The Search for Style: For the Older Man 'Dressing Well is a Matter of Pride'

Here's an interesting e-mail from a blog reader in which (among other topics) he equates style with a sense of pride

"Hi David. I am responding to your request for accounts of personal style. I live in the USA. I'm 62 years old. Your blog, along with Die, Workwear, and Permanent Style, are my favorites.

"But there is pleasure in wearing nice clothes, even delight"

There seem to be similarities between us. I am a lawyer, now retired. I spent much of my career as a public defender and my speciality was criminal appeals. I love the outdoors (last year I walked across Scotland, 134 miles on the John Muir Way). I love cars, especially old cars. (In the baby book, kept by my mom, it says my first word was "car.") In my garage is a 1973 BMW 2002, bought new by my father, and owned by me for the last 40 years. It is a beautiful machine, and, as much as possible, I have kept it like it was on the showroom floor. I love old British cars, and recently sold a 1972 Harvest Gold MGB I'd brought back from the dead in the early 90s.

MGB GT (stock image)

I sold it so that I could clear space for some other MG, a BGT with a chrome grill and wire wheels, an MGA, or a TC. I already have the wardrobe for the TC, except for the goggles. And I love clothes and shoes and hats.  

"Women you don't even know will start conversations with you"

My search for style began when I was about 30, when I realized I'd like to be a judge. I knew I'd have to dress better to be taken seriously. I found that I enjoyed buying and wearing nice clothes. I came to this honestly, I suppose; my father, grandfather, and several great uncles wore natty and elegant clothes. At first, my style was more Italian, but there was a sea change in 1997 on a visit to London. A lovely older man that helped me pick a fedora at Lock remarked, "I don't know if you're interested in bespoke, but there's a fine tailor on Sackville Street." He named Meyer and Mortimer.

Meyer & Mortimer, Sackville Street, London

This was like striking a match near tinder. I went over, met Mr Brian Lewis, pored through books and books of cloth, and chose a green tweed with red windowpane for a jacket. I paid the princely sum of $1100 far more than I'd ever spent on any piece of clothing. But twenty years on I still wear that jacket, showing that things can only be valued from a distance of years. 

"The search [for clothes and shoes] is endlessly fascinating, especially in the treasure trove that is London"

After that experience I was hooked. Most years I return to London in the late fall, and work on a new commission. Mr Lewis and the other nice people at Meyer and Mortimer have become friends. I know it's not customary for customers and tailors to become friends - that master-servant thing - but I'm American and I don't care, so there are hugs all around when I arrive and when I leave. My commissions are usually three button tweed or wool jackets with side vents and three patch pockets. We always laugh about it because I say this year I'll get a different design, but I never do. In my defense, I will say that for my next commission I'm thinking about an overcoat.

"On these visits I pound the pavement in London and Edinburgh looking for clothes and shoes. The search is endlessly fascinating, especially in the treasure trove that is London"

Along the way I've learned my style. Some years ago I bought a beautiful pair of signal orange moleskin trousers. But they are worn maybe once a year, if that. I will wear heavy dark olive English cords a hundred times to every time I wear the crazy Italian moleskin trousers. I tend to wear eight-panel caps, oxford cloth shirts, wool jackets, wool knit ties. Wool overcoats, tweed overcoats. In the winter, heavy tweed trousers, turn ups. I have a weakness for suede shoes and monk shoes. Sweaters, too many sweaters! This fall, before my trip, I gave away two sweaters, then bought three, great Irish fisherman's sweaters, Scottish sweaters. When you hear Santa Fe, you might think it is too warm for all of these things, but we are in the mountains, not far from Colorado, we have four seasons, and it

gets cold in the winter here.

"Most men don't dress, either because they don't know enough about it, or maybe because they're afraid they'll be seen as effete"

Why do I dress, why do I care about it? I'm retired. I don't have to dress well. But there is pleasure in wearing nice clothes, even delight. Either I wear my clothes or the moths will eat them. So what if I'm overdressed, showing up at lunch in a jacket and tie? My friends don't even blink. I am a one-man crusader for looking a little nicer. I don't lecture about it; I just do it because I like it. Most men don't dress, either because they don't know enough about it, or maybe because they're afraid they'll be seen as effete.

Dressing well is a matter of pride, makes the world around you better, makes your step lighter. It might even be more important as we get older. When you see an elderly man well dressed it makes you happy, appreciative. Who doesn't want to talk to someone like that? Women you don't even know will start conversations with you. (It happened just this week, when a woman commented on my houndstooth jacket, and wanted me to turn around so she could see the fit. Hilarious and wonderful. For that moment, at least, I was not invisible.) And my clothes are practical. My wool jackets are comfortable, warm, have lots of pockets for stuff. My tweed trousers are warm, far more comfortable than a pair of stiff, cold jeans. My caps are warm and don't blow off in the wind.

"You, along with others, make me realize that it is okay to enjoy clothes"

I was born old, I think. I'm old school, old fashioned, I like old things. When I turned 60 I promised myself a fine watch. I thought I'd buy an expensive new watch, but instead I ended up buying a 1957 Vacheron Constantin in perfect condition. That is me in a nutshell. I prefer it to any new watch.

You, along with others, make me realize that it is okay to enjoy clothes. Thank you. In the meantime, keep up your good work. Watch for me in London, usually just after Halloween. My cap will be at a jaunty angle, my jacket tweed, and it may appear that my monk shoes are barely touching the ground."