It's certainly no secret that we Italians live to dress, and our contributions to the canon of classic menswear
have indeed been great. As an Italian who grew up in Boston, a deep understanding of the tenets of traditional American style operates in tandem with this. But it would all be for naught if it weren't for the English.
Thankfully, I live in a place that gets cold enough to really bring the English style out in full force. If we want to get all crazy and picky about it, we could talk about how these are "country clothes", suitable for weekends at the estate, strolling with the hounds and shooting ducks. But truthfully, I could live my life in a t-shirt and shorts and no one but me would notice, so who cares about that? Damned if this stuff doesn't keep you warm of a chilly night.
You may remember
this jacket, acquired in February. It's about as English as they come. I could gush about the fabric, but I already did, just read the link. I know this looks like a sports jacket, but it's really a short coat. It's so heavy, I should probably hang it in the front closet with the Barbour and the toggle coats, rather that with the suits and jackets. It's so heavy, in fact, that I only wore it twice last Winter. Too thick for indoor use, it's best used as outerwear. The shirt is old Brooks Brothers, likely early 90s, with the elusive perfect collar roll. A thoroughly American convention, thoroughly heisted from the Brits. The tie is old Brooks Brothers, 1960s is my guess. Both, though American made, are right at home with this piece of duck hunting gear.
In keeping with the idea of shooting water fowl, a corduroy cap with embroidered pheasants by Barbour is a cinch.
And because I'm a garish Yankee with no right to even dress like a monied Yankee of English descent, I'll just go ahead and take things a little too far with a fox hunting themed belt.
Garish as I can be, I don't normally go for the open working cuff button, but in this case, how can one resist? Seriously, that cloth...
Another corduroy, in a narrower wale, for the trews. Something about multiple corduroy statements has got Brit written all over it. Argyle socks hail originally from Scotland, though mine are from Target. I don't get to wear these vintage English made Clark's in loden green suede often enough, but clearly nothing else would do here.
I really meant that last post to hold you over until after the
Top Shelf Flea, but I had so much fun putting this one together, I simply couldn't help but share.
The moral of the story is: when the leaves turn and the chill wind blows, if in doubt, go British.
