A blog dedicated to the interesting, scandalous, useful and cutting edge in the world of men’s style, fashion and grooming.
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Kate Moss has led a colorful life, to be sure, even by supermodel standards. Once she even took time out from all the drinking and drugging to get treatment for sex addiction. But out of all the men in her life, the one snog that still gives her goosebumps just to think about came courtesy of Frank Sinatra—who was an octogenarian at the time.
Our friends at UrbanDaddy put us onto this late 60s picture of Miles Davis—currently on sale in limited edition at New York’s Morrison Hotel Gallery—and it made us reconsider the man as an unlikely style icon.
For one, those sunglasses were custom-made, and should look familiar to anyone who’s walked around Los Angeles in the last few summers. (Then again, you probably mostly saw them on women.) Even if the afro-futurist look hasn’t caught on outside of a few Atlanta natives, Davis’ ideas about style deserve a lot more attention than they get.
Two years after the great James Brown’s passing, Christie’s is selling off the Godfather of Soul’s most prized possessions this Thursday in an auction featuring everything from his multiple music awards, well-worn hi-fi, and metallic green vinyl sofa to childhood mementos and photographs.
The big ticket items are his custom electric organ and baby grand piano at est. $20,000 - $30,000 and $15,000 - $20,000 respectively, along with dozens of jumpsuits in denim, polyester and other flammable fabrics (and all the colors of the puke rainbow) in the $5,000 - $7,000 range.
However we were entranced by a couple of the collections Big Brown amassed, including the keys to 11 cities he was presented with over the years (est. $2,000 - $3,000), and especially this assemblage of 83 pairs of shades he wore during countless concerts and debauchs - a steal at only $1,000 - $1,500. If only they could talk…
Politicians are notoriously bad dressers—that’s a government salary for you—but if you’re enough of an icon, it doesn’t take much effort to become a style icon too.
After all, it’s called Kennedy chic for a reason.
The first contender to embrace the slim generation of suits (while his opponent is giving off slightly different signals), it’s no surprise that Obama’s a favorite for the GQ and Esquire crowd. Unlike the rest of the C-SPAN fodder, Barack manages to make suits look good. (Not so hard, really—but like we said, it’s a low bar.)
The style arbiters at the New York Times’ T Magazine have revealed what was behind the artful dishevelment of recently deceased pundit William F. Buckley Jr.: dressing up was simply beneath him.
Buckley adopted the blueblood uniform of The Millbrook School, the sort of upper crusty institution where the preppy look was born back in the day, they write, and never grew out of it.
This past week saw the exit of one of our personal, favorite style icons. The storied New Zealand adventurer Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to summit Mt. Everest, champion of the Nepalese people and Knight of the Most Nobel Order of the Garter, died at the respectable age of 88.
A new must-see exhibit for any serious sartorial scholar just opened in Rome celebrating the lush life and times of the late, great Fiat chairman Gianni Agnelli, one of the most stylish men who ever walked the Earth. Titled “Gianni Agnelli: An Extraordinary Life,” it features over 250 photos, some of them never seen before, plus rare film footage and a documentary. It’s at the Vittoriano Complex until the 30th, after which it travels to Turin and Milan.
Duke Ellington dubbed him the “Maharajah of the Keyboard” and Count Basie said he played “the best ivory box I’ve ever heard,” while Ray Charles simply called him “one motherfucking piano player!” Oscar Peterson, one of the all-time jazz greats, died at the age of 82 over the holidays, and we here at Kempt can’t help but be saddened by the passing of man who provided the soundtrack to some of our most memorable moments.
Even with his slicked-back hair, brown turtlenecks, polyester everything, devil’s ‘stache and—uh—man jewelery, Goulet somehow seemed above it all—classy and confident no matter what (a lesson we could all learn.) Through his forty years of service as the self-effacing epitome of the velvet-lapelled cabaret singer, Goulet made the world his lounge.
For a proper obit, visit the New York Times
For an even greater tribute, slink on over to YouTube
—G.B.
