The other side of the coin

Here at Bloke, we examine quite a few instances of the bleeding in fashion between men and women, typically with the reoccurring theme being how designers attempt to expand the masculine market into the feminine, what with skirts, skorts, one legged pants, meggings, man up, etc etc, and how, more often than not, they fail to reach any kind of happy middle ground between design, history, and how uncomfortable guys can be in clothing they don't/others don't understand, let alone change the deeply cemented norms of the male wardrobe. Today however, we're going to look at one success, that while existing in almost a total vacuum of information, allows us to consider a few angles for the Blokeish look.

Because sometimes the best dressed man, is a lady.

The amazing and always enjoyable Sartorialist, never without his camera, snapped this shot in Istanbul and posted it on his blog a few days ago.

Contrary to popular belief, Istanbul and many other parts of the Western Middle East are far less intolerant and oppressive when ti comes to gender and sex, a point that should be self evident by the above. Here's a girl who knows how to pull of a man-fit better than most guys. Hair-bands and bracelets aside, the combination-suit jacket, cappuccino shirt, matching plaid tie and sports jacket, with simple unmarred jeans, should be a basic look available and achievable to and by most dudes. The rolled up arms, rolled up shirt over the arms, loose hanging tie-knot and brilliant gold/silver mens' watch add the perfect touch fo flare and accessory, that once again could easily be copied by any guy, without the 'danger' of feminizing into the discomfort zone.

Fellas, take note!

Off the top of my head

(Feeling slightly better, not yet recovered, forgive any lapses in sense or style)

While the cold winter's air will drive many a fella to the warm embrace of a toque (or knitted beanie, for my non-Canuckleheaded audience), I've never been partial to them unless the temperature's dipped well below the fashionable limit, and a question of survival arises over style. A head condom, for lack of a better term, is called so for a good reason, and in my most humble of opinions the less we speak of it, the better.

(In fact, the toque is one of the few staples of dude-dom that is better served by a feminine touch; for every guy-gourd shoved unceremoniously in a knit skull-cap, making him look somewhat tick-like in appearance, the falling locks of a lady, blooming out from under or cascading down the shoulders, allows for the kind of visual contrast such a simple hat requires to really succeed as a fashionable item.)

The classic newsboy does have a retro-work-a-day charm, but be careful what outfits you match it with. A suit and tie must be colour checked to fit the generally earthy tones associated with the cap, the obvious exception being the black cap, which while going well with more looks, can be easily confused for the "classic" look of the private driver, and you may find yourself holding a great many doors.

For the man interested in a challenge this winter though, I suggest a pork pie (that is, if you haven't already settled on the always-charming fedora). A look that's suffered its fair share of ridicule over the years due to being characterized as somewhere between frumpy and ill-mannered, the pork pie, and its many variances, is a topper that demands confidence to be worn, but rewards its wearer many times over in individual look and charm. I for one have never seen two such hats worn in the same place, just as I've never seen someone wearing such a cap without a date on their arm.

But what of the more adventurous male? The kind of Trapper John who wears what he catches? The fur hat has typically been a staple of the Northern countries, hovering between real world practicality and PETA-rage inducing fur-lined flare (for the fun of it). While I wouldn't suggest going as far as the coon skin hat, the beaver pelt top, or overly-ridiculous coyote-fur (at a fetching $299), the classic Russian-inspired looks carry a cold determination to persists through the winter months, while looking ready to take in the Bolshoi with a Balkan beauty.

As per my post-sickness malaise, all looks mentioned in this and the previous article can be found at Hats.com, or your local 'chapaud'. Other great sites at a quickie are Mens' Hats, Fur Hat World and the always quality Biltmore Hats of Canada.

Pour Le Tet, not offensive

I should be very straight forward about this before we begin.

I hate hats.

I love hats.

As a dude of at least mentionable style (and notable ego) my hair is of great worth and concern to me. Not in the mad sense that if one were to dare touch it or shave it, I would wreak my vengeance upon them. Rather, should I suddenly go bald by the age of 30, like a good friend of mine, there's a good chance that 60 years from now, should we not have to fight the rise of the machines or some equal struggle, I would still consider it my life's great tragedy.

As such, a hat is typically a thing that gets in the way of my be-product'd hair, crushing my coif against my scalp, only to reveal the mess it left behind, rather than a properly protected do. The Ball cap (or the Baller, as one associate once called them) is as prevalent in modern mens' fashion as the blue jean, but has, in my opinion, never risen above its sartorial station, despite some rising to prices rivaling some rather nice jackets. Flat rimmed, off-side, beat-to-shit, it really doesn't matter. These hats were never meant to go with a smart suit, lest that suit were ticked out with otherwise obnoxious glitz.

But, as a resident of the Great White North (albeit the more tropical-at-times portion), I do understand the importance, and sometimes absolute necessity, to pop on a top. What's more, prior to it being made the play-thing of an ornery feline, I preferred to be seen wearing a simple black wool fedora, cock'd at a classic Bogie angle.

So, what's workable to wear for the well-made man? Of course the above noted fedora is a go-to must for any guy with an interest in how they look. Despite a reputation ruined by the decades between now and their heyday, memories of that one awkward geek in high school who always wore one, and the (ever) encroaching world of women's fashion conquering yet another aspect of mens' style, this hairdo-defending high-headed hat persists, available at any respectable mens' store for a very pretty penny, or for the brave and the bold (and cheap) the plethora of women's styles offer a price-conscious cheat, usually offering a flat-black or pinstripe without much of a distracting (or defaming) feminine touch. Sadly, the days of the professionally fitted hat are long gone, unless you've more money than I.

(I'm inclined to stop here for today, as I'm feeling sickly and scattered. Will return with part 2: The Hairy Side of Headwear)

Garish but gold

Today we hop on over to Sneaker Freaker to drool over the kind of ridiculous shoes-for-dudes that you'd sooner frame above a mantle than wear out-and-about.

Behold, Pierre Hardy's POWERAMA, a fantastic homage to to work of famed and acclaimed artist Roy Lichtenstein.

I'm a massive fan of Lichtenstein's work throughout the 60's, and while I am impressed and interested in this shoe-I'd-never-wear (fair comment, most of the site is a bit on the gaudier side then what we usually deal with here, but fine art bre

aks down all walls) I'd gladly pay double (eep!) if they read WHAM! rather than POW!

But at 500 pairs worldwide, and none available in Canada, that's just the semantics of artistic taste.

Better red than dead

Yes, you know what I'm talking about. You may never have owned a pair, much less have found any that fit (my category, right there), but you've certainly seen the twiggier fellas strolling around with crimson legs if you live in, around or near a city with any kind of indie, trendy or hipster scene.

The bright red trousers.

Or rather, Fucking Red Trousers.

Yes, thanks to the hard work of a fellow blogster, the world can now know the full extent and power of these so-vibrant-they-loop-around-the-masculine-line-and-back-over-again. Look... features offers up dozens of candid and other-such shots of the rouge inspired pants, and their shaded cousins, for the perusing and pondering.

Go check out their near-comprehensive list and see

for yourself the looks highs and (many, many) lows.

...Andy?

American Dream

This, ladies and gentlemen, is how you wear a suit.

Jay Gatsby, Gilded God

That of course is Leo from the upcoming Great Gatsby adaptation, directed by the always costume and style aware Baz Luhrman. His second to last film, Moulin Rouge, still affects my sartorial choices almost daily, and had of course a massive impact on women's fashion.

I'm excited for the reaction the world of common style could have to this as well. Victorian and Edwardian styles had power and potential, but had by the end of the Great war era been reduced to drabs and dregs for the war effort. The Jeeves and Wooster era costumes, bright, playful, stylish and smart, were a breath of fresh air in the attitudes of Europe and the Americas after a disastrous 4 years and Imperial morality. These clothing were as much an attitude themselves, a rebellion against stuffy Victorianism, just as powerful for men as the flapper dress and bob would prove to be for women. The style typified in the Great Gatsby were the first that could be honestly called 20th century, modern, and have stayed contemporary to one degree or another ever since.

Monday morning "whaaa?"

There's something to be said about how subjective this work is. Of course, fashion is just another word for trending (or rather, the other way around) and what's trending is typically up to a few clouty (or should I say Klout-y?) individuals who use their expertise in media and marketing to make us pay more attention to this over that.

It's all very elementary, I know.

But sometimes, you need to be reminded that in the end, this is all subjective, and when "the best" comes along, it's 'best' to remember what Penn and Teller had to say; the best, is bullshit.

This week, the magazine that I work for (whose articles are behind a pay wall, so sorry, no linkies) ran a counter-comment to the Boston Globes Best Dressed Bostonians list. Why would we do this, living a few hundred miles away and in another country? Because of a man named Brad Marchand, who would otherwise never be seen in the style pages if not for the Globe's choice of flare.

Brad is a local boy, from a part of the city just down the road called Hammond's Plains. He grew up, made good on the Canadian dream, and now plays hockey for the Bruins down south. Here we call him the Whizzer, due much in part to his habit of getting drunk in public and looking ridiculous in the resulting photos (many of which show him NOT wearing various articles of clothes, far from the best dressed at the party).

Brad, fashion icon

Regardless, someone at the Globe took a good look, and said "yes, that makes sense, put him down for an award, I like his look". Then they filled it out with a few photos in which he's wearing a shirt and seemingly stable.

Just a nice little reminder to never take fashion, or the fashionistas, at face value. Take a look behind the curtain at what's sitting around the floor of the change closet before assuming that we (collectively) know what we're talking about.