this DUI chain-gang surely goes too far.  The combination of black, white, and bubblegum pink just screams 1980s, and those pants are straight from Zubaz.  More important, the entire outfit defeats the message on the convicts’ shirts: No sober man would dress that way.

As this shirt from Delusions of Grandeur demonstrates, once-archaic club collars are slowly making a comeback—though unlike in the early twentieth century, they’re typically being worn unstarched and unpinned.  Izzy recommends donning them with odd jackets or tweed or flannel suits.  Also, they should generally be paired with narrow ties (the one in the photo is too fat). 

No fuddy-duddy he, Izzy must admit that he actually kind of likes the racing stripes on the shirt’s cuffs.  The sloppily low-slung trousers, on the other hand…

Note, by the way, how the model’s cigarette is all that is needed to express a devil-may-care attitude.  We’ve come a long way from heroin chic.

Ain’t nothin’ like a blousey “sateen” shirt with narrow-waisted pleated trousers.  If this is how the Heartland of America dresses, Izzy is sticking to the Brainland.

As promised, Izzy attended the Corduroy Appreciation Club’s 11|11 meeting yesterday in Brooklyn, and is delighted to report that he had an excellent time. The secret rites lived up to their reputation, the corduroy-themed foods were crunchy, and the crowd was simply drop-dead cord-geous. (Apologies…) Izzy had never seen so much ridged fustian in one place in his entire life. These people take their silliness extremely seriously.

Izzy was surprised to discover that there was an open bar (which, he imagines, would serve anything but a velvet hammer—that textile is anathema to the Club, which derides it as the fabric of Leprechauns), thanks to the sponsorship of the naturally supple people at Cotton Inc. (”The Fabric of Our Lives,” etc.), though Izzy couldn’t help remembering that corduroy can in fact be made from wool or cashmere, however rare that may be. (Random aside: Izzy doesn’t want to encourage any conspiracy theories, but doesn’t Cotton’s logo eerily resemble a mushroom cloud?)

Never one do things by halves, every visible item Izzy wore, except for his socks, was corduroy: a brown medium-wale sportcoat, an indigo pin-wale shirt, blue and green medium-wale Converse All-Stars, and outrageously pink medium-wale trousers (pictured in the background above). Izzy thought that the latter would be the piece de resistance, but he was, alas, one-upped by a gentleman in an entirely pink corduroy suit. Izzy consoled himself considering that although that gentleman may have won the day (and also the best-dressed prize), his suit was made in Vietnam (where the labor is cheap, and so is the workmanship), whereas Izzy’s trousers were made with the utmost care in Italy, and hence should last a lifetime. Also, while Izzy may have appeared to be merely ridiculous, that gentleman looked like the Pink Panther.

Among the best parts of the evening was the hilarious, arch homage to corduroy delivered by Lord Whimsy, who excels at mock erudition. Izzy even had the pleasure of (briefly) meeting him, as well as with Duncan Quinn, a rock-star haberdasher who was by far the sharpest-dressed gentleman in the room.

But of all the highlights, Izzy’s favorite was when he received his membership card, which is comfortingly backed with brown corduroy. All in all, the event deserves a hearty “Zip, Zip, Hooray.”

Having drawn attention to the Corduory Appreciation Club once before, Izzy would like to notify his loyal readers of the society’s next get-together, which will be held in Brooklyn on 11|11 (for obvious reasons). Lord Whimsy, courageous dandy and author of The Affected Provincial’s Companion, Vol. I (which Izzy thoroughly recommends), will be the keynote speaker. Given that “adoxography” is a fancy word for elegant praise of the trivial (something which Izzy might know a thing or two about), the Club should be considered an organized exercise in adoxophilia. (Shockingly, Izzy could not find “adoxography” in the Oxford English Dictionary. He’s going to write an angry, erudite letter to Jesse Sheidlower, the immaculately dressed editor-at-large.)

In any case, only an unnatural disaster will keep Izzy from attending the event. Where else is he supposed to wear his corduroy shoes?