Inspired by a post on the well-dressed economist, a reader queried Izzy as to whether he knew anything about the attire of the dapper TV business commentator Larry Kudlow. Ever happy to oblige, Izzy has it on good authority that Mr. Kudlow wears bespoke suits by Savile-Row trained Leonard Logsdail (whom Izzy has had the pleasure of meeting) and ties by Turnbull & Asser, Vineyard Vines, and Venazi. His contrast-collar shirts, ever beloved by financiers and capitalists, are also by T&A.
In his tweed jacket, button-down oxford, and lackluster tie, the man on the right might be a college professor or a small-town lawyer. But in fact he is Gerard Wertheimer, co-owner of Chanel and a billionaire. It has often been observed that—in contrast to the nouveaux riches, who are insecure about their social status—old money will go about in ancient togs, unembarrassed by holes or signs of wear. Though Wertheimer escapes being frumpy, there is something to be said for a fashion magnate who is immune to the seductions of glamour.
Dressing like a stout flightless marine bird is par for the course at the Oscars, but George Miller, the producer of Happy Feet, went delightfully all out by tucking a white silk scarf into his jacket.
The New York Times calls the “transgressive” designs from ambiguous Dutch duo Viktor & Rolf “radical” and “chic.” But something about the pair’s appearance makes Izzy expect them at any moment to suddenly stop everything and declare, “Now is the time on Sprockets vhen ve dance!”
It is Izzy’s imagination, or did Sean Lennon show up to New York Fashion Week looking like a disheveled ’80s banker who just emerged from hibernation?
One of Izzy’s favorite sections in his daily newspaper is the obituraries—as the saying goes, they’re the only news that stays news. While recently reading about the life of Gerard Oury, the director of some of France’s favorite comedy films, Izzy learned that after receiving a string of death threats, Oury
responded by carrying a pistol concealed in a Louis Vuitton bag.
Only a Frenchman could have made a Louis Vuitton bag très masculin.
Some of Izzy’s readers, and even the Manolo himself, have thrown down a bespoke gauntlet by denying that a goatee can improve the facial appearance of the portly. In his defense, Izzy asks you to consider the following pieces of evidence.
Although no one is ever going to confuse Michael Moore for Ghandi, can there be any doubt that he looks better with a goatee? Although the Manolo intended the photo on the right to serve as a warning to the chinless, Izzy, with all due respect, happens to think it is the best photo of the filmmaker he has ever seen. And, no, the improvement is not wholly due to his changing glasses and ditching the ballcap.
* Derives from the Middle French (se) rebarber meaning “to resist” and earlier “to face (the enemy)” (literally “to face beard-to-beard”).
Izzy finds something strangely evocative about the courtroom appearance of Richard Leigh, the novelist who just lost his plagiarism lawsuit against The Da Vinci Code’s Dan Brown. The combination of hitman jacket, trailer-park hair, and cowboy ‘stache and sideburns visually express world-weary defeat. (Note the continuity between the jacket collar and his cragged face.)
Who knew aviators could reflect such sadness?
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