I found this photo on a friend’s Twitter feed last year. It’s from 1985 and shows the old Holliday & Brown shop in London. For those unfamiliar, Holliday & Brown was a legendary English tie-maker back in the day, although they also made shirts and dressing gowns. Here, one of their customers is being fitted for an ancient madder gown, with a sales associate showing what the sleeves will look like once they’re shortened.

I’ve been wanting an ancient madder gown ever since. Soft and chalky, I imagine wearing one would feel like you’re wrapped in a thin suede. Unfortunately, it seems they’re are no longer available today – at least in the kind of dusty, muted prints you see above. 

Some years ago, scientists found that two of the three dyes used to make madder caused cancer in rats. Which meant, when printers dyed their silks and dumped the solutions out to disposal plants, they risked getting carcinogens into water supplies. They never found a way to filter out those chemicals, so the dyes were banned and replaced with synthetics. Today, only the third dye (indigo) remains in its original form.  

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Summer is a good time for lighter-colored shoes, but they’re not always the easiest to wear. Outside of plain white sneakers – which are admittedly pretty useful, even if ubiquitous – colors that are lighter than mid-brown often stick out too much from your trousers. Most men want to wear things that draw the eye upwards, putting the focus on their shirt, tie, and jacket combination. Lighter-colored shoes, on the other hand, often draw the eye down. 

There are a lots of exceptions. Tan shoes can look great with a pale gray suit, if only because they’re darker than the trousers (the other combination, tan shoes with a navy suit, almost always looks terrible for the opposite reason). I also think they work well with low-contrast ensembles, such as these in this post, or when the shoes are balanced out with a lighter-colored jacket. 

There are also some shoes that are just iconic, such as white buckskins. Having started with students at Princeton in the 1950s, white bucks quickly spread throughout the Ivy League school system, becoming “the shoe” for the style-conscious. Usual combinations included tan chinos or grey flannels, with the dirtiness of the buckskin being a source of pride (much like a well-worn button-down collar). They’re less commonly seen today, but their association with traditional American style endures. 

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Charvet has something like a million shirtings in their workshop. Bolts of fine cottons and breezy linens, stacked shoulder-high from wall-to-wall. It’s the kind of inventory you could get lost in – figuratively and literally – but if you’re willing to venture through it, you’ll come out with the perfect shade of blue. 

I’ve always wanted to commission a Charvet shirt for just that reason, but truthfully, my dress shirt needs are pretty easily satisfied. Like most men, I find blue is blue, white is white. You can mix-in some stripes, and turn to a variety of different weaves, but at the end of the day, a shirt is just a background for your tie. 

Lately, however, I’ve been venturing into slightly bolder, vintage-inspired designs (including Alohas, which I’ll write about another time). For that kind of shirt, you’d have to go to some other place than Charvet – they mostly specialize in the kind of things you’d wear to the office. A better first stop, I think, is Bryceland’s in Japan. 

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For as long as I’ve been interested in shoes, I’ve always favored boots, and one of the first boots I fell in love with were Chelseas. An ankle-length, pull-on boot with elasticized gussets, they were originally invented as an easier-to-wear alternative to button-boots. It wasn’t until the 1960s, however, when they really took off. That’s when they were picked up by rebellious youths in Chelsea, London (hence the name) and The Beatles (although, technically speaking, The Beatles wore a modified version with Cuban heels). 

My first Chelseas were RM Williams’ Gardener. Rounded and clunky, I found them too casual for my wardrobe, so they were replaced a few years later with Edward Green’s Newmarkets. Since then, I’ve learned Chelseas can be worn with almost anything – black ones with slim, charcoal suits for a Modish look, or black jeans and black leather jackets for something edgier. Brown suede Chelseas go well with denim and olive field jackets, or just jeans and chambray shirts. 

I’ve liked my Newmarkets so much that I recently decided to revisit RM Williams’ catalog – this time picking up a pair of their sleeker Craftsman model in tan suede. They cost a fraction of the price of my Edward Greens, but the chiseled, angular toe box lends a more distinctive look than EG’s 202 last (which my Newmarkets are built on). The pull tabs have logos, which is unfortunate, but you don’t really see them when they’re tucked underneath your pants. 

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My favorite jacket from Steed isn’t even something I own. It’s a cream-colored DB Edwin once cut for style writer Glenn O’Brien. In an old feature at GQ, O’Brien said of it: “I have a few tuxes. I guess in case somebody books me in Vegas for a couple of nights. My first-string tux is a peak-lapel Anderson & Sheppard – makes me feel like a million plus. Another is a shawl-collar double-breasted tux. The oddball in my formal wardrobe is this double-breasted white dinner jacket I had made by Steed of Savile Row. It’s not really white, but sort of ‘clotted cream.’ Somehow I rarely wear it. Maybe I’ll throw it on for a party some hot night.” 

If tailored clothing can be hard to wear in the 2016, semi-formal clothes are only more so (and none harder to wear than a cream-colored dinner jacket, as O’Brien notes). Generally speaking, such jackets are reserved for open-air social gatherings on hot, summer evenings. Think: country club dances, yacht club parties, and outdoor weddings (presuming you’re the groom).  

Much of this comes from the jacket’s origins. In the 1930s, well-heeled vacationers wanted something formal they could wear in the tropics, but without having to endure the heavier, darker fabrics traditionally found on evening clothes. So they had white dinner jackets made, originally with single-breasted closures and shawl collar lapels, although double-breasted designs later became popular. 

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End made another round of markdowns and added some new things to their sale section last night. There are some surprisingly good deals, especially when you consider that some of their prices are already lower than what you’d pay in the US (mostly thanks to them discounting for VAT). 

Among some of the more surprising finds, there are Inis Meain and SNS Herning sweaters starting at $115.  Inis Meain’s linen crewnecks, for example, are just $119 (well below the $400+ you’d pay in the US). I wear mine with leather jackets on weekends. There’s also a good selection of Barbour jackets starting at $105, raw denim jeans for $89, and Buttero sneakers for just $115. 

Some other things I like:

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It’s no secret that the key to wearing tailored clothes in the summer is to get something with an open weave. Style writers mention the same line every July: get a jacket that’s softly tailored and unlined, made from a tropical wool or porous linen. That way, you can feel every passing summer breeze. 

The same idea applies to shirts. Everyone knows you can wear a lightweight cotton or linen shirt on a hot day, but few people think about the weave. 

At the most basic level, plain weaves are often more breathable than twills, although not all plain weaves are built alike. Some can be tight; others a bit loose. I recently picked up a few things from Acorn in the UK (a recommendable fabric supplier for those who get custom shirts made. Their cloths are a good value, even if they’re not particularly luxurious). A run down of some of their summer options:

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Small companies often have charming stories and interesting provenance, but sadly, sometimes the quality just isn’t there. That’s the case with Miserocchi, the original car shoe company that invented driving moccasins back in 1942. Their most famous customer, Gianni Agnelli, wore them with soft-shouldered suits and spread-collar polos. After a car accident left him permanently injured, he found their slip-ons much more comfortable than anything stiff or welted.  

In the world of driving moccasins, Miserocchi is dwarfed by Car Shoe and Tod’s, who produce their shoes by the thousands in Eastern Europe and Italy. Miserocchi, on the other hand, still operates out of a small workshop in the alpine village of Domodossola. Supposedly, the two brothers who founded the company had a falling out many years ago. One took the company name, which he later sold to Prada. The other kept the factory, which is now run by his sons. As the marketing line goes, the company still produces everything the way they did fifty years ago, even with a bright red model named after Agnelli (which is what the industrialist wore). 

All that means little, however, once you actually order from them. Back when he was still writing, Will at A Suitable Wardrobe complained about how it took months to get his shoes, and how there were tons of unanswered emails and missed delivery dates in the process. My experience, unfortunately, was the same. It took about three months to receive my order and once I did, I was disappointed with the quality. The leathers are cheap and thin; the soles have loose stitching; and there’s visible glue at the heel. Perhaps worst of all, these just aren’t terribly comfortable. The insoles are made from a hard rubber – much harder than what’s used in my Car Shoes – which makes these feel like Italian getas. 

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Pitti Uomo is happening this week. The bi-annual menswear tradeshow is mostly a place where brands and stores meet for their seasonal buys, but in the last few years, it’s also become into a jostling peacock event. Street style photographers descend on the show to take pictures of the more extravagantly dressed men – and some attendees couldn’t be happier to oblige. I can’t tell if the guys dressed like Dick Tracy villains look like that in everyday life or if it’s just a show for internet attention. 

In the sea of bad, however, there’s often some good. The key, I think, is finding the right photographer. One of my favorites is Maxime Tormen, a former tailor at Sartoria Ripense who shoots street style photos in his free time. His blog, Neo Retro Style, doesn’t have the kind of post-processing you see on other style sites (e.g. saturated colors pumped up to 100), but in some ways, that only makes his images more relatable. 

For guys who visit style blogs often, a lot of faces here may be familiar: bespoke tailors Edward Sexton, Antonio Panico, and Kotaro Miyahira; designer Yasuto Kamoshita (pictured above); and store owners Mark Cho, Simon Righi, and George Wang. I think Tormen also has some of the best photos of Our Mystery Man (who turns out to be Noboru Kakuta, although little else is known about him). 

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The penny loafer was the sine non qua of the post-war Ivy Look. Often worn with Shetland sweaters, flat front chinos, and tweed sport coats, they were the choice of Ivy League students across the East Coast, later finding broader appeal through Esquire. More than being an Ivy shoe, however, penny loafers embody the kind of casual, dressed-down style that the US has always championed (much like button-down collars, in that sense). In fact, that’s what originally made them popular with students, who wanted something comfortable and smart, but sufficiently casual to avoid looking corporate. 

Which is why they continue to be so great today. They’re dressier than sneakers, but not as formal as wingtips. They go just as well with jeans and casual jackets as they do with sport coats and trousers. The Prince of Wales even wears them with casual suits (although I don’t recommend them with dark business suits). 

If the penny loafer is an American icon, it stands to reason that the best pennies ought to be from a US company. Unfortunately, G.H. Bass – who invented the style in the 1930s by placing a vamp saddle on a Norwegian slip-on – hasn’t made good shoes in decades. That leaves Alden, Allen Edmonds, and Rancourt, all three of which are good, but I find their best pennies to be very casual. Alden’s partially lined slip-ons, for example, go well with jeans and Trad looks, but their dressier, Copley-lasted loafers don’t have as much sophistication as Edward Green’s Piccadilly (my favorite with tailored clothing). 

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