Cosmetic Surgery

As some of you may be aware, we in Boston are currently in the midst of some full blast Winter worthy of the Frozen North. I decided to spend a portion of the snowbound day (the part not spent consuming brandy, Guinness, and beef stew) performing a bit of cosmetic surgery on an old coat.

I've had this old Brooks Brothers duffle coat for a few years now. Originally picked up at a thrift shop (of course) for $12.99, it quickly became a favorite. I wear it a lot with jeans and sweaters, and over preppier jacket and tie combos involving tweeds, blazers, button down oxfords, cords, et cetera. The blanket lining keeps me warm, and the brownish shade of tan works well with anything. The only thing I never liked about it was the leather thong toggles and silly plastic "teeth", but I could live with it. But a real duffle coat ought to have rope and wood toggles.

Fortunately, replacement sets can be ordered from Gloverall, the English manufacturer of these coats, for less than $10. I ordered a set over a month ago, and it arrived in short order. In the package are eight pieces of jute rope and four wooden toggles.  I had hesitated about bringing the coat to the tailor to have the new toggles put on, mostly because I didn't want to be without the coat for a week or two in the middle of Winter. Then today we were snowed in, so I decided to have a go at it myself.

The fist thing to do is basically assemble the toggles. Each wood toggle is wrapped in jute rope which I then sewed tightly in place. The remaining four pieces of jute were sewn into loops. When doing this step, make sure to leave the loops wide enough to easily accommodate the wood toggles when fastening them.

Next, after carefully removing the old leather thongs with a seam ripper, I sewed on set on partially to insure that I had the placement correct. In order to keep things neat, I made sure to stitch through the ghost of the stitch marks left by the original thongs. Then I tacked down the other end and trimmed off the excess jute. Repeat with the rest of the toggles.I set the project aside a few times to do other things, but all told the entire process took little more than an hour.

In the end, I find the coat to be vastly improved. It's a small detail, but an important one. No doubt I've gotten my $12.99 worth out of this coat in the last four years, and with these new toggles it will last for many more to come. Sometimes the best new coat is your favorite old coat.

All in the Timing

For the last few years, I have been happy to attend a Robbie Burns Supper at a club in Boston at the invitation of a good friend. I've worn a suit of Black Watch, and tuxedo with a Royal Stewart blazer swapped in for the standard diner jacket. This year's supper was held last Friday, but I wasn't sure if I would attend. Then only last Wednesday, I found the above jacket, at a thrift shop of course, for a mere $7.99.

A dinner jacket in Dress Gordon, with broad silk faced shawl collar and silk edged pockets, likely 1940s vintage, in excellent shape, and exactly my size.

Rendered in old Viyella. Honestly, a tartan dinner jacket is one thing, but a Viyella dinner jacket?!?! Unheard of. Just in time I guess.

In the end, I didn't go to Burns Supper this year after all, opting instead to end a long day of hard work and ring in the weekend with a pizza dinner with the wife and kids. But Scots Wha Hae and all that nonetheless.

p.s. I have some great new listings on ebay, ending next Sunday, 1 Feb. Check it out.

Full Circle (Thrift Shopping Edition)

My newest old new tweed...

To begin, let me say that I have missed this place. I miss sharing my thoughts on matters sartorial and other  tangential subjects however loosely related, and I miss hearing from you, O Dear Readers. What I don't miss is feeling beholden to this blog, periphery commercial interests, or for that matter the Internet in general. So without further ado, let's get back into it, as the kids say, albeit on more casual terms.Back when I announced my self imposed indefinite hiatus, I figured I would come back one way or another, I just wasn't sure how, or when. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I made an eBay purchase that was such perfect AAW fodder that I couldn't resist.

Pictured above is a massive piece of thorn proof tweed from the Andover Shop. I saw this gem listed on eBay for a mere $15. The listing had terrible photos, and stressed the "as-is' nature of the potential purchase. Given the fact that thrift shopping is always something of a gamble, and given the extremely low ante on this item, I decided there was little to lose.

Back in 2010, I found a very similar jacket at a thrift shop (of course). It was an exciting find, a real rare treat, and I wore it as often as anyone can wear a super thick English country tweed indoors in the United States in the modern times.

But I decided to sell it. Maybe it was in a fit of closet cleansing...maybe it was because I felt (as usual) that I had more clothes than decency would allow one man...maybe it was in a moment of wanting "the money" more than the jacket...or maybe it was because my then new business selling fine vintage and second hand needed the credibility that something like this would give it. I don't really remember. What I do remember is the deep pang of instant regret I felt as I taped up the box and sent it out. 

So four years later, I found what appeared to be the same jacket on eBay, for wicked cheap. When the box arrived, I vaguely recognized the name on the return address. Not only was this the same jacket, it was actually the very same one I had sold before.  

Thornproof green tweed jacket with bold orange check, via the Andover Shop, via the Salvation Army, via An Affordable Wardrobe, via eBay. The circle is complete.

Cutting The Losses (An Appeal)

Back in July, I managed to "score" the suit in the above photo from ebay. It's a custom made suit by Alan Flusser, circa mid-90s. I wrote about it shortly after receiving it, using it to illustrate my "Law of Averages" theory as it applies to thrift shopping. It's made of a heavy nailhead cloth, and it's been hanging at the back of the closet in the "on deck circle", awaiting it's trip to the tailor. Every time I take it out to bring it to be fitted, it winds up getting bumped for other pending alterations. The longer I wait, the more I contemplate whether it might not be time to cut my losses on this one.

A three piece double breasted suit, seldom seen since the 1930s, is certainly not an easy garment to come by. Simply having one is something of a second hand/cheapskate gold medal. But when will I wear it? Lord knows I don't really need it. Hell, I don't really need any of this stuff. And the cost of alterations? OK, that's it, my mind is made up....

And then Tin Tin (remember him?) posts this photo, from a mid-90s era Esquire article written by none other than Alan Flusser himself. And I see such a suit in action, and I know now that I must have it...but wait a minute, no, I don't. Perhaps you see my dilemma. Or perhaps you are a more well adjusted, level headed person who is only reading this bog and others like it to marvel at the amount of time and thought that some fellows put into something so ultimately superficial and inconsequential. In any case, I appeal to you for help.

On September 19, 2008, the fellow formerly known as "Longwing" (remember him?) commented in response to this blog's very first post:

"Thrifters have too much shit. You get used to not getting exactly what you want so you tend to buy everything that even comes close."

I refuted him then, even though I couldn't help but admit that he indeed had a very valid point. It's a mild form of hoarding sickness that I have fought hard to keep in check all my life. I feel that I do fairly well, and no doubt operating a second hand clothing business does give me a convenient outlet for unwanted or no longer needed garments. But I ask you, is this not just the sort of situation old Longwing was talking about? Do I bite the bullet and pour more cash into making this suit fit? Or do I recoup my investment and get this thing into the hands of someone an inch or so taller than me? After all, I have a pair of cream colored flannel trousers already at the tailor's awaiting pick up, and a pair of cavalry twills to be dropped off, to say nothing of the dry cleaning.

Torture and anguish, thy name is a less than perfect ebay score. Thoughts and opinions greatly appreciated.

Get Ready

I heard that the Farmer's Almanac has predicted an unusually cold winter this year. Not that I neccesarily put much stock in the Farmer's Almanac, butI say bring it on. I've been preparing, and I'm ready. Are you?

Currently in the closet are some old friends and some recent off season acquisitions. Left to right: Vintage Southwick heavy wool twill in hunter green; vintage wool tartan jacket (great for Bobby Burns parties); Paul Stuart brown glen check with gold and burgundy overcheck; old custom cashmere large scale glen check with blue overcheck; Andover Shop Russell plaid heavy tweed; Brooks Brothers gun club check with open patch pockets; Andover Shop moss green tweed with orange, red, blue, and lavender check; Andover Shop brown tweed with burgundy overcheck; Norman Hilton brown color fleck herringbone; three piece cavalry twill suit. All acquired through thrift shops, ebay, or trade. 

Not bad for a broke cheapskate. Persistence pays off.

p.s. Looks like we have temps pushing 80 on the way this weekend. Good thing I kept the khakis and hopsack blazer in rotation.

Sunday Best

Recently good friend James of 10 Engines gave me this suit, straight out of his own closet, to do with what I could. It's the very definition of a stalwart classic, a charcoal grey single breasted suit in a three season worsted wool. It's been said that a man's suit is like armor, and this one bears that point out.

At first glance, it's a trad/ivy/preppy thrift shop/ebay score dream: a vintage 3/2 sack suit from the Brooks Brothers University Shop, likely late 1950s vintage. It's the kind of thing the trad/ivy fanatics dream of at night. But I won't be selling it. It's well worn, and in it's wear and tear lies a story and a soul.

The tips of the cuffs are worn through, and a few of the buttons are broken...

The trouser hems are frayed beyond repair, but check that old style big cuff on a narrow leg opening...

The edges of the trouser pockets have been beaten so hard in sixty or more years of active service that someone saw fit to have them reinforced with a grosgrain strip...

And a crotch worn straight through was at some time seen merely as a call for some old time thrifty repair rather than a ticket to the trash pile.

While this suits condition may render it useless to almost anyone, it has value in it's own way. Indeed, it's value lies in the very defects and repairs that make it an unsalable vintage piece. This suit speaks to a reality in the past that vintage fetishism tends to ignore, and it hints at a story that's worth bearing in mind, especially if you spend any amount of time hunting for and reusing old things.

In the strange world that is the online #menswear community, we tend to think of the Brooks Brothers of bygone days as something of a holy cathedral. It is viewed, along with a small handful of other old purveyors, as something of the supplier or royal armor to the knights of the #ocbd. And indeed, in most ways, it was. But there is another side to that story, and this suit is a strong piece of evidence.

What follows is all pure conjecture on my part, but I beg you hear me out. I think that the man who owned this suit didn't have a lot of good clothes, or a lot of money, but he did have values. He probably scrimped and saved in the late fifties to buy this suit, knowing that quality was worth the time and effort it took to earn it. He likely purchased this simple charcoal grey suit on virtue of it's versatility, usefulness, and probable longevity. It was probably his Sunday Best, and he probably wore it to every important occasion of his life for decades. He might have been eighteen when he bought it; he danced in it with his sweetheart at the Spring semi-formal; he wore it to his high school graduation; every holiday, every Sunday at church. He put it on for his grandmother's birthday that time they surprised her with a trip to the city for dinner in a fancy restaurant; he put it on to pick his wife up from the hospital after his son was born; he wore it to both of his parents funerals.

He wasn't a business man, definitely not a man who wore a suit all the time. Had he been that type, we wouldn't see either the wear or repair that we see on this suit. He appreciated the value in it since it's original purchase, and had it repaired as best he could every time it was needed by a little town tailor who was resourceful in his work. Despite the suit becoming increasingly ragged, he kept it clean and pressed, and every time he had occasion to wear it, that same sweetheart he danced with in the Spring semi-formal told him how handsome he looked in it.

Maybe that's all a bit maudlin, but I hope you see my point. In the romantic past, when everyone wore suits, even poor guys had to have some Sunday Best. In a very strong sense, I'd bet the guy who owned this suit valued it far more than any guy with a lot of suits values his clothes. It was his armor, his good clothes, and though it may have been a bit ragged, it wasn't any less of a grey Brooks Brother suit. Old clothes sourced from a thrift store are great for being well made quality things had for a fraction of their worth. But they also have a story and a soul. For some that's a turn-off, but for an inveterate cheapskate like myself, it's where the beauty in this lies.

Size Matters

As the author of this blog and a seller of second hand menswear, I am frequently asked questions regarding the measurement and sizing of old garments. In the age of the internet, more clothing than ever is bought and sold sight unseen via places like ebay and online shops like my own. In the interest of a "Reader Questions" style post, here's a guide and explanation of how sizing works and how to use measurements to successfully shop for old clothes.

Most modern clothes are sized on a tag. These measurements can be anything as vague as "alpha sizing" (S,M,L,XL) or as specific as tailored sizing (42 Reg., for example). While helpful, these sizes are best used as a guide rather than a rigid fact. In truth, there is fluidity in such sizes, and different manufacturers or brands often use the same numbers on clothes which are not physically the same size. Add to that the fact that many older and vintage clothes are either missing these tags or were never sized that way in the first place, and things can get pretty confusing. While it's helpful to know about what "size" you are, it is infinitely more helpful to know your measurements, or even just the measurements of an article of clothing that fits well. The numbers on a measuring tape are marked out in inches (or centimeters if you live anywhere but here), and there is no arguing with them.

Jackets
Most suit jackets and sport coats are sized by chest measurement and length. For example, I generally wear a 42 Regular. The number (42) refers to the circumference of the chest, in this case 42 inches, while "Regular" refers to the length of the jacket measured down the back. Generally speaking, there are five measurements to know on a tailored jacket. The chest can measured by laying a jacket flat and measuring from armpit to armpit, or "pit to pit" as you'll often read in online listing, then doubling. Bear in mind that is a differential to be considered, and few extra inches need to be left for freedom of movement. The jackets I have that I consider 42 chest measure between 22 and 23 inches across, or between 44-45 inches around. Shoulders are measured across the back from point to point. This can vary between makers and styles, but it can't be altered, so know what fits.A little variance is ok here. For example, I can wear anything from 18-19 inches in the shoulder. Length is usually listed as Short, Regular, and Long. While there is no hard rule about these lengths, I generally consider a "regular" to be about 31 inches from the bottom of the collar to the hem of the coat, short to be about 30, and long to be about 32. Again, the terms are subjective, but the numbers are not. Sleeve length is measured from shoulder to cuff, and sometimes a waist measurement will be given by measuring across the closed buttoning  point. These can be helpful, but remember too that sleeve length and side seams are easily altered. A good seller will list how much cloth there is to accommodate these alterations, or at least be able to tell you should you ask.

Trousers
Trousers are easier, with the most important measurement of course being at the waist. This is measured much the same way as the chest of a jacket, across the waistband, doubled, with room to move. For example, what I would consider a 36 waist would actually measure about 37 inches. Length is measured from the crotch to the hem down the seam. This is easily alterable in most cases and a good seller will tell how much extra cloth there is to make adjustments. If you're looking for trim or fuller cut trousers, it's helpful to know the leg opening and thigh measurement. A leg opening between 9 and 10 inches is fairly classic, with 8 inches being trim. 13-14 inches at the thigh is classic, less would be considered trim cut. If you like a trimmer look, trousers can often be tapered in a bit, but you'll need a good tailor, not just the local dry cleaner. Remember that honesty with oneself is important. You may like to say you wear a 34 waist when you really need 36. Vanity is a funny thing. It should motivate you to wear clothes that look good rather than squeeze into uncomfortable clothing that's too tight.

These things are not only helpful in the world of online shopping, but also in the physical realm. Take a measuring tape with you to the thrift store and ignore tagged sizing. If you see something you like, measure it and see how close it comes to the measurements taken from a well fitting garment you already have. With experience, you'll begin to see the relativity in tagged sizing. I personally own and wear trousers sized from 34 to 38 inches, and jackets ranging from 40 to 44 in tagged sizes, and yet they all fit. Know measurements, not your "sizes".

p.s. A Note on Blog Posts

You may have noticed that posting here has become less frequent, lately only happening once a week, usually on Saturday. As some of you may know, I have taken a writing job with the style blog at ehow.com. This job, paired with the running of both my online and brick and mortar shop, has made it difficult to keep posting here as frequently as I would like. Going forward, I will be working out a more regular posting schedule for the blog, likely twice a week. Until then keep checking in and bear with me. I truly appreciate your readership and will continue to offer the kind of content you've come to expect. Thank you.

The Virtues of Perseverance

Back in the 90s, my Dad had a subscription to GQ. This was in the end days of GQ being a publication for professional men interested in adult topics, rather than a pop rag full of twenty somethings in clothes that don't fit. I read it back then, and even though I may hate to admit being influenced by a magazine, I was. All those now famous Polo ads from the heyday were there, and the clothing photo spreads featured some pretty great stuff. Sure, the models were young, athletic, and handsome, but the clothes fit properly and it was obvious that the demographic was grown ups.

I'd see an outfit like the one pictured above. The model would probably be photographed descending a flight on stone steps on the front of an old official looking building, briefcase in one hand while checking his watch or hailing a cab. Or maybe he'd be in the park buying a hot dog from a street vendor while an attractive young lady in a business suit admired him from behind a newspaper. The caption would read something like this:

Dashing and simple, you can't go wrong with a good grey suit and blue striped shirt. Suit by Polo Ralph Lauren, $1295; shirt by Brooks Brothers, $149; tie by Robert Talbott, $125; belt by Coach; shoes by W.S.Foster and Sons.

I lusted after those things then, and I did my best in my teenage way to fake it with bargains and thrift shop purchases. In retrospect I missed the mark by a mile, but I was a kid and still just learning. I stuck with it, kept what was good and discarded the rest, in terms of both clothing and knowledge.  All these years later, I finally have the Polo suit, the Brooks Brothers shirt, and the Robert Talbott tie, albeit for a lot less money. I sometimes buy hot dogs from a street vendor, though I'm not sure how many attractive young ladies in business suits are admiring from behind a newspaper.

Perseverance is a virtue.

AAW on WGBH

Amanda Kersey of WGBH, Boston public radio/tv/news source, kindly visited the AAW Shop a couple of weeks ago. A few days later, she tagged along on a "hunting trip" with me, where I did a lot of pontificating from the drivers seat. The result is this nice piece at the WGBH website. Thanks, Amanda. It was fun working with you.

Perils of Thrifting : A Law of Averages

The " Law of Averages" we discussed in our last post does of course have a converse side to it. When you buy old things, you are of course buying things which have been worn previously. There will be no real way of knowing how much they were worn, and how well the previous owner, or in some cases owners, took care of his garments. Sometimes, a great find doesn't last too long once you have it. It's especially true of lighter materials like cotton and linen. I've had no end of great shirts bite the dust after I've worn and washed them only once or twice.

After wearing it only half a dozen times, the trousers to my recently acquired seersucker suit have reached the end. Torn wide open, down the seat and partway down one leg, they are now irreparably damaged. Remember what I said about the difficulty of finding old seersucker in good condition? Well, turns out that's very true.I suppose it's partly my fault for wearing it to work on a night when I had to bend and lift a number of cases of wine, but it's disappointing nonetheless.

But that's really all it is, a disappointment, and a relatively small one at that. Perhaps it's my years spent selling perishable goods at my other job, but I've learned to accept that there will be a certain amount of inevitable loss that needs to be factored in here. The trick is to try to keep that loss to a minimum. And as the law of averages states, even accounting for loss, alterations, and mishaps, I still come out very far ahead. Plus, there always an element of chance involved, which I suppose is sort of fun, I guess. Beats hell out of satisfying that fix with scratch tickets anyway.

p.s. make with the fat jokes all you like. This happened two weeks ago, and I already heard them all from those present at the time, and of course Mrs. G and the children.

Rules of Thirfting : A Law of Averages

Thrift shopping, and living cheaply most of the time, is something of a game without rules. There are so many vagaries to contend with, and so much chance involved that the only "rule" that's true all the time is that anything can happen at any time. After a while, you learn to see the big picture as something of a law of averages.

The suit pictured above is my own most recent acquisition. Very dressy, perhaps even a whiff out of character for me, but until now I had never seen a double breasted three piece suit in the flesh. It's like a unicorn, the stuff of legend, seen only in black and white movies. Rendered in heavy but soft nailhead flannel and replete with 1930s details, made custom for someone in the mid-90s in New York by Alan Flusser, at $100, I simply couldn't resist. 

The suit will need a bit of alterations, but there's no hurry since it's a winter cloth. The alterations it does need are a little unusual though. The trousers and vest fit perfectly, and the sleeves are just the right length, which is good as it has surgeon cuffs (working buttonholes). The odd thing is that despite the trouser waist being just right, the jacket waist needs to come in, and despite the inseam and sleeves being just right, the coat needs to be shortened by a half an inch or so. The waist is an easy, common alteration, but shortening the coat will take some work and cost some money. It's not an alteration that is always possible, as you run the risk of spoiling the coats proportions, but in this case, the buttons and pockets are set in such a way that half an inch will work. The coat has side vents which are cut deep enough to take the loss of length, and because the coat is double breasted, it has corners at the front rather than the curved edges found on a single breasted coat, making this task a little easier to accomplish.

So here's how this law of averages works. While $100 may be an incredible deal for a suit of this calibre, it is well more than what I usually pay for a second hand suit. The alterations will likely cost about $100 as well. By comparison as I write this I am wearing another thrifted suit that cost $40 and needed no alterations, and my favorite all purpose navy blazer was less than $10. You simply can't expect any kind of consistency in pricing any  more than you can expect to find a specific thing on a specific day. When taken as part of an average the cost of all my clothes, this suit is cheaper even in a sense than what I paid for it. Besides, thrift shop long enough and $200 all in becomes an expensive guilty splurge on a spectacular suit, when most other people are ready to spend as much on diffusion line "Chaps Ralph Lauren" suit, or something similarly lackluster, at a place like Kohl's. Besides, there's adventure and chance involved in thrift shopping, which for the professional cheapskate is more than half the fun. And the smarmy feeling of self satisfaction that comes with knowing that you got one over on that guy who bought his cheap suit at Kohl's is kind of priceless.

The Prodigal Son

I've written before about the perseverance involved in successful thrift shopping. Often, suits will be separated into their constituent parts and priced individually, but a pro-level thrift shopper (cheapskate) knows how to find the orphaned components and attempt to reunite them with their missing family. Not long ago, I brought together a three piece suit, from three different racks. Many other times I managed to put coat and trousers back together. Once, I completed a suit by finding the two pieces more than a week apart from one another. But the suit above marks a new level of thrift serendipity, even for a seasoned and perhaps even jaded cheapskate such as your humble author.

Last weekend, a regular consigner brought in the jacket pictured above, with the caveat that he knows I don't want orphaned suit coats, but this one is from Brooks Brothers, and maybe this one could exist as an odd jacket. My initial reaction was to answer with a resounding "no", but then he showed me the coat. Almost immediately, something occurred to me. I went to the trousers in my shop, and brought out a pair in the matching cloth, also Brooks Brothers, and in a waist size and inseam consistent with the size of the coat. Thing is, I've had these trousers in my possession for nearly two years. A new one, even for me.

Divine intervention? A prodigal son returns.

p.s. This suit, plus a number of other great new items, now available in the Shop. Check it out.

Rules of Thrifting: 1, 2, and 3

Pictured above is a three piece suit in cavalry twill, the most recent addition to my own Affordable Wardrobe. Heavy cloth like cavalry twill my not be the very thing we want to talk about this time of year, perhaps most especially on the heels of my last post about seersucker suits, but it bears discussion here as this suit goes to illustrate not one but three of the basics tenets of successful thrift shopping. Before we delve too deeply into that, let's have a closer look at the suit itself:

For those that may not know, cavalry twill is heavy wool cloth with a pronounced diagonal weave (twill), usually seen in shades of tan, brown, or olive. As with so many things in menswear, it's origins are military. As one might guess from its name, this hard wearing cloth was first developed for the British cavalry, hence it's frequent use in colors that also derive from the military. Think of it as the big cousin to khaki chino, also a military twill fabric. As such, it's traditionally what we might call a "country cloth", most at home with wool ties and thick brogued shoes. This suit is an excellent example of the cloth, just as thick and heavy as you please, in a classic color comprised of a combination of tan and grey threads woven together. Welted edges and seams are an appropriate detail.

Dating from the 70s, but by no means dated. The lapels and pocket flaps veer just this side of wide, but the only tough detail is the wide belt loops and waistband. Fortunately, there is no flare to the trouser legs, which are cut in a fairly classic manner.

Louis Boston is a well known high end shop. These days dealing mainly in the more expensive Italian lines (Zegna, Brioni, Kiton, etc.), in the 60s through the 80s they also ran "The Bekeley Shop". a store-in-store that dealt in more traditional Anglo-American clothing.

As I said, this suit clearly illustrates three of the most basic principles of successful thrift shopping. The first point is the easiest to state: buy it when you find it. Here in Boston, it's only just gotten warm, if not hot, outside. After escaping the grip of an especially long a cold Winter followed by a relatively chilly and grey Spring, we're all more than happy to reject the heavy stuff in favor or madras and seersucker. But it just so happens that I found this suit yesterday, and it would be foolish to leave it behind simply because it will be months before I get to wear it. Conversely, I bought my best madras jacket in the middle of that very same long, cold Winter.

Secondly, this suit is the result of hard core thrift perseverance.  I managed to reunite all three pieces from separately around the store. I found the jacket first, and was about to take a pass. A few minutes later, the vest turned up elsewhere in the store, and I realized the jacket wasn't just a jacket, but part of a suit. I took those two pieces to the pants section, where I then found the pants. I took the time to put them all together on one hanger, and paid suit price rather than three separate prices for each, though even at that it would have been crazy cheap. This cost me $14.99.

Thirdly, it speaks to the fact that thrift shopping takes vision. This suit is from the 1970s, but really the only "bad" 70s detail here is the wide waistband and belt loops. Truthfully, this isn't much of a problem anyway, since the suit is cut right and the pants are high enough that the entire waistband is covered by the vest, as it should be. Still, I plan to put in brace buttons and remove the belt loops, perhaps even have my tailor build buckle side tabs, thereby removing the only offending detail.

You see, being a full blast professional cheapskate is not as easy as simply rolling into the first thrift store you see with a dollar in your pocket. You have to know what you're doing. It takes vision, patience, and a lot of effort. Luck has only so much to do with it.

Better Isn't Always Best

Pictured above are two similar, yet very different double breasted navy blazers. The one on the left is from the Andover Shop, made of loosely woven hopsack in a classic  6x2 double breasted button stance, with four button cuffs. The one on the right is by Polo Ralph Lauren, in a denser twill weave, with a 6x2 double breasted stance rolled to the lower button. The one on the left is a recent acquisition, while the one on the right has been with me since Spring of 2012 and has been a favorite in regular rotation these last few years. Both were had for less than $10 in thrift stores.

Despite their similarities, its the differences that are most striking. The Andover Shop jacket has a more natural shoulder, while the button stance is more rigid and conservative. It has a darted silhouette, but is generally reserved. The Polo jacket has a soft extended shoulder and somewhat more "draped" chest, reminiscent of London tailoring of the 1930s. It has a more dramatic cut, yet the button stance lends it an air of casual elegance. The Andover Shop blazer has a center vent, despite being double breasted, while the Polo jacket has easy side vents.

They both have the same button stance, but they don't. The Andover Shop blazer has a hard nailed 6x2 stance, while the Polo has a soft version of the same thing. The Andover Shop jacket buttons lower, but has a more square set that the Polo jacket, which creates more of a swooping triangle without being hopelessly "90s".

Both have peaked lapels,  but the slight variations are striking. The Andover Shop blazer base very traditional peaked lapels with enough interior structure that they lay straight and flat to the chest. The Polo jacket has a more dramatic, wider lapel, with a sharper point, and less interior structure that allows it to "flop" a bit when moved. Both are size 42 regular, and both fit me well. The Andover Shop is a recent acquisition, the Polo jacket has become an old friend.

Strictly speaking, anything from the Andover Shop is inherently better than its equivalent from Polo, or is it? While it's true that the Andover Shop is a small and storied shop and Polo is a big ugly multi-national, in this case the decision is not so black and white. The Polo jacket has a slouchy nonchalance I like, tempering the formality of its double breasted cut with a certain ease. The Andover Shop has a more straight a head approach, good in its way, but less suited to the way I might wear such a blazer. For example, while I wear the Polo jacket with a shirt and tie most of the time, the other day I wore it open with a white tennis shirt and very faded jeans. It worked great, whereas the Andover Shop jacket would have failed miserably in the more casual application.

This is by no means to suggest that Polo is "better" than the Andover Shop, or vice versa. What I mean to tell you is that it's more important to find quality garments that not only fit well but are styled in a way that fit the applications in which you'll wear them. In this case, the Polo jacket was the better choice for me, for another man the clear decision would be for the Andover Shop.  What is "best" is what suits you most, whether or not it was the "better" thing to start with. Thrift stores have a way of leveling the field like that.

p.s. the last time I wore my Polo jacket into the Andover Shop, Charlie complimented it, then checked the label and muttered "goddammit" under his breath.

p.p.s. That Andover Shop blazer, among many other great items, is coming soon to the AAW Shop. Stay tuned.

Feast Or Famine

In thrift shopping, the most basic clothing items are often the most elusive. Odd as it may seem, you're often more likely the find unusual things than stalwart basics. With men's clothing, the basic items still get worn, and as such tend not to survive until the time comes to donate them. I have written on this topic before, and in my experience no garment has been harder to come by than a standard grey suit.

The classic grey suit had been so hard to find, in fact, that a few years ago when offered the chance to try custom through Imparali Tailors in New York, I immediately had one done up in charcoal grey in a year round weight wool. The suit has some minor points in the details that aren't entirely right, due mostly to my own miscommunication with the tailor, but in general I've been happy with that suit.

Then, in the past few months, the flood gates opened, and three other standard grey suits of excellent quality managed to find their way to me, each through a thrift channel of one kind or another. On the left we have the most recent acquisition, a mid grey tic weave in lightweight worsted with a ticket pocket and forward pleated trousers by Polo, from the heyday of USA production, had for $34.99 via ebay. In the center, a slightly heavier suit with a nailhead weave, also with forward pleats, by Paul Stuart, another ebay find, this one was $40. On the end, a heavy but soft flannel from the Andover Shop, gotten through trade with someone who bought it at a thrift shop. And that's not to mention the two suits I have in grey pinstripe, one for Summer and one for Winter.

Patience really is a virtue, especially so in thrift shopping. If you can only bide your time, every famine will be rewarded with a feast....eventually.

Thrifting Strategy: Ralph to the Rescue

Go ahead, sit down. Some of you are not gonna like this...

Let's begin with an old style AAW run-down of the days ensemble focusing on the crass subject of the low prices I paid for all of it, you know, like I used to do in the old days: Navy pinstriped double breasted suit, recently acqured from ebay, $30; Brooks Brothers point collar shirt, $5.49; Robert Talbott tie, trade; Albert Thurston bright orange braces, new-in-box (not pictured), trade;

and a pair of black tassel loafers by W.S. Foster and Sons of London, $9.99. Total cost of outfit= $45.48.

This suit represents the end of a long trip for me. After all, I'd been wanting the very suit for about twenty years, since the first time I laid eyes on it as a teenager in the 90s. To be sure, I thankfully no longer desire most of the same things I did as a teenager, but this particular cut of Polo suit has stayed the course. Readers may remember my excitement a while back at having also acquired a navy blazer in the same cut.

Soft shoulders, some drape in the chest, and the inimitable wide, knife sharp Ralph lapel.

And of course the 6x4 double breasted front with the option to be worn at either point, a detail I have never seen on any other make of jacket. Even the staunchest of Ralph's detractors will have to admit that there is some excellent attention to detail in the better  American and Italian made lines form Polo.

Forward pleated trousers, standard issue for Ralph in those days. People like to hate on the dude, but back then the only other place offering forward pleats outside of Britain was the Andover Shop, Yes, it's true, Charlie and Ralph have things in common. In fact, for as much as Charlie likes to rail on Ralph and his minions, a complaint I fully understand, I have heard him say the Ralph and Julia Child are responsible for rescuing American middle class taste in the 1970s. I'm inclined to agree. I've spoken in Ralph's defense here before. An entire generation may have grown up with no knowledge at all of good clothing and French cooking. To think of it.

I can remember being sixteen years old and seeing ads like this one in my Dad's copies of GQ, back before that magazine had become the complete cartoon it is now. And I wanted that suit so bad, but they were expensive. Even when they turned up at Filene's Basement (the real one) they were pricey, and besides, what business does some punk-ass teenager have wearing a pinstriped suit just for the hell of it? Talk about pretension. I suppose it went hand in hand with my underage preference for Dewar's or Johnnie Walker over cans of Natural Ice. Damn, I must have been an annoying kid. All of which brings me to my point.

Thrift shopping is of course a random and haphazard thing, but if you keep at it long enough, trends begin to emerge. Just as there are current trends in clothing, such is also the case in thrift shops, the only difference being that you'll see the trends of the past. Much of what you'll find tends to be fifteen or twenty years old, with the oldest things reaching back about fifty years. There are of course exceptions, and you may find brand new items with tags or true antiques.

A lot of whats out there now is from the 90s, and a lot of that is as dated and ugly as you might imagine. But in a time when adults first began to dress wholeheartedly like children, Polo was one of the only mass market brands producing better quality clothing in cuts and styles that don't look dated today, and there's a lot of it. Sure, there's still Brooks and Press to be found, but if we're going to survive the impending "dark times" in the thrift shops, it will largely be Polo that gets us through. Then we can breathe a sigh of relief when the young men of today who were fortunate enough to be a part of the current menswear renaissance begin to donate they're old clothes. 

You can wear well made nicely tailored and styled second hand Ralph, or else wear Armani with an absurdly low buttoning point, massive shoulders, no vent and lapel gorge set two inches too low. The choice is yours.