Pitti Uomo is the twice-a-year menswear tradeshow in Florence, Italy, where industry buyers and sellers meet so they can coordinate their seasonal offerings. But at last month’s Pitti Uomo, there was a strange and unexpected booth. It was nearly all white, had angular shelves, and showcased a new line of ready-to-wear shoes. Above the display, a printed banner read, “Foster & Son.”

For the last hundred years, London’s bespoke tailoring and shoemaking trades have prided themselves on being different from ready-to-wear. Many companies took great pains to explain how custom-clothing is superior to factory production. Additionally, the Savile Row Bespoke Association tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to guard who can use the term bespoke. But in the last ten years, there’s been a shift. Many of London’s best bespoke firms are now using the craft side of their business to give their ready-to-wear lines a halo — something Parisian haute couture houses have been doing for decades.

The venerable firm Foster & Sons has carried the grand tradition of bespoke shoemaking since 1840. They’re part of a small group of custom shoemakers located on the West End, sitting alongside names such as John Lobb and George Cleverley. During England’s medieval period, London was split into two halves. There was the proper city of London on the east, which was a center for finance, banking, and law. Then the City of Westminster on the west. When King Henry VIII built his new royal palace on St. James in the 16th century, he brought with him his aristocratic following. Wealthy elites were happy to live west of London because the pleasurable countryside was usually upwind of the smoke drifting from the crowded City. Over time, as money poured into the area, the West End became known for all the things associated with British aristocratic life — shopping, leisure, gentlemen’s clubs, government, and bespoke shoemaking.

In March of 1973, when men wore long hair and women sported bell-bottom jeans, The New York Times published an article by pioneering feminist scholar Carolyn Heilbrun. The article, titled “Androgynous World,” is about the persistence of the androgynous ideal. The United States at this time was at a flashpoint. While gender stereotypes were becoming more rigid, fashionistas and feminists were imagining a freer future. About five years earlier, Pierre Cardin and Paco Rabanne conjured up streamlined “Space Age” jumpsuits made from stretchy, synthetic fabrics as a way to imagine a unisex world. Second-wave feminists were also pushing back against the gender stereotypes of the previous decade. Many feminists believed girls were being lured into their subservient roles by first accepting gendered clothing expectations. To be equal to men, they’d dress like them – or, at least, in ways that weren’t traditionally feminine.

“The idea of androgyny apparently takes a little getting used to. First responses tend either toward bewilderment or hostility. The word itself is easily enough defined for the bewildered: comprising the Greek words anthro (male) and gyne (female), it suggests the unity rather than the necessary separation of what we have come to think of as masculine and feminine qualities,” Heilbrun wrote in her article. 

“For the hostile, who in some sense feel threatened by this unfamiliar idea, further assurance is required. Androgyny does not mean the loss of all distinctions; those who are terrified by the word probably envision everyone, man and woman, dressed indistinguishably, like members of the Chinese Army. Those who are terrified further assume that in robbing us of clearly delineated sexual models, androgyny will rob us of all order and sanity. If we are to have more than two accepted role models — in youth, the quarterback and the cheerleader, in later life, the corporation manager and the corporation manager’s wife — will we not, in fact, be diving off the edge of an ordered world into the abyss?”

The Talented Mr. Ripley, the film version and not the book, opens with a brilliantly economical line about clothes. Matt Damon, as the film’s anti-hero Tom Ripley, borrows a Princeton jacket from a friend while working as as a piano player at a party. The Ivy League jacket ends up getting him the attention of a wealthy shipbuilder, who thinks that Tom went to Princeton with his son Dickie. He sends Tom away to Europe, hoping Tom can convince his ne'er-do-well son to come back home from southern Italy. Having left his bleak Manhattan life, however, Tom becomes enraptured by Dickie’s charming dilettante lifestyle. So he strikes up a Faustian bargain and steals it. “If I could just go back … if I could rub everything out … starting with myself, starting with borrowing a jacket,” Tom silently dreams to himself at the beginning of the film. And doesn’t Tom’s line neatly sum up what we all wish for when we purchase a new jacket or pair of shoes? The fantasy that it’ll somehow magically transform our mundane lives? (Well, maybe without the murderous crime.)

The film is important to fashion in other ways. Every summer, men reference Anthony Minghella’s chilling thriller as one of their favorite sources for warm weather style inspiration. The Talented Mr. Ripley captures the feeling of being young and carefree, not unlike the films of French New Wave, but with more of a la dolce vita vibe and touristy idyllic scenes of a sun-drenched 1950s Italy. It’s a hypnotic, voluptuously beautiful film with tons of references to menswear cliches: inherited wealth, Ivy League education, and an impossibly glamourous lifestyle in an Italian seaside town. 

For that Dickie Greenleaf vibe, even if not its literal look, you can turn to Joyce. The relatively new brand offers the same laid-back, vacation style that defines the film. Their clothes are loosely cut, retro-inspired, and pair well with tortoiseshell sunglasses and well-mixed martinis. The company even has the same America-to-Italy backstory. The idea for the brand was first seeded when John Walters, the company’s founder, was working as a product designer in New York. However, it didn’t materialize until Walters visited his girlfriend in Florence, Italy (where they now both live). Today, it’s based out of their Florentine studio, while product fulfillment takes place out of Indian Wells, California. “Stylistically, our online visuals reference a lot of Pink Floyd’s earlier works, as well as some of Alain Delon’s films, such as Purple Noon and The Swimming Pool,” says Walters. “Aside from that, we also get a lot of our style inspiration from traveling.”

In her 1941 short story “The Standard of Living,” Dorothy Parker explores the all-too-familiar themes of escapism, materialism, and innocence. Two young “18-dollars-a-week” stenographers, Annabel and Midge, saunter down Fifth Avenue one Saturday afternoon while playing the game, “what would you do if you had a million dollars?” Through a chaste and elegant shop window, they spy a double rope, pearl necklace at one of Manhattan’s most exclusive jewelry stores. Yes, the first thing they’d do is buy this exquisite necklace, but how much do they imagine it costs? The girls assign a probable value of $1,000 — $10,000 at the most, they reason — before they summon the courage to go inside and inquire. But when the white-gloved salesman tells them it’s a quarter of a million, they stumble back onto the street. “He’s got his nerve!” Annabel exclaims.

The story goes on with Annabel and Midge dreaming of getting more money, supposing what they could purchase if the owner of that pearl necklace bequeathed them ten million dollars. What even more valuable thing they could buy that’s not so common? Of course, nothing is enough. They never imagined a stringed-up bauble could cost so much money, but upon learning its value, they start to wonder what’s around the corner.

“The Standard of Living” will sound uncomfortably familiar to anyone building a better wardrobe. The first pair of Allen Edmonds seems staggering until, at some point, you find yourself purchasing Crockett & Jones and looking around the corner at Edward Green. But plenty of things on the lower end of the price spectrum are, in fact, quite good. Parker’s story is about the elusiveness of contentment and escapism of glamour.

While fashion writers focus on the runway, actual fashion moments often happen on film. Marlon Brando’s smoldering look in The Wild One helped to cement the black double rider as the rebel uniform, just as the opening scene of Breakfast at Tiffany’s refashioned the black, sheath evening dress into a womenswear icon. In his 1985 book Elegance, Bruce Boyer calls these cinematic touchstones the “moments that signal or symbolize a shift in the old modus oprandi.” These scenes, as unimportant as they may seem, later become the film equivalents of the most memorable lyric in a song. And in being so, they change the ways we see clothing.

Boyer traces the moment when tassel loafers became an acceptable form of business dress to a particular scene in the 1962 film That Touch of Mink. The scene starts with Cary Grant, who plays the familiar international corporate head, walking into his wood-paneled office on Madison Avenue one average morning. “He’s wearing his familiar dark, impeccably cut business suit, white shirt, conservative tie, and black straight tip oxfords. He is the very glass of business fashion, the mold of form,” Boyer writes. Yet, upon settling in, Grant “removes his suit jacket and town shoes, and dons a discrete, but obviously very comfortable, lightweight cardigan and a pair of tassel loafers! Right there in the office!” In today’s business culture, where everyone wears jeans and sneakers, this story has a quaint ring to it. But as Boyer notes, this is just one of the many “less-than-earthshaking events that mark the road we have traveled.”

A similar moment happened for the sweatshirt, that mass-manufactured item that has none of the rock ‘n roll cool of biker jackets or the blue-collar credibility of blue jeans. Yet, when Steve McQueen wore a dusty blue sweatshirt in the film The Great Escape, particularly in that scene when “The Cooler King” raced through the mountain trails and slid into a barbed-wire barrier, the garment attained a touch of cool. The sweatshirt is as iconic as every other notable American garment – blue jeans, black double riders, sack suits, penny loafers, and button-down collars – and it symbolizes the same independent American spirit. Much of that is thanks to McQueen (or, really, his stunt double, Bud Ekins, who did the hard work in that chase scene).

It’s that time of year when I post a spat of seasonal sales. The third big one started this morning: No Man Walks Alone, where you can find select items discounted by as much as 40% off. Their sale is one of my favorites for two reasons. The first is that I get to post a photo of the shop’s founder, Greg Lellouche, and note that he is, in fact, walking alone. The second is the shop’s selection. While No Man Walks Alone is a sponsor on this site, they’re also one of my favorite online retailers. Along with some excellent tailoring, they also carry Japanese workwear, contemporary casual, and a bit of the avant-garde.

The selection here is big, but not massive. It’s reasonably easy to scroll through the entire sale selection to see if there’s anything you want, but No Man Walks Alone also has filters on their site so you can narrow in on sizes, colors, and brands. Some of my favorite makers here include Sartoria Formosa, Drake’s, and Kaptain Sunshine. If you’re looking for highlights, here are ten things that I think are notable.

Valstar’s Plaid Wool-Alpaca Topcoat

Mr. Porter is having a one-day sale today, where you can get 20% off select items with the checkout code JUNE21. The promotion only applies to items marked as “seasonal,” which you can find neatly organized under this “sun shop” section. Don’t bother trying to apply the code to other full-priced products or already-marked down sale items – I tried and it doesn’t work.

The good news is that there’s actually a bit of good stuff in the “sun shop” section. There are some handsome camp-collar shirts from Officine Generale, Gitman Vintage, AMI, and Kapital. I have an older version of that Kapital shirt and wear it all the time with ranch jackets, chore coats, and even on its own with just jeans. Additionally, there are some summer-ready shorts from Orlebar Brown and Officine Generale; mid-length swim trunks from Orlebar Brown; and my favorite chambray, which is made by Chimala. This Rubinacci “Victory” pocket square has a cream-colored background that makes it useful in just about any tailored outfit, but also a bit of pattern that keeps it looking like the solid-colored, cream squares worn by prom DJs (no offense to prom DJs). 

I also bought a vintage Lee’s 101-J trucker jacket from Wooden Sleepers yesterday (it’s pictured below). The style was introduced in the 1930s and is known as the first slim-fit denim jacket. But more than provenance, I like the design for its slanted chest pockets, zig-zag stitching, and slightly cropped fit (they’re shorter than Levi’s truckers). You can find them on Etsy for as little as $50, but if you’re looking to splurge, this Kapital trucker looks excellent. Note, Mr. Porter’s website recommends sizing up twice. 

END, a contemporary menswear shop based in the UK, always has one of the best end-of-season sales. Since they’re located in Europe, their prices are typically 20% lower than what you’d pay for the same items in the US, thanks to VAT deductions. Which means their end-of-season promotions are even better than what they seem at face value. At the moment, they’re holding their spring/ summer sale, where you can find select items discounted by as much as 60%. Once you account for VAT discounts, however, the sale is actually closer to 68% off. 

END’s online inventory is one of the few that rivals Mr. Porter’s (who, by the way, just dropped prices for the third time and are having a 70% off sale). Which means, your best bet is to browse through the sale selection by filtering for clothing categories and sizes. This way, you can stumble upon things you may not otherwise see. If you’re looking for highlights, here are some things I think are particularly worthwhile. 

Barbour: If you’re one of the few menswear guys left who doesn’t own a Barbour, END is one of the best places to score a deal. Again, since their prices are already lower than what you’d typically find stateside, their end-of-season promotions make these especially attractive. These days, I mostly wear the waxed cotton Bedale in olive, although the longer Beaufort is better for layering over sport coats. The Liddesdale is also a favorite of many people. It’s an uber affordable, quilted jacket that looks great with jeans and Shetland sweaters. At END, you can find the Liddesdale at a very low $95, while the waxed cotton models start at $209. For sizing advice, check out the Barbour buyer’s guide I wrote for Put This On. 

In the course of his American speaking tour in 1882, Oscar Wilde claimed that some silver miners tried to play a prank on him when he visited the rough, rust belt town of Leadville, Colorado. According to him, about a dozen miners led him to the bottom of a mine shaft with the intention of getting him drunk and leaving him there for a scare. But in a twist, the Dublin wit and writer regaled them with stories about the Italian goldsmith Benvenuto Cellini and Renaissance metal working. The miners asked Wilde why he didn’t bring Cellini with him, to which he explained that Cellini has been dead for quite some time. Living in a town where every man carries a revolver and no one dies of natural causes, the miners enquired: “Who shot him?” Afterward, they took Wilde to a dancing saloon, where a piano player sat in the corner with a sign over him that read: “DON’T SHOOT THE PIANIST; HE’S DOING THE BEST HE CAN.” It was, observed Wilde, “the only rational method of art criticism I have ever come across.”

Wilde is one of the few Europeans to ever leave the United States with something positive to say about American style – well, sort of. ‘‘In all my journeys through the country, the only well-­dressed men that I saw were the Western miners,” he lectured to an audience. In an issue of Harper’s Bazaar published the same year, an illustrator showed Wilde’s admiration for the miners’ uniform. “Their wide-brimmed hats, which shaded their faces from the sun and protected them from the rain, and the cloak, which is by far the most beautiful piece of drapery ever invented, may be dwelt on with admiration,” Wilde said. “They wore only what was comfortable and therefore beautiful.”

Compare this to when Albert Camus sailed into a New York Harbor in March 1946 to promote the English release of his novel The Stranger. During his three-month stay in Manhattan, Camus didn’t quite know what to make of the city’s “swarming lights” and "frantic streets,” but he was staggered by how the material abundance contrasted with the depravations of post-war France. He was less impressed, however, by American neckties. “You have to see it to believe it. So much bad taste hardly seems imaginable,” he later told a journalist. Seventy years later, Noam Chomsky recounted this anecdote to Glenn Greenwald after the two were introduced to each other at the University of Arizona. Confused, Greenwald asked Chomsky if he was trying to say something about his decorative, purple satin tie. Chomsky said plainly: “Yes.”