A Bauhaus design from the 1920s. The shoe rack lets your leather soles breathe. Read more …
Probably the best polishing brushes in the world. Hand made of yak hair in Germany. Read more …
As a lad I lugged bales of straw, fed horses and mucked out cows. I don’t know if that explains my fondness for tweed. It is the cloth of choice for the farmer inasmuch that most of today’s farmers will chuck on Kansas work wear if they are dressing up and t-shirt, jeans and clogs if they follow the crowd.
Anyway, enough of the psychological musings. I am fond of tweed (jackets) and have over the years mulled over how to combine the use of it with other garments.
This chap here points the way. He mixes the brown jacket with brown trousers (harmony) but notice the two very different hues (contrast). All too often you see men in a tweed ensemble or other dress wear with a separate jacket, where the colours of the trousers and the jacket are too closely matched.
Furthermore: both cloths, whether jacket or trousers, are heavyweight (harmony). The tweed jacket is tweed and the trousers a robust cavalry twill. It is seldom successful if you do not match the jacket with trousers made from cloth of similar weight.
Meanwhile the wool, threads and weave are different (contrast). The tweed jacket has a rough surface and the trousers are comparatively smooth and resemble the cavalry twill’s distinctive large diagonal pattern.
Then we have the yellow waistcoat. It is a contrast and yet it isn’t a complete anomaly to the brown hue. The same goes for the red silk kerchief. It sets itself apart, yet respects the company it’s keeping. The handkerchief is behaving in a similar vein, singing from its own hymn sheet, yet in tune with the other items of clothing.
A stylish farmer.
On Nørrebro, Copenhagen, through a back yard and all the way up on the fourth floor in a lovely old factory you will find the very last hatter. Or, at the very least, one of very few left. His name is Stig Andersen. I met him last summer and wrote about him for the Børsen, Denmark’s leading financial newspaper.
Stig Andersen starts a hat with a piece of natural felt – from China, “they do actually make the best”, which he tars and dries out. He then wets the felt and drapes it over a mould. After that the mould and felt goes into a drying oven and after that the hat can be taken off the mould, brushed and dressed.
Stig Andersen has countless hat and visor moulds to hand, most of them decades old, originating from the time his father ran Andersen & Berner, as the company is still called to this day. It was founded in 1946.
I think Stig Andersen can bring any design in felt to life. He has created some surprising and kooky felted hats designs for Soulland and Stine Goya, a couple of today’s happening design companies. Several of these were stacked on tables and chairs as I popped in. Otherwise Stig Andersen designs for theatre and film productions and he has several overseas clients.
I too am toying with the idea of collaboration with Stig Andersen. I have a particular piece of head wear in my mind, something that would suit him right down to the ground. Hopefully I will find the time to do this.
Photo: The Journal of Style
Narrow trousers, which are on the short side, are not a new invention. Neither are cardigans. We have seen skinny ties before. And the desert boots, they too have their place in history.
Recently I flicked through some back issues of the defunct French magazine ‘Adam’. They were curiously up-to-date even 50 years later. I think almost every suggestion ‘Adam’ made would appeal to the fashionable man of today.
Fashion may be new by definition but is in many cases a repetition of the past.
Photo: Adam/The Journal of Style