Winter White (or, the Vintage Look, sans Vintage)

Allow me to apologize for the blatant cell phone photography. Not up to my usual standard, but until I get this blog up to something like full speed again, we'll have to take what we can get.

Back in October, I happened to stumble across a pair of cream colored heavy flannel trousers in a thrift shop, for less than $10. Nice as they were, I didn't really have any need for them. If we're being totally honest, in modern times the idea of having a "need" for something like cream flannel pants is downright ludicrous anyway. Still, not two weeks after finding them I was to attend an event at Ralph Lauren in Boston for the release of the more than a little preposterous coffee table book "Rowing Blazers", and the invitation specified "regatta attire requested", whatever that means. So I now had an excuse. Score one for justification.

So with the event now behind me, what to do with the silly pants? Wear them, I guess, in January. And so unfolds my first foray into winter white.

Up top, things are somewhat quiet. A heavy cashmere navy blazer (trade), stripes tie by Robert Talbott (trade), and contrast collar shirt by Kenneth Gordon ($5.49) would be classic if a bit unremarkable with a charcoal flannels and dark brown tassel loafers. But instead, cream flannels, because I have them...

The pants are hey-day era Polo, with a high waist, deep forward pleats, brace buttons, full cut legs and big cuffs.

If you're going to wear pants like this in the modern world, you'll have to adopt something of a spirit of "go big or go home". To that end, dirty white bucks, with cream yellow socks,seemed the only logical footwear choice. Going "all the way", as the kids say, I topped the whole thing with a Polo polo coat, floppy tweed cap, and vintage inspired sunglasses. Sometimes it's fun to go to the hilt. Of course, it helps if you work in an environment where this sort of thing is somehow acceptable. 

True, I have argued against the dangers of treading the fine line between wearing vintage and dressing in costume, and this time it's likely that I crossed that line. Funny thing is, even though this outfit screams of the 1920s, and every piece of it is second hand, none of it is actually all that old. I guess that speaks to the real meaning of "classics" in menswear.

In the end, the cream flannels may have been too much of a conversation piece, even for me. The last thing a gentleman wants is everybody talking about his pants, or something, right? On the other hand, go ahead, I dare you.

A Matter of Proportion

So many people complain about the cold weather, but I'm not one. I'd been looking forward to wearing the Polo coat I'd acquired in trade for months. Mid-calf length and dramatic, I like the look of it over a suit as well as thrown on casually with jeans and Shetland sweater.Trouble was, the sleeves were just a whiff to short, maybe half an inch. The coat was fine in its casual setting, but whenever I wore it with tailored clothing, my jacket sleeves would stick out just barely past the coat sleeves. Only a little, but just enough to be wrong. A little shirt cuff beyond a jacket sleeve is one thing, but a coat sleeve should cover all the layers beneath it.

So I took the coat to my man in Cambridge to have the situation remedied. My tailor explained to me that the heavy rolled back cuff was actually a completely separate piece from the rest of the sleeve, and that the way to lengthen them would be to remove the cuffs completely, then re-attach them a half inch lower on the sleeves. 

He explained: "The cuffs, pocket flaps, and belt are all the same width. If I just drop the hem and re-stitch it, everything will be wrong. Most people will sense it, but most of them won't know why. It will take a little longer, but it's the right thing to do." It did take a little longer (and even more than one try), but he charged me the same as a simple sleeve job on a sports jacket. The coat now fits perfectly, proportions solidly in tact.

What's that I'm always saying about finding a good tailor?

Horse Trading

In Zach's first half of this post, he writes of the serendipity that is crucial to successful thrift shopping. I've often written of the virtues of patience when it comes to this stuff. For me, the trade we dealt last Winter of two "different but the same" polo coats involves a good deal of both.

When I found the polo coat that eventually found its way to Zach, I was happy. I had wanted a classic polo coat since high school, when I first learned what one was. At the time, I was heavily obsessed with 1930s/40s dress up, and the polo coat had all the details to match. Its a testament to the classic styling of the coat that no matter how my tastes varied with time, my desire to have one never waned. I paid thrift store premium for the coat, and wore it a few times, but was never more than 98% happy with it, and not exactly sure why. Then it hit me.

The coat I had lusted after these twenty years wasn't just a polo coat, it was the Polo polo coat, as seen here. Ralph Lauren was in top for in the early 90s, when ads like this were running ( note the correct fit of the clothing. This was before designers were locked in a death race to make the smallest, tightest version of everything). The style was impeccable, the quality was great, and most of the stuff was being made domestically. Unfortunately for a guy like me, the prices reflected all this. But I was hooked. Only last year I had managed to acquire the equivalent double breasted navy blazer, and I'd waited twenty years for the coat. What was another Winter or two? I let Zach know I had a nice coat that might fit him, and he replied with the news that he had a polo coat too, one that might be better suited to me than it was to him.

So lo and behold, there it was! The actual coat I'd been thinking of all this time, an actual early 1990s USA made Polo polo coat. The one I'd found had a trimmer cut, in keeping with its likely early 1960s provenance; this one is fuller, with softer tailoring and a mid-calf length, details I find fitting on a coat like this.

Ralph's classic wide, knife sharp lapel, and big fat seams and edges,

Big mailbox pockets and wide turn back cuffs, with a 6x3 button stance that has clearly been rolled to the center button. 6x3::6x2, there we go again with nerdy numerical codes

A wide half belt pulled just tight enough to create soft draped folds in the back.

We agreed to a trade and both walked away happy. We didn't discuss what either of us had paid for our half of the deal, because in the end it doesn't matter. Each of us found something we wanted for a price that was more than fair, and each of us was left with a tiny pang of elusive regret, but we both came away with something better.

Having friends who are hopelessly obsessed with thrift stores as you are helps you cast a net that is exponentially wider when you consider things for their trade value. Just make sure that none of your friends are exactly your size.

Horse Trading

Welcome to a new semi-regularly series called "Horse Trading". Zach of Newton Street Vintage and I  have a bad habit of trading most of our best things with each other, and this series will feature two part posts by each of us discussing the same trade. The first installment deals a very unseasonal polo coat, but it's a good place to start as it illustrates the only time where we both traded for different version of the same garment. Zach's post follows below, mine will come soon.

When Giuseppe and I team up for the markets, the wheeling and dealing starts before the clothes even leave the van. Actually, the wheeling and dealing usually starts while the clothes are being loaded into the van. Two clothes-mad menswear obsessives, a truck load of good vintage clothes, an East Cambridge old-man dive bar serving dollar 'Gansett, all the variables in the equation point to some serious sartorial commodities trading, and by "commodities" I mean stuff that 99% of the world considers old junk.

But if you're like us, and you know that the thrill of second-hand clothing involves a degree of serendipity that can't be found by throwing money around in retail chains, then you'll know that the art of the clothing trade is more than just a swap; it involves careful consideration of all the ways in which these clothes have value.

Before I wax too poetic about this I'll set the stage. G and I show up for the White Eagle Bazaar (at the aforementioned East Cambridge old-man dive bar) wearing nearly identical polo coats, both of which we thrifted, and neither of which were quite right for their wearers. Mine was an 80's  USA-Made Polo Ralph polo coat, with all the details that make a polo coat a polo coat, and big, broad sweeping peaked lapels that I love about all things Ralph does with peaked lapels. Trouble was, the sleeves were a bit short and it was a bit big through the middle. 

Giuseppe's coat was of older vintage, 60's Filene's, with with almost all the same details, only slightly shorter in the body than my Ralphie, with more conservative peaked lapels that curved with a bit more "belly" than Ralph's broad, straight peak. The Filene's also had a hooked vent, which I found to be a nice nod to 60s Ivy without looking too much like period costume.

Our usually frantic pre-market set-up was put on hold while we took turns trying on the coats and weighing the ins and outs of a potential trade. They both had roughly equivalent resale value, but Giuseppe's Filene's coat had more history to it. I liked the lapels on the Ralph but found the length on the Filene's to be better. The hooked vent was speaking to me, a detail that I hadn't seen on polo coats before. It came down to a matter of fit, and in the end G and I both came away with coats that fit us better than the ones we walked in with.

words and photos by Zachary De Luca