THE AGE OF MONOCLE MAN.

If the late 90′s was all about Mondeo Man, then maybe this decade will be all about Monocle Man.

You might know him well. He shops at Borough Market and Columbia Road. He listens to Radio 4. He might grow his own veg or at least get a vegebox, drink wanky coffee and listen to Mumford & Sons (whose name actually sound like a countryfied clothing label). And, of course, he reads ever-so-slightly po faced magazines like Inventory, A Continuous Lean. and, of course, MONOCLE.

There are so many Monocle Man clothing labels popping up right now that is has almost become a genre in itself. Take a vaguely old-fashioned sounding name, maybe put a waxed jacket in there and a pair of Quoddy boots and play some Seasick Steve in the background.

Aubin & Wills, Universal Works, Bamford & Sons, Folk, Norse Projects, SNS Herning, The Hill-Side and the recently launched Percival all trade upon workwear silhouettes, authentic-style branding and a modern reworking of a certain halcyon-ised aesthetic. That’s not forgetting the originators of the trend; Margaret Howell, Oliver Spencer, Hartford, Anderson’s, A.P.C., Engineered Garments and Woolrich Woollen Mills, Labour & Wait’s smattering of clothes and bags and the grandaddy of them all, Albam.

At first it was fun, but Monocle Man has homogenised the high street, in a rather backwards-looking way. It’s easy to think that this is a wholesome, original aesthetic but a company like Albam is as much about clever branding and marketing; as off-the-shelf and prolific as the Emo, WAG, Balmain or Boho looks were last decade.

Though it’s impossible to condemn Monocle Man entirely. The new Metrosexual he may be, but the look has a basis in long-standing, hand-made and sourced product as opposed to disposable fast fashion; it’s also a comfort zone for men I know who usually wouldn’t wear burgundy, chinos or knitted snowflake cardigans to express themselves a little more. Just spare me from the po-faced magazines (and the coffee).

THE SHIRTS.

Do you remember what it was like shopping as a kid? Or more accurately, how it felt to be bought a new piece of clothing? Something you loved and wore to death?

The earliest memory I have like this is being dragged reluctantly into H&M Wimbledon, and coming out bedecked in a squiggly polo shirt, some kind of nautical jumper and (I think) yellow shorts aged about nine. I got that first buzz, that first tingle of clothes being more than just something to stay warm in. There were trips to Gap (when Gap was good) for anoraks, flares and a certain orange plaid scarf I had right through to university. Late 90′s Uniqlo provided me with oversized merino knits and TK Maxx with a brown cord jacket. I listened to bad folk music. I wore ironic badges. Again, it was the late 90′s.

Now that I’m a man and I buy clothes for myself, much more often, the buzz has dispersed.

But today my SS 10 shirts by Martine Rose landed and, in my skint, praying-for-an-end-to-February fug they made me feel like a kid again. Wrapped in a paper bag with my name on, I hastily tore open the packaging on the tube and felt, well, elated. In fact just like a kid with a bag of Woolworth’s pic’n'mix (naturally).

For SS 10, Rose’s designs are head-spinningly clever. One shirt features a woven, green/grey coloured cotton through the body; the sleeves are waxed navy cotton and the collar’s waxed orange; and then the brightest shade of searing hot pink in circles under the arms, and a zip on the neck. The other is pale pink with an orange waxed front and, again, that HOT HOT pink-coloured sleeves.

Maybe it’s the colour that’s got me excited. Both the shirts look like Fruit Salads wrappers compared to my almost head-to-toe navy/denim/grey/black wardrobe. Wearing crazy colour after so much black, for so long, feels like an act of rebellion.

Maybe it’s the fact that one of the singular best things about fashion is the clothes that you get bought for you, given, inherited, lent or received through osmosis. Being single a few day’s after the annual hell that is Valentine’s Day, it felt good to get a present for myself. It’s also the fact that these are well-made, unique and escapist items of clothing far removed from the everyday.

Either way, I definitely got that feeling back.

Today’s Pick: The Fred Perry Blank Canvas x Stussy polo shirts have dropped at oki-ni!

Rest in peace

I think everyone is in shock more than anything else. Of course, Lee Alexander McQueen passed away yesterday.

There is an unbelievable article by that old hack, Toby Young in the Telegraph today.

http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/tobyyoung/100025884/alexander-mcqueen-genius-or-just-charismatic/

I think we can all agree that is unfair and distasteful (much like everything Mr. Young does). An artist, novelist or film-maker would not have been given that treatment.

I think McQueen’s legacy will only be revealed in time. What he brought to our culture- not just the fashion industry- was multi-faceted. That is why he has been called a genius. We have him to thank for Lady GaGa’s theatrics, as the best advertisement for Central St Martins, for making clothes that flatter the old and young and that people really do buy and wear. His story is also an inspiring one, and I think a lot of people have taken strength from the idea that somebody from a not very privileged background can become the head of a couture house through sheer brilliance alone.

Maybe his biggest achievement was maybe that, unlike so many of the big fashion houses or name designers, we all ‘got’ it. Despite the controversial and grand guignol obsessions in his work these were great, flattering and instrisically cool clothes from the highest showpiece down to a McQ diffusion line jacket or pair of jeans. After his A/W 09 collection we went into his showroom where a couture-level gown swirled out on a mannequin, covered in a houndstooth print that turned into birds. On shelves opposite were bags and rings and clutches that would sell huge volumes all across the world- but they all had the strong signature of one man, and they all felt of the same value. That is a real rarity, for such a big fashion house. He touched upon everything from streetwear to corsetry and show-stopping priceless gowns, and created some of the most memorable fashion shows of all time.

And he was British.

For a much better obituary, read Jess Cartner-Morley’s piece in the Guardian here.

Oh, the joys of a warm waist

It always, always seems to start with that one woman. You know her name- you probably know it too well. It practically slides off the tongue and, if like me, you obsess about fashion then you might find yourself saying it on a weekly (perhaps daily) basis. She has a film named in her honour; she has shops all over the world that sell clothes in huge quantities.

And yet…

Miuccia Prada usually shows something very different to everyone else; there was a season not long ago when Mrs. Prada showed cummerbunds that looked like high-waisted underwear over the model’s shirts. Like so many of her ideas, one seemingly plucked from the middle of nowhere and dropped like a little bomb in the middle of her catwalk, designed to make tongues like ours wag.

Where Prada follows, Raf often pushes through (though often the relationship reverses). Again; last winter’s Raf Simons collection was stuffed with classic tailoring, and classic ‘how the fuck do I wear this?’ bits like knitted cummerbunds that contorted the stomach inwards and came worn over Italian tailored shirts and officey black trousers.

Burberry did a Haramaki-style knitted belt. Ann Demeulemeester too. And from the A/W 10 shows, EVERYONE’S AT IT and the cycle is complete. I’m talking about the wide belt, the cummerbund, the crumb-catcher (as it was once known). Did you know that the pleats of cummerbunds were once used to hold tickets and, probably, mints?

This modern emphasis on the waist isn’t about suits, shirts and bow ties though. It’s more eastern- more of a sash, an obi belt. Lanvin’s A/W 10 show boasted what looked like massive, almost robotic suede ones worn under a similarly-coloured trench. There were leather seatbelt-like affairs over blazers- we’re not talking necessarily tight here, but almost low-slung like the waist belt on a backpack. Others were wide and almost corset-like, some wrapped felt and leather with skinny buckles and high backs that looked curiously determined and macho worn with zipped leather gloves and (gasp) Lanvinised combats. Further still were just ribbed ghost waistbands, cut off from a jacket and zipping closed. Talk about pushing the options.

As anyone who’s tried to belt a traditional belt over a coat and been frustrated at how anaemic it can look, I think these belts will be more than just another styling gimmick come autumn. They even have a little twinkle of being a Next Big Thing.

Mrs Prada? There were none in her show. Raf? Well, he brought them back for another winter, but lower slung, pinched and… let’s be frank here- knitted skirts.

Something we at MENSWEAR welcome whole-heartedly.

Today’s outfit: Doctor Martens suede desert boots; generic black socks; vintage skinny jeans. Vintage kilim-weave belt from the Battersea car boot sale. Carolyn Massey cotton pique bib granddad top. Carolyn Massey wax cotton backpack and blue knit scarf. Miu Miu grey cardigan. Grey herringbone Topman coat.

Listening to: The Whitest Boy Alive, 1517- a song that came out a while back, but only realised its genius about… an hour ago.