This post is sure to please no one. Not traditionalists who have no interest in anything outside of a coat and tie. Not workwear purists who dislike any kind of pre-distressing. And certainly not anyone who knows the name of this blog, who will rightly wonder why they’re reading about workwear on a site called Die, Workwear! But, so it goes …

Lately, I’ve been really impressed with Chimala. It’s a Japanese line that started in 2006, originally with a focus on women’s collections, but has recently expanded into menswear. Pants tend to fit a bit loose and full, and have a casual, carefree sensibility that I think is refreshing today’s skin tight fits. Coats and shirts are a bit slimmer, with the second being more so than the first. The line is slightly reminiscent of Japanese brands such as 45rpm, and will probably appeal to the same fan base.

Unfortunately, the nicest aspects of Chimala’s line – the subtle detailing and fabrication – don’t come through well in photos. Like the new Barbour Beacon collection, which is now designed by Norton & Sons’ Patrick Grant, these are clothes you have to handle in person to appreciate. This last season, for example, they made a navy shirt jacket from a really interesting wool/ nylon material. The fabric had a nice spongy feel to it, and seemed well suited for transitional weather. There were two side-entry pockets at the front with reinforced stitching, elbow patches at the sleeves for detailing, six corozo buttons for front closure, and a drawstring hem which, from what I could tell, was mostly for decoration. I really wanted to purchase it for wear with casual chinos, but figured nobody would pay the full retail price of $400. “I’ll smartly wait until it goes on sale, and get it at 40% off,” I thought. A week or two after first seeing it, my size sold out, and most of the remaining sizes went quickly after that.

There was also a really nice chambray shirt with many “standard” vintage details - vintage style buttons, triple needle construction, and run off chain stitching at the hem. Two pockets decorated the chest, with non-wonky cuts for people who are a bit tired of the strange designs that adorn shirts these days. The only controversial thing is the finishing. The shirt had been heavily washed and pre-distressed, and there was “faux darning” at the collar and one of the cuffs, which you can sort of make out in this photo. Light brown staining had also been applied to one of the chest pockets.  You can see similar details in their women’s line, such as this chambray shirt reviewed by Archival Clothing.

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There’s a building in Moscow called GUM (pronounced “goom”) that sits in the city’s historic Red Square. It’s massive, running alongside the square, and vaguely resembles some of London’s old railway stations. It was built in the 19^th century as a marketplace, and held over a thousand stores at the peak of its operation. After the Russian Revolution in 1917, the building was nationalized and the stores were taken over by the state through Lenin’s New Economic Policy. That unfortunately failed, so under Stalin, the merchants were kicked out completely and the building was converted into office space for the ruling Communist Party.

Since the end of the Second World War, GUM has slowly moved back to a private business model, and today is basically a shopping mall for Russia’s elites. The Russians have a funny saying about the place – that it’s an “exhibition of prices” since few people can actually afford to buy anything there. GUM holds stores such as Cucinelli (where I once tried on a pair of sweatpants that cost several thousand dollars), Hermes, and John Lobb. It’s funny to me that, today, if you stand in Red Square, you can see almost all of Russian history by just sweeping your head from one side to the other. There’s Saint Basil’s Cathedral representing “pre-modern” Russia; Lenin’s tomb representing the Communist era; and GUM, which is essentially a mall for today’s Russian oligarchs.  

Anyway, setting my political views aside, it’s in GUM where you can also see some of the finest alligator and crocodile leather products in the world. The rule of thumb for such exotic leathers is simple: you generally want evenness in the scales, and clean, crisp lines. But to actually see something exhibit these qualities is its own education completely. 

Take these two belts, for example. The top one is made by Bertrand Montillet, a former Hermes craftsman who lives in Paris and now privately produces bespoke commissions for clients. The bottom one is just some image I found online, but you can find similar belts on eBay or any thrift store. The quality difference between the two is obvious. The first has beautiful, clean lines and the second looks wrinkled and cheap.

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Everyone seems to want things custom-made these days, but there’s an advantage to ready-made that’s rarely talked about. With ready-made, you can more easily see what you’re getting before you pay for it. I was reminded of this when I recently received a pair of made-to-order loafers from Rancourt. These are their pinch penny loafers – moccasin constructed, with a handsewn strap, hard leather bottom, and unlined leather uppers. The term “unlined” here is a bit of a misnomer, because few shoes are truly made without any lining. Like with neckties, “unlined” in footwear typically means there’s just less lining, not that there’s no lining at all.

To explain, well-made shoes often have a full leather liner built in, so that two layers of leather are joined together to form the upper. This gives the shoes more support and structure, so that they hold their shape better over time. I wanted an unlined shoe, however, to feel like Alden’s unlined penny loafers. Those are floppy, soft, and feel like slippers. Those who’ve worn them know how comfortable they are. The problem is that they have a skin stitched detailing at the toe, rather than a genuine moccasin stitch. This means a single piece of leather is pulled over the last, and then a “skin stitch” is made at the toe for decorative effect. A genuine handsewn, on the other hand, is made with at least two pieces of leather – one forming the sides of the upper, and another for the vamp – with a handsewn saddle stitch to join everything together. That’s the moccasin style Maine producers are known for, and to my eye looks more pleasing for such a casual style shoe.

I told Rancourt I wanted something unlined so that it would be floppy and soft like Alden’s model, so they recommended their Orion suede leather. But when the shoes arrived, they weren’t floppy at all. “Unlined,” to be sure, but they’re soft in the way that any “unlined” boat shoes or camp mocs would be. It was a bit of a let down.

Still, they’re nice shoes, and appreciably more American than my English loafers. I think I’ll enjoy wearing them this spring with oxford cloth button down shirts, cotton trousers, and Shetland sweaters. It’s just unfortunate they’re not that floppy. 

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The last couple of years haven’t been kind to Scottish cashmere. The recent buyout of Barrie Knitwear and the shuttering of Caerlee Mills reminded me that I ought to get what I can before things disappear. So, last fall, I placed an order for a custom cable knit through William Lockie. This is the same as their Chirnside model - a four-ply cashmere crewneck – but made to slimmer specifications than what’s offered as stock.

The term “ply,” as many will know, refers to the number of strands twisted together to form a single yarn. An “unplied” yarn has no twist, either because it has not been spun or because it’s been made by extrusion. The greater the number of plys, the thicker the yarn. A thicker sweater will naturally be warmer, but it will also be harder to layer underneath sport coats. Generally speaking, a two-ply knit is good for wearing with tailored jackets, while something like this four-ply is better worn alone or underneath casual outerwear.

In any case, the sweater arrived last month, and I’ve been wearing it regularly. On first impression, it seems to have some of the qualities of the much fabled, old Scottish cable knits – the stuff made prior to the 1990s and said to be hardier than the sweaters produced today. Modern cashmere is often heavily milled in order to achieve a fluffy, cloud softness, but this also weakens the yarn, which is what leads to pilling. This Lockie, in contrast, is made from pure cashmere, but feels more like regular wool, much like the old stock cashmeres I once handled at Cable Car Clothiers. That is, it’s soft, but not silky, fluffy, cloud soft like the stuff you might find in an Italian luxury house.

I’ll wear it for a year and see how it fares. Lockie sells their knits through their online store Heather Wallace. The standard make only comes in five colors – blue-mix, navy, flannel grey, lovat green, and linen – but if you order something custom, you can choose any of the yarns listed in their Melrose model. If this navy cable knit holds up well after a year, I think I’ll order three more in bottle green, linen, and flannel grey. I’m hopeful this one will turn out well, for thankfully, it’s not that soft. 

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I’m heading off to Canada for the holidays, where there are real winters. San Francisco has been rather mild this season, save for one bitter cold spell, but in Canada, it starts to snow in December. It doesn’t get as bad as Russia, but it gets bad enough to need real winter boots. 

Two that I’m bringing are these by James Purdey & Sons and Edward Green. The Purdeys are field sport boots originally meant for hunting, but I think they make for excellent general-purpose boots when the weather turns foul. The bottoms have studded Dainite rubber soles for extra gripping, and the bellow tongues help prevent water from leaking around the laces. The only problem is that they take a while to put on. The speed hooks are a great help, but you still have to explain to any company you’re with why you have to buckle down four straps when you’re both just going out to grab some quick lunch. Luckily, that extended shaft, which comes about mid-calf, gives some excellent added protection should you have to face cold shoulders.

The other pair of boots is Edward Green’s Galway made from the company’s walnut country calf (the rustic version of their dark oak leather) and built on their 64 last, which they originally developed for Holland & Holland’s shooting boots. The insides have been specially lined with shearling so that, when you have thick socks on, your feet never have to know what season it is. Pete, my e-friend and co-writer at Put This On, recently called them “Eddy Green Uggs.”

What I like most about these boots is that all their special detailing - the buckle straps, bellow tongues, and shearling linings - are hidden when you actually have the shoes on. When worn, they look like any other suitable winter boots from a Northampton maker. They’re unique without having to scream so. Plus, they just feel incredibly sturdy and tough, making you feel ready for any Canadian weather. 

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If you’ve read menswear blogs for any length of time, you’re probably well acquainted with the basics of proper shoe care. Give your shoes a day of rest in between each wear and insert cedar shoe trees when they’re not in use. When the leather starts to look a bit dry, apply leather conditioner and use some polish to help raise a shine. If you have the time and inclination, you can also bull the toe caps and heel cups in order to give your shoes a bit of flashy detailing.

There’s another shoe care technique – wear your shoes as often as possible, put them through hell, apply leather conditioner sparingly, and do little else. This is particularly good for workboots, where you want the age to show. The best example of this might be a pair of service boots Andrew Chen (3sixteen’s co-founder) bought from Viberg two years ago. You can see them here new and here after eighteen months of wear. Andrew tells me he did little to take care of his shoes except wipe them down with a damp cloth every once in a while. Truthfully, they don’t seem like they were even wiped down that often, and that’s probably why they look so great.

I liked how Andrew’s shoes looked so much that I recently picked up these service boots his company made with Viberg as part of their Decade Collection (a special line of products made in celebration of 3sixteen’s tenth year anniversary). These were modeled after Andrew’s original service boots, only this time, they come in black and olive. Mine are the second, though olive is a strange name for the color. They’re more like the dirty brown shown on 3sixteen’s site. The leather is Horween’s Chromepak, which is a pull-up leather that’s considerably more oily and stuffed than the company’s famous Chromexcel. That means the material is exceptionally soft and pliable, and that scuffs come out easier than your regular pull-ups.

The olive Chromepak is unfortunately all sold out, and probably won’t be made again since Horween has run out of the material. I actually bought the last pair (sorry) and it was the sample, which is why the tongue is made from a matching olive Chromepak leather, rather than the contrasting black you see on the final design. However, a few sizes of the black version are left (be sure to size down a full size), and Andrew tells me that they’ll be continuing this boot into the future with other materials. The price isn’t cheap, but the quality is outstanding. Once well-aged, these are the kind of shoes that would look perfect with a pair of faded, raw jeans; an old, white cotton t-shirt; and a beat-up leather jacket. I don’t think I’ve ever looked so forward to destroying an expensive purchase. 

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Two years after seeing a pair of handsome, single-buckle boots on master tailor Antonio Panico, I finally got a chance to own a pair through Edward Green’s made-to-order program. Like Panico’s, mine have a single buckled-strap going across the top of each shoe, where laces would otherwise be. Unlike his black sueded pair, however, mine are made from Edward Green’s dark oak leather, which I would argue is the best dark brown calf in the business. These were also made on the company’s conservative, round-toe 202 last, and finished with light antiquing at the toes and slightly weathered-looking brass buckles.

Edward Green recently revamped their made-to-order program so that there are now two tiers. Well, three if you count Top Drawer. Top Drawer is the company’s premium made-to-order service, where shoes are produced with fiddleback waists, the client’s initials pegged into each sole, and extra time and attention at each stage of the manufacturing process. My chukkas (and the Shannons I wrote about earlier this year) were ordered through the standard made-to-order program, which was recently split into two offerings (at least when you go directly through Edward Green). For simple customizations, such as a change in leather, the upcharge is now just 150 GBP, while more complicated requests, such as a change in the pattern, will cost more.

This makes Edward Green’s made-to-order service much more affordable for people like me – people who are just looking for a standard model made in a different leather, or for an old archived model to be made again. From my last count, the company has over twenty-five leathers, and they keep adding more. This past year, for example, they just got in something called Delapre, which I’m told is an extra fatty, extra waxy material that’s good for wet weather conditions. If you’re not in London, swatches of these materials can be sent to you for your choosing.

The only downside is that for archived shoes, there’s still no catalog that contains everything. So, for that, you’ll have to browse StyleForum, keep an eye out at various stockists (Leffot carried this single buckled chukka last year), or go though An Uptown Dandy and Centipede (two sites with pictures of old Edward Green models).

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On books regarding classic men’s clothing, much of the field can be broken up accordingly. There are books on how to dress well, which serve no other function than to give men a practical guide on how to improve their state of dress. Some of the better titles in this category include Dressing the Man, A Guy’s Guide to Style, and Esquire’s Handbook of Style. Then there’s an assortment of books for people who take a particular interest in menswear, beyond learning how they can dress well. These include history books such as Esquire’s Encyclopedia and History of Men’s Fashion, as well as various “academic” titles, such Ready-Made Democracy and The Men’s Fashion Reader. 

The biggest category can only be described as titles that are little more than dressed-up picture books (though obviously that’s not what these books bill themselves as). Of the recent releases, I like A Style is Born and Bespoke, and Vintage Menswear was surprisingly fun. I also really enjoy Francois Baudot’s somewhat awkwardly titled The Allure of Men. Whereas most books focus on just Anglo traditions in the 19th and 20th centuries, The Allure of Men goes all the way back to the 17th century and includes more of Continental Europe. There are also bits of Africa, East Asia, and the Middle East thrown in, but this is still largely about Western modes of dress. 

The Allure of Men has a long essay on the history of menswear, which is good, but can be a bit too basic for someone who has already read a few of these sorts of essays. The real value is in the images, which showcase different forms of masculine style since the Romantic period. Like all good picture books, it captures something many of the aforementioned categories don’t: that style is a lot more than being able to select well-made clothes and discern how something should fit. There’s a certain intangible quality that makes something distinctive and attractive. I wish I could say this is just a result of good photography, but I’ve met men who share the same tailor, and some simply carry their clothes better than others.

To that end, I’ve always thought it’s good to have a few of these picture books around, so that we’re reminded to not be too narrowly focused when it comes to menswear. There’s so much written about pattern combination and color coordination, yet so little about the manner in which we wear what we do. As Bruce Boyer suggested Eminently Suitable (another great book, by the way), perhaps this is because wearing clothes well is still something of an art, not a science. Men who wear clothes well “wear them well apart from being properly coordinated, or having pleasing physical attributes, or buying expensive clothes, or following the rules of the trends or even the conventions.” Some guys simply know how to look good in their duds.  

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There are so many online guides for what you should buy, but nothing substitutes for experience. Every fall, for instance, I go into the season thinking I should wear my jodhpur boots more often, and every winter, they remain barely touched. I bought a chestnut tan pair from Ralph Lauren four or five years ago, and haven’t worn them more than a handful of times. I blamed their lack of versatility on the color, as I find lighter colored shoes to be harder to wear than dark ones, so I foolishly bought another pair in dark brown (luckily, I didn’t pay anywhere near Ralph Lauren’s retail price). Remarkably, those have been worn even less. The problem is that they can look too distracting when worn with tweeds, and too costumey with waxed or quilted jackets. The only time I’ve seen them look good is in various streetwear ensembles, which I don’t have a good wardrobe for. 

So, I’ve been thinking about trading in these jodhpurs for some new Chelseas, which may or may not be as equally useless. On the upside, Mark from The Armoury (pictured above) always looks great in his, and I know a few men who swear by their boots. I can see how a dark brown pair in either suede or calf could look great underneath some jeans, and how a black pair can smarten up some grey flannel trousers. And although I dislike sport coats with jeans, I have to admit Michael J. Fox looks pretty good in his jacket, jeans, and Chelsea boots in the opening to his new TV show.

The best Chelseas I’ve seen are John Lobb’s Chesland and Edward Green’s Newmarket, but I’m reluctant to spend that kind of money on something I’m not sure I’d wear all too often. A bit more affordable are Carmina, Sid Mashburn, and Crockett and Jones, with the last having three versions (model 3 being the sleekest, 5 being the roundest, and 8 being a nice compromise between two). Foster & Son also has a really nice version in their ready-to-wear line. Those still clock in at around $500, which is a lot to spent on something you might not wear that often, but it’s also hard to know until you own them. 

(Photos via The Armoury, Esquire UK, AlexHold, Mr. Porter, Sid Mashburn, and Skoaktiebolaget)

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It’s not hard to find yourself buying too much when you have an interest in clothing, but on the upside, the longer you’ve been interested, the easier it is to be selective. I remember when I first started trying to dress well, I accumulated all sorts of accessories I didn’t need. Like a useless number of belts, which, over time, I found myself reaching for only a select few - dress belts with a stitched edge to wear with woolen trousers; thick leather belts to wear with jeans; and simple bridle leather belts to wear with chinos. Things such as ribbon belts, surcingles, or belts with unique closures (o-rings, D-rings, etc) all sat untouched in my closet, as I’ve found them to look too distracting when actually worn.

Recently, Marcus Wiley gifted me one of his bridle leather belts. Bridle leather, as many may know, is a vegetable tanned cowhide that has been finished with fats, waxes, and tallow. The leather was originally created for bridle reins used in horse riding, which is of course where the material takes its name. Marcus sources his bridle leather from a tannery located in the West Midlands region of England, and it’s as good as any other bridle leather I’ve seen. The material is flexible enough to be manipulated, but strong enough to hold, and both sides have been well finished enough to not rub.

Creating a belt is simple enough, though it does take fifteen steps. The leather gets tail punched, creased, beveled, and then dyed. The buckles he uses (which are made through a wax casting method) are then attached by handstitching the end of the belt. Finally, the edges are burnished and the final product is polished and stamped before being sent off to the customer. Marcus’ belts are just as nicely made as those that I’ve bought from Equus (another fine maker of bridle leather belts), and both seem better than the one I’ve bought from Narragansett. The stitching at the end, for example, is done much more cleanly on my Wiley Brothers belt than my Narragansett.

One can find Marcus’ products at any number of places. He happens to make belts for companies such as Ledbury, J. Press, Sid Mashburn, and JL Powell. Kind of surprising given that he’s a one-man shop (though I hear he recently just got in an apprentice). You can also order directly from him through his website. Mine is the “traditional” model made from a richly colored Havana brown. It’s very well made, but also very simple looking, which over the years is exactly the kind of belt I’ve found I reach for the most. 

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