If you're looking for fabrics that you can wear in the summer, it's useful to consider three things: weight, weave, and fiber. If you only pay attention to one of these dimensions (say, linen), you will miss the bigger picture.
If you're shopping for shirts, then some of the better summer materials include linen, seersucker, madras, and very lightweight, open weave cottons. In the photo below, you can see a swatch of voile, which is a featherweight 2/3oz cotton that's so open, it's almost sheer.
You can see here why most men don't wear it. Without a jacket, the material can almost be indecent (although it's more forgiving in non-white colors like light blue). For this reason, some tailors double up the front, like you see on the right, but this limits the breathability.
That said, certain cottons like voile and madras can be nice in the summertime because their featherweight, open weave structure allows the skin to breathe. Linen also wicks moisture from the skin, keeping you feeling cooler and drier throughout the day.
But this same logic does not apply to jackets and pants. For example, take these two fabric books. On the left, we have 12/13 oz plain weave linen from W. Bill (my favorite book for linen suitings). On the right, we have 9/10 oz cotton twill from Scabal.
I love linen suits. Their tendency to hold wrinkles telegraphs a kind of insouciance that I think is key to good summer style. But there are good and bad wrinkles. W. Bill's Irish linen is stiffer and heavier than its Italian counterparts, so it rumples more than it wrinkles.
But does it necessarily wear cool? Not really. Remember that linen is unique in how it wicks moisture from your skin. You can test this by washing a pure linen shirt and a cotton linen shirt, then letting both hang dry. The linen will dry faster.
This is not really relevant for suits and sport coats because you don't wear jackets next to your skin. The heavier fabric may also feel very warm on a hot day.
OK, then let's go with a lighter fabric — something between shirt fabric and that W. Bill linen.
Like that 9/10 oz cotton twill. Unfortunately, since cotton and linen don't have the natural crimp found in animal hair, they are more prone to holding wrinkles. A pair of pants made from 9/10 oz cotton will look like crumpled tissue paper after a few hours.
Plus, plain weaves are more tightly woven than some of their plain weave counterparts. So now you have a fabric that looks like crumpled tissue paper, but also won't breathe. This is despite everyone online telling you that materials like linen and cotton are best for summer.
Let's instead look at these 9/10oz tropical wools. These open weave fabrics are made from yarns that have been given an extra twist during the spinning stage, which makes them very resilient and naturally wrinkle resistant. The open weave is super porous and breathable.
If you make a jacket or pair of pants from these materials, using minimal structure and lining, then the garment will be cooler and more breathable than the linen or cotton options above. Don't worry: the open weave will not show your skin underneath.
Fabric weight, weave, and fiber are not the only considerations. There's also color. You may have heard that dark colors like black wear warmer than white because they absorb more light, converting that energy into heat.
But for centuries, people such as the Bedouin and Tuareg across North Africa and the Middle East have worn dark colors, including multiple layers wrapped around the body and face. They stay cool because the garments are loose fitting, allowing air to circulate.
In this way, we can see there are a few elements that contribute to whether a garment wears cool:
1. Fabric weight, weave, and fiber 2. Structural elements, such as canvassing, padding, and lining 3. Whether the garment fits slim or loose
IMO, when considering a garment, it's best not to reduce things to simple "rules" like "linen is the best fabric for summer." Rather, take a holistic, nuanced view, much like how you learn how to write a sentence or cook a dish. There's no "best word" or "best ingredient."
Everything is contextual. First consider the aesthetic that inspires you. Then think about what you want to say through your clothes (a very wrinkly linen shirt may look great on weekends, but not in a courtroom). Next consider how garments are made.
When you take this holistic view, you can build a stylish summer wardrobe but also feel reasonably comfortable.
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As a general matter, my advice isn't really "go to this store" or "buy this brand." Rather, I encourage people to think about clothes in a certain way.
My advice isn't really about brands or stores because everyone has unique fit challenges they have to solve. Perhaps you have forward pitched shoulders or a barrel chest. Or maybe you have big thighs and a prominent seat. No single suit will work for everyone.
When shopping for a suit, it helps to know how they're made. Suit jackets and sport coats are unique in that they're made from layers of haircloth, canvas, and padding, which are shaped through darts, pad stitching, and ironwork. This is how you get the 3D shape.
A lot of attention is paid to craft traditions in Western Europe and North America, such as handsewn Hermes leather goods and bespoke Savile Row suits. But the uneven focus leads some to believe that things made outside of these places are low quality.
This is not true. 🧵
When I was on a menswear forum, there was a guy whose style I greatly admired. Like others on the forum, Niyi Okuboyejo loved men's tailoring. He had a technical understanding of how a jacket should hang from the shoulders. He also knew how to put things together in a classic way
At the same time, he also knew how to do things in his own voice and style, but in a way that looked good and not haphazard. Sometimes this was about adding a funky tie; other times, it was playing with materials and silhouette. All of these are still suits and sport coats!
I think "fun socks" should be used judiciously, as a lot of what's worn today feels more childish than whimsical. IMO, most men should avoid them entirely.
But if you insist on wearing them, here are some suggestions on how to make them look less bad. 🧵
Any time this topic comes up, people invariably bring up George HW Bush, who was known to wear fun socks later in life. While I wasn't a fan of those socks, I agree that Bush was well-dressed. I also think when you reach a certain age, you have license to wear whatever you want
There are a few reasons why most outfits look bad with these sorts of socks. First, most men are not at that senior age where these socks become charming.
Second, most of these socks look like something you acquire by sending in a proof-of-purchase from a cereal box.
Most people think of black tie as the most formal kind of menswear, but technically speaking, it's semi-formal evening attire. Historically, men wore this kind of outfit to dinner or evening shows, such as going to the opera or ballet. Or celebrations such as NYE parties.
White tie is true formalwear. It differs from black tie primarily in how it requires a long tailcoat (black tie originated when men cut the tails off their coats to create a more casual garment for dinner). Also requires a white waistcoat, white tie, and wing collar.
If you're interested in bespoke tailoring and based in the United States, I have some trunk show announcements to share with you. Since Twitter recently changed their formatting options, I will be doing this as a thread. 🧵
Matthew Gonzalez
There's a long history of cross-border influence and immigration in tailoring, but as far as I know, Matthew Gonzalez is the first American to operate under his own banner on Savile Row. Born and raised in Southern California, he moved to London about twenty years ago to pursue a degree in bespoke tailoring from the London College of Fashion. Thereafter, he climbed the ranks — moving from undercutter at Thom Sweeney to cutter at Dunhill and eventually Huntsman, where he achieved his longtime goal of cutting on Savile Row.
Today, he runs his own firm, where he merges his California sensibility with his training in British bespoke craftsmanship. He recently told me he admires a photo of JFK staring out of a window. The President dressed in a dark worsted suit, white button-up shirt, and dark silk necktie, but everything about the photo looks very casual and relaxed. This, he told me, is what American style means to him.
Gonzalez cuts suits and sport coats inspired by that mid-century American tailoring, although he's adamant about not wanting the clothes to look like historical costumes. Thus, while the jackets have a soft, natural shoulder line, he sticks with front darts and prefers side vents (rather than the dartless front and hook vent characteristic of Ivy Style). The lapels have a moderate width and minimal belly (the curve sometimes distinguishing an older style of British tailoring). The garments are designed so they can be teamed with a dress shirt and tie, or something more casual such as a chambray button-up.
Given Gonzalez's penchant for slightly more relaxed, casual attire, it's no surprise that he also offers made-to-measure suede jackets, wool-cashmere shawl collar cardigans, and denim Western shirts (made without the contrast stitching, so they look more at home with tailoring). He's also one of the few bespoke tailors I've met who "gets it" when it comes to the polo coat, arguably the most iconic of American overcoat styles. Gonzalez tells me he thinks a polo coat should have letter box patch pockets, a half belt, gauntlet cuffs, an inverted back pleat, and a center button vent. But crucially, he also thinks the split-sleeves should be made with a lapped seam. To my eye, this makes the garment more casual and sporty—truer to its original roots—and allows the tailor to shape the sleevehead.
Consider Gonzalez if you share the same sensibilities: a love for classic American tailoring, but a suspicion of styles that are too anachronistic, and a bias towards clothes that feel more relaxed and casual. The point about Gonzalez using a split-sleeve with a lapped seam demonstrates that he takes care of details that may not occur to a client, but will be appreciated years down the road.
Taillour
In bespoke tailoring, there's a generally accepted rule that most clients would do well to observe: choose a company based on their house style and stay close to it. The term "house style" refers to the tailor's established methods, which combine to create clothes with a distinguishable fit and feel. Just as you wouldn't order burritos from a ramen chef, you shouldn't ask an English tailor for an Italian jacket (or vice versa).
Taillour is one of the few exceptions. Co-founder and head cutter Fred Nieddu has worked in the bespoke tailoring industry for decades, cutting for firms such as Thom Sweeney and even teaching pattern drafting courses at the London College of Fashion. A good percentage of his current workload involves making clothes for films and TV shows. In fact, you may have seen his creations. He made all the menswear for the Netflix series The Crown, the suits in the film The Phoenician Scheme, and one of the colorful costumes for Wonka. Given this experience, he's more flexible than most tailors regarding what he's willing and able to make.
Still, I think it's always a good idea to stay close to the house style. I think of Taillour's house style as very soft but architectural in its lines. Nieddu uses a full body canvas and only a bit of laptair near the wearer's collar bone to prevent the jacket from sinking. The shoulders are minimally padded, giving the garments a very light feel. While Neapolitan tailors are known for a similar construction, Taillour's jackets have a bit more room and shape. The shoulder line is very straight, and the chest is slightly full. When combined with those characteristically straight lapels and larger jacket collar, I find Taillour's jackets have an angular appearance reminiscent of Apparel Arts drawings.
Consider Nieddu if you want a tailor who's a bit more flexible in terms of what they're willing to make (although, again, I recommend tweaking at the margins, not bringing in a photo of something and asking for it to be copied). He has also made clothes for women, which will be useful if you're looking for someone who can make a women's suit, sport coat, or overcoat.
Summer is around the corner and soon you'll read a bunch of tweets about how every man should have a pair of loafers.
I don't think anyone needs anything, but if you're shopping for a pair, let me show you how to think about loafers. This applies to any wardrobe item. 🧵
When it comes to choosing loafers, a simple answer will go something like this: "Such-and-such brand makes the best pairs." Or "Here's a hierarchy of loafers." IMO, such approaches are reductive and often devolve into trend or status pursuits.
Let me show you another approach.
As always, it's helpful to start at the beginning.
There are a few origin stories for loafers, but most lead back to Norway. If menswear lore is to be believed, then the penny loafer comes from a simple slip-on shoe known as the teser, which was once worn by Norwegian peasants.