Book Review: 100 Years of Menswear

A few weeks ago, the kind folks at Laurence King Publishing sent me a copy of one of their new books, 100 Years of Menswear, by Cally Blackman, with the request that I review it here. Since  books are my favorite kind of blog-related free swag to pick up, I of course said yes. Forgive me if I'm a little late to the party with this one. I realize that reviews of this book have been popping up all over in the last few weeks. 

I think this is a fun book. Mostly, it's a photo book with very little text at the front end of each section. That's fine with me, given that it doesn't seem to be intended as a definitive tome on the social ramifications of menswear, but rather a compendium of photos spanning a little of everything men have worn in the last 100 years.What strikes me most about it is the diversity of styles the author sees fit to include. If you're looking for (yet another) sycophantic pin-up book about the long lost splendor of the 1930s, this book isn't for you. If however you realize that the sharp elegance of the magic old days is but one piece in a much vaster puzzle, than you may find something to like here.

Of course, we have the requisite illustrations of the 1930s which the menswear blogs have deemed we are now required to drool over...

and late nineteenth century photos and illustrations of men in morning dress, or playing tennis in white flannel suits, or hunting in tweed three piece suits with plus fours. Like so many other menswear bloggers, I love that stuff, but as someone who also has a checkered past in rock n roll, I realize that these things are far from the full story, and so apparently does Ms. Blackman. She managed to amass in a relatively small book lots of great examples of artistic sub-cultural clothing, every bit as much "menswear" as a top hat and tails.

We have original 1960s Jamaican rude boys, in sharkskin suits, skinny ties, and baggy military surplus coats.

Crazy space aged stuff from the 1970s.

And every form of music related dress code, including androgynous glam, zoot suits, and punk rockers like the ones pictured here.

So much of what we read these days on the topic of such an ambiguous term as "menswear" tends to be rather narrow minded. We like to hone in on our own particular point of interest while failing to even acknowledge that anything else existed. We get hung up on particular moments in the past, and paint them romantically to suit our own ideal of it. We create rigid sets of rules which may or may not have actually existed. This book isn't called "A Guide to Ivy League Fashion", or "Best of Laurence Fellows", because those things are not the whole story in menswear, and as such this book attempts to cover it all. You may not like everything you see in this book, and you don't have to. Personally, I find there to be as many things that I find silly as there are things that inspire me here. But that's the point. Men have worn everything in this book at one time or another. Hippies, punks, businessmen, soldiers, coal miners, artists, and athletes all wore something we can call "meswear".  Knowing the full history of any given topic is always more useful than a rose colored and edited version, and Ms. Blackman has given us a concise set of thumbnails that embraces the full story. I like that.

Priorities

Richie's Super Premium Italian Ice of Everett, Massachusetts. Used to be called Richie's Slush (which we all still call it). A local Summer classic.

Richie's All Natural Italian Ice, the "organic" equivalent. Never had it, ain't interested.

As you know, I am a native son of the Greater Boston area. In fact, I am what the old locals might call a Townie. You may read me in my written voice, but you ought to hear my accent. There's no mistaking it. I've been eating what used to be known as Richie's Slush every Summer my whole life. Lemon is the only flavor for me, because, ya' know, I'm a traditionalist. Townie kids, like my own, tend to prefer watermelon (pink) or the blue varieties (vanilla or raspberry). Every convenience store in Eastern Massachusetts has a freezer chest full of this stuff, especially those located near playgrounds or Little League ballparks.

The following took place last Summer.

In recent years, my home town has seen a fairly dramatic shift in the sort of people who live there. The old timers may bemoan the fact that, as they see it, "the yuppies are taking over", though few of them have a problem with the rising value of their old family homes. I, for one, am happy to see the old town doing ever better, but I will admit that the yuppie/fake hippie/self righteous organic bullsh*t crowd can be more than a little pretentious and out of touch at times. Case in point:

I was at the local playground with my kids on a hot day. Just across the street is a little store that sells slush in the Summer time. It's pretty much a given that if we're going to that park there will be a round of slush afterwards, barring situations of extreme bad behavior, in which case t he suspension of slush privileges is a punishment. I was involved deeply in sand box play with my children. I couldn't help but overhear the conversation of some particularly annoying and self righteous neo-hippie trust fund parents bemoaning the fact that the local shop won't carry the organic slush. They would never let there kids eat the regular slush...and it's so hard, because all the other kids get to have slush...but I won't let my kids eat that junk....(hint:because I'm better than the other parents).

I could feel the fury rising within me as I thought to myself how pointless it is, perhaps even needlessly cruel, to deny a child an occasional treat of brightly colored frozen junk food on a hot Summer afternoon. I want as much as anyone for my kids to eat healthy foods, but Jesus, it's July. And I couldn't help but feel that this conversation was being had loudly over on the benches so that the Townie parents, who were all in the sand box actively playing with their kids, couldn't help but overhear.

I was about ready to blow my stack when an older woman came into the park with a young boy, about four years old. She approached the yuppie group and asked "is he one of your kids?" "yes, he's my son" said the lead obnoxious dad, "who are you?"

"I found him up the street wandering alone", said the older woman. The boy had wandered out of the park a block away to the store that sells the slush. No one had noticed, but at least he wasn't being fed that awful regular slush.

If you have kids, play with them. Or at least look after them at the playground. If you live near Boston, treat them to a slush now and then.

Priorities are still important.

The Jams (poor Jack)

I've always felt sympathy for Jack Bruce. Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker be damned, he was always the best part of Cream.

I mean, after all, besides the excessive cool points he gets for playing a Gibson EB3  bass in the first place, and with his fingers at that, he sang all the damn songs(at least all the best ones).

p.s. even better

A Fusion of Opposites

I recently got caught up watching a lot of old episodes of Firing Line with William F. Buckley over at that gargantuan time-suck known as Youtube. Good stuff, even if you don't agree with Buckley, which I generally don't. In any case, this choice bit featuring Allen Ginsberg in 1968 has me thinking a lot about the mens fashion/blog climate of the last few years, specifically the fact that nearly everything we've collectively been prattling on about is encapusalted in distilled form in these two very opposite men:

On the one hand, William F. Buckley is the very picture of this beast we now refer to as Trad/WASP/Preppy style. Only in his case it's not a "style", because it was 1968 and he actually was a patrician conservative figure. Sack suit, button down oxford, narrow gingham check tie, double soled shoes. All of it crumpled, worn, and slouchy while being perfectly "correct".

On the other hand, Ginsberg, whom Buckley refers to in his introduction as "the hippie's hippie, the Bohemian prototype", presents us with the Well-Curated-Authentic-Heritage-Americana-Urban-Lumberjack-Hipster-Band-Guy prototype. Jeans, no doubt USA made Levi's or some such, probably "selvedge", suede dessert boots, shirt, tie and tweed jacket topped with huge beard and even the requisite heavy rimmed glasses.

What's funny is the fact that as we view the screen, Buckley is on the left and Ginsberg is on the right. (Get it?)

It's not so surprising that we haven't really managed to come up with anything new since 1968. Immutability is one of the hallmarks of most menswear. What is interesting is the fact that fashion has become a fusion of opposites, borrowing heavily from two distinct styles that meant very different things to very different people in their time.

In some way I suppose people are a bit like that these days too, more grey and less black and white. Clothing aside, watching this video I find that I actually like and agree with both men, though they don't like or agree with each other at all. That's the future for you I guess.

p.s. new stuff in the Shop today, more over the next few. I know it's a bit shameless when I end my posts with these little plugs, but business is business you know. Please browse and thank you for your custom.

13 Dec., 7:48 am, Correction: Not "dessert boots", rather "desert boots". Oops.