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A blog dedicated to the interesting, scandalous, useful and cutting edge in the world of men’s style, fashion and grooming.
Swashbuckling photographer Peter Beard’s work isn’t getting any cheaper—quite the opposite in fact—but we consider it fairly recession proof as these things go. We recently told you about the re-release of his classic 1965 book on Africa, The End of the Game. Then we reported on his shoot in Botswana for the 2009 Pirelli Calendar featuring naked supermodels and an elephant named Cathy.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve expounded before on the extreme appeal of La Perla lingerie, which while eschewing the erotic theatrics of Agent Provocateur nonetheless manages to push all the right buttons. Their underthings, such as the flapper-esque concoction shown here snapped by our fearless lensman at a recent display of La Perla wares in NYC, seem calculated to appeal to sex-starved socialites and other such admirable creatures.
We were not aware however that the company also made the alarmingly snug swim trunks Daniel Craig sported in his debut as James Bond. Apparently he has refused to ever put them on again. Wise choice, old boy; some things are just not meant to have crossover appeal.
Brit music and style icon Bryan Ferry, one of the world’s best-dressed men, wants to try his hand at designing clothes—and why the hell not? Surely being such a lifelong sartorial savant qualifies him more than most. As the man himself tells the London Times, “If P. Diddy can do it, why can’t I?” A private label is “something I would really like to do,” Ferry says, noting, “I should have done it years ago.”
After all, last year’s Burberry men’s collection was basically an homage to the Roxy Music frontman’s signature haute-lounge lizard look, and he did once collaborate on a collection for Brit retailer Topman. So what would a Bryan Ferry collection look like? Well, he’s partial to bespoke dress shirts from Dunhill these days and suits from Richard Anderson of Savile Row, so that might give you an idea.
We say one can never get enough of Czech supermodel and card-carrying Kemptress Eva Herzigova, so we welcome the latest installment in Karl Lagerfeld’s episodic ad campaign for Dom Pérignon’s 1996 Rosé Vintage champagne.
Especially as it requires Eva to lounge around in a luxury hotel room in her lingerie, getting soused on pink bubbly. In the Kaiser’s scenario, she check’s into the hotel and finds a handsome fellow rooming down the hall who apparently shares her obsession with Dom. A few establishing shots later, they’re getting it on but manage to never spill a drop. Trust us, that isn’t how it happened in real life.
Here we have the latest convert to the cult of Tom Ford, - the fellow affectionately known the world over as “Becks”. Mr. Beckham obviously did some research into what the well-dressed MOTH is wearing, and wisely opted to adorn himself likewise. At a fragrance launch the other day he sported a three-piece, single-breasted, peak lapel sand and ochre stripe, silk and wool homespun check “Buckingham” model suit with a ticket pocket, white shirt, brown silk tie and brown calfskin wingtips all from Mr. Ford’s atelier.
Judging by the response to our Mod World post the other day, a lot of you are ready to re-immerse yourselves in a simpler time of army parkas, Pete Townshend riffs and the occasional rumble. Starting with a scooter, as we suggested, is a good idea for absolute beginners, but of course not just any old moped will do.
Enter Royal College of Art grad Grahame Fowler and his firm GGF Restoration, which repurposes the best classic scooters of yore for road-readiness in this post-Mod world. Haute catalog co. Vivre is now stocking a selection of Fowler’s limited edition 1966 - 1968 Lambrettas, restored from the ground up, in a choice of two-tones. Of course at $25,000 a pop, you’re paying a premium for perfection, but then again that’s usually the case.
When we first heard that Harry Potter menace Daniel Radcliffe was appearing in a new Broadway play which required him to get naked and fondle horses, we resolved to steer clear of the Theater District for the duration—that is, after the box office corrected our misapprehension that Radcliffe girls were getting naked. Apparently however it appears that a D. Radcliffe au naturel is infinitely preferable to one allowed to dress himself, as he showed at the Equus premiere the other night with this regrettable blue tuxedo.
Last year we told you about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to acquire a world-class collection of rare Scotch whiskies at a landmark Christie’s sale. Now you can get the whole shebang in one bottle. It’s no ordinary fifth of hooch however; called The Last Drop, it carries a $2,000 pricetag and there’s an extremely limited supply.
70 different malt whiskies and 12 different grain whiskies, most from distilleries no longer extant and all at least 48 years old (i.e. pre-1960), go into this uber-blend bottled at cask strength. Of course with something like this you may want to lock it away in the cellar for some extremely important occasion, so the makers have thoughtfully included a miniature bottle gratis so you can sample the goods without breaking into the principal. And if you can stop there you’re a better man than I.
A while back we told you about Mick Jagger’s daughter Georgia, the latest in a line of rock star offspring to try her hand at modeling. Now comes news from across the pond that rock’n’roll prince of darkness Nick Cave’s son Jethro is following suit.
Young Jethro, 18, who lives in his dad’s native Australia and bears a striking similarity to the Bad Seed, has apparently ditched his legal (and perfectly fine last name of Lazenby in favor of Cave. He has so far appeared in UK hipster rags i-D and Dazed & Confused, and was recently flown to Paris to meet with French fashion house Balenciaga. Of course, what he really wants to do is produce (music).
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Manolo Blahnik’s name is of course familiar to shoe fetishists and Sex & the City slatterns. Quite apart from that however he is also one of the world’s best-dressed men. The dapper designer has both the panache and gravitas to pull off the old school double-breasted suit and bowtie look in a way that few men really can. Note that he does not look remotely silly even when clutching a satin stiletto (he’s about to sign it for some Bergdorf Blondes, not try it on).
Note also the ticket pocket and turned-back cuffs on the jacket which fairly shout “bespoke”; the jacquard bowtie of perfect proportion, disheveled just enough so that there can be no question of its being one of those horrific pre-tied affairs; the natty tortoiseshell specs; and the bodacious boutonniere, a nice Wildean touch. Whether he chose the suit to match the shoe we wouldn’t venture to say.
Back by popular demand—the latest installment in our series of pulchritudinous pairings, because two is sometimes so much better than one. This snap comes to us all the way from Moscow and a private dinner following megabucks gallerist Larry Gagosian’s new contemporary art show in a former chocolate factory.
Our delectable duo is of course Russian. On the left is supermodel Natalia Vodianova best known for her Calvin Klein campaigns and countless others; on the right, Dasha Zhukova, girlfriend of free-spending billionaire oligarch Roman Abramovich who’s launching her own well-financed foray into the art world. No doubt she was just there to pick up a little something by Jeff Koons or Takashi Murakami.
With a $500 price tag, its own velvet-lined suitcase and more melons than the fruit aisle at Whole Foods, Playboy’s limited edition The Complete Centerfolds book we told you about last November was one of those overly-ambitious ventures - much like the seven girlfriends - that seem to characterize Hef’s evening years.
Now however, perhaps responding to market pressures, they’ve released a more recession-friendly edition without all the bells and whistles, but still including every single strumpet to grace the famed gatefold since 1953 - over 600 of them to be exact. Presented chronologically in large format, it’s remarkable to chart the progression of soft porn aesthetics over the decades, changing with tastes and times. One thing’s for certain, however: melons have been in season for 50 years.
We don’t want to be unkind - oh, fuck it, why not? - but doesn’t this snap of weather-beaten couture king Valentino clutching a radiant and youthful Keira Knightley have more than touch of the Nosferatu about it? The knockout Knightley bore up well we have to say, at a screening of her new flick The Duchess hosted by Vogue and Chanel the other night.
In the flick she plays the randy snob Georgina Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire, the latest in what seems an unending streak of period roles. After yet another version of King Lear, she’s set to star in an adaptation of one of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s worst books, The Beautiful and Damned - which come to think of it makes a pretty good caption for this photo.
A lot of things are pointing to an imminent scooter revival; the price of gas and that business about carbon footprints, of course, but also the fact that folk like Rag & Bone keep basing collections on Mods and Rockers That makes Mick Walker’s zippy new book, Classic Scooters: 1945 - 1970 all the more timely. The Italian Piaggo company’s iconic Vespa and the equally alluring Lambretta are the famous ones, of course, but there are many others whose names may be unfamiliar but embody just as much great vintage verve. Snap up a copy, pop Quadrophenia on the stereo and be transported to a simpler, much more stylish era. We’ll meet you there.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Back before he became a big time music producer and multi-Grammy winner, Mark Ronson used to DJ all the hottest parties in town—and some out of town as well (ask him about the time he flew to Milan to DJ at a Gucci soirée and got in a shouting match with Charlize Theron.) His sartorial acumen has increased appreciably since those days behind the decks; onstage these days he affects a sort of dapper nouveau-rockabilly vibe, necktie always knotted just so.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Good old Julian Schnabel. The minute everyone started copying his signature pajama look, the larger-than-life art world provocateur shelved ‘em in favor of something even shabbier.
The other night at a screening of nouveau western Appaloosa hosted by the Cinema Society and Vanity Fair, Schnabel showed up to rub elbows and such with Jessica Lange in a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of board shorts.
We’re sure this is just a temporary measure until the p.j. trend cools off a bit. Of course, since flannel workwear shows signs of a flare-up as well this season, he may be out of the frying pan and into the fire, sartorially speaking.
In 1972, while filming Pocket Money with Paul Newman in Tucson, Arizona, tough guy actor Lee Marvin happened upon an artful adobe-style house designed in the Santa Catalina Foothills by Swiss architect Josias Joesler in 1936 and decided to call it home.
Marvin set about improving the property, designed around a Spanish-style courtyard with a massive fountain, putting in a pool, tennis court and screening room. Best of all, Marvin himself designed some wrought iron hardware and fixtures for the house which he commissioned from local blacksmiths. Now 20 years after the immortal actor has gone to the great MGM commissary in the sky, his widow is looking to sell the place to someone who’s willing to carry on Lee’s legacy. Yours for a mere $6 million.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
As a counterpoint to the toothsome model duo we presented you with the other day, here’s a well-tailored pair of gentlemen who provided a rare moment of sartorial splendor during a mostly humdrum Fashion Week.
On the left, former MOTH Zac Posen, the social butterfly fashion designer; on the right, a certain rich clown with an oversized ego and an identity crisis to match (what’s is it this week? Puffy? Diddy? Poncey?) The two met up at Mr. Posen’s runway show, where the designer sported an elegant ticket-pocketed tropical weight woolen number complete with boutonnière.
As the hype crescendos around Quantum of Solace’s impending release—new Bond Girls!—it’s a good time to consider the flick in its historical context. Especially as a smashing collection of classic 007 placards are hitting the block at Christie’s in London tomorrow. The prized Bond lot in the auction house’s Vintage Film Posters sale is a mint condition 1964 Goldfinger sheet in the rare British quad style B format, estimated at $7,00 - $10,000.
We’re partial however to this quirky and equally scarce Aston Martin promo piece produced for Thunderball in 1965, which is a much better deal at est. $3,000 - $3,500. Also included are classics from Dr. No (1962, est. $2,700 - $4,500), From Russia With Love (1963, est. $2,700 - $4,500) and the rest of the pantheon, with several variations of each. Mr. Craig would do well to study these masterpieces if he hopes to err on the side of Connery.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
As part of our continuing series of pulchritudinous pairings we bring you this snap from frenetic Fashion Week.
On the right is Belgian beauty Anouck Lepere, who last graced these pages when she posed for French Playboy, leading us to consider moving to France. On the left is Brit model Jacquetta Wheeler, who’s raked in a fortune posing from everyone from Prada to The Gap.
The pair were partying at an event for Another magazine, the so-hip-it-hurts publication founded by Kate Moss’ former paramour Jefferson Hack, hosted by our favorite new import, Bamford & Sons. It seems Hack has gotten over Ms. Moss and is now hitting the sheets with Anouck, the lucky bastard. He’s certainly no matinee idol, but if he could bottle whatever he’s got the guy would make a fucking fortune.
The venerable Van Hoo distillery in the village of Eeklo, Belgium has been churning out premium spirits for over 250 years, but their assault on America’s top shelves is just getting off the ground.
They recently gave their single estate, quadruple-distilled, charcoal filtered vodka a much-needed facelift, and it’s one of the best-looking and tasting examples we’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking way too much of. Packaged in a dashing Art Deco-style octagonal cobalt blue bottle, the yeasty, potent, and somewhat thick, syrupy spirit manages to mix mineral and citrus notes without stirring up a coup d’état; quite the opposite, in fact, a match made in some souse’s heaven. Not bad for a country where half the population refers to themselves as “Walloons.”
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Kempt regulars are well aware that the Style Guy sometimes goes in for curious accessories. While dressed perfectly correctly at the Standard Hotel the other night for the official relaunch of Interview—where he was recently installed as editor—our boy Glenn’s date for the evening was even curiouser.
Got an extra 25 grand, a blank wall and some friends you want to fuck with? Then head over to Sotheby’s today and snap up this eye-popping photo of Pamela Anderson by merry prankster David LaChapelle. The pic, which was taken in 2004 and measures an impressive 3-ft. tall, is a playful take on Pam’s permatan—not to mention her massive mammalian protuberances.
The pneumatic portrait is buried among a fairly ho-hum collection of contemporary art in the auction house’s New York sale today, with an estimate of $18,000 - $25,000 which we predict will end up on the high side even though most people will be bidding on paintings. Because there’s always been a heated competition for Pam’s ample charms.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve always been reasonably amused by Sean Lennon. We can’t recall actually listening to any of his music, but he managed to avoid being too overtly annoying in a way that would be all too easy for one of his parentage. And hey, having Yoko for a mom is no picnic. If anything, old Sean has erred on the side of boring, but once in a while he trots out a new female friend to spice things up a bit.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Seems we were way out ahead of the curve when we praised Julian Schnabel pajama clad magnificence back in January and handed him an unexpected MOTH. Some of you scoffed at the time, but several months later Schnabel’s signature style is all the rage in menswear circles, according to the Wall Street Journal.
The paper reports that designers including Michael Bastian, Bottega Veneta, Dolce & Gabbana, Giorgio Armani and Prada are now all flogging various versions of haute sleepwear made to worn in public. (Schnabel’s own, by the way, are made by his wife. So what does this all mean for the man on the street? Will we soon be able to go straight from bed to the office?
In the rush to give one’s champagne brand a boost in an increasingly-crowded marketplace, some firms go too far; take this womb-like contraption for chilling an otherwise blameless bottle of Veuve Clicquot, or Karl Lagerfeld’s Pepto Bismol pink Dom Pérignon carrier.
Contrast those with this elegantly understated Coffret case for Laurent-Perrier’s multi-vintage prestige cuvée Grand Siècle: a cleverly-constructed black case containing a magnum of the good stuff and six hand-blown Baccarat crystal champagne flutes in separate compartments.
No doubt some will complain that it doesn’t look expensive or flashy enough, and to them we say good night and good luck.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The other day in St. Moritz we caught a rare glimpse of one of the silver screen’s true classics—a certain Faye Dunaway. It can sometimes be painful to look upon the faded beauty of screen sirens in later life, but Ms. Dunaway has still got a certain something, a lingering spark of the woman who wowed us in Chinatown et al.; no mean feat at age 67.
The actress was spotted at an art gala thrown by Cartier in the Swiss resort the other night, where Claudia Cardinale, who, alas, has not aged as well, also put in appearance. Meanwhile, Dunaway may be returning to the big screen soon; she’s rumored to have a starring role in twisted director Todd Solondz’s upcoming flick Life During Wartime.
If you missed your shot at the Godfather of Soul’s shades, don’t despair—there’s still time to get your paws on Tom Jones’ billiard table.
On Thursday, London’s The Fame Bureau is auctioning off the table owned and used by the Welsh pop star in the ’60s and ’70s. Made by Burroughes & Watts of London c. 1880, the mahogany masterpiece made a cameo on the record sleeve of Jones’ 1971 LP She’s A Lady and is expected to fetch $100,000 - $150,000. Also on offer: Jimi Hendrix’s first burnt guitar, a 1967 Fender Stratocaster, which could go for as much as $1 million; the Bechstein Grand piano used by the Beatles to record Hey Jude in 1968, est. $600,000 - $800,000, and a slew of other less expensive but equally entrancing lots.
Start your bidding here.
Feast your eyes on this clownish couple, but be forewarned before clicking to enlarge the picture: they’re so plastered with logos we got acute conjunctivitis just looking at ‘em. Underneath all the claptrap you might recognize NASCAR nuggins Jeff Gordon (right), and a certain Mr. Pharrell Williams, who has won the adulation of the style set despite the fact that he dresses like an 11-year-old Japanese kid with ADD and way too much disposable income.
The painful-to-look-upon pair posed the other night at a Hollywood party for the Pepsi 500, the yearly race held at the end of the NASCAR season at the Auto Club Speedway in Fontana, California. Despite the similar getups they were not in fact there as a couple; Gordon was accompanied by his hot model/actress wife Ingrid Vandebosch. At least he has good taste in something.
While some claim Sotheby’s’ upcoming Damien Hirst blowout—which is expected to bring in about $120 million—is merely an excuse to clear out a backlog of unsold work from Hirst’s London gallery, the bad boy Brit artist insists it actually marks a major turning point in his colorful career.
Titled Beautiful Inside My Head Forever and timed to coincide with the 20th anniversary of the celebrated Freeze exhibition which launched his career, Hirst says the sale represents the last of his long-running series of formaldehyde works, spin, and spot paintings, which have become a bit too predictable.
“It’s like my friend [late Clash frontman] Joe Strummer once told me about writing songs,” Hirst says. “If you can guess what the rhyme’s gonna be in the next line, then it’s shit and you’ve gotta change it.” We couldn’t agree more; Hirst’s work, turned out by his “factory,” Warhol-style, resembles nothing more then a broken, though very profitable, record at this point. Time for a new gimmick, old boy.
Photo courtesy of the Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris / Phaidon PressIf it hadn’t been for a certain dapper Swiss genius named Charles-Édouard Jeanneret-Gris—Le Corbusier to you—the likes of Richard Meier and would still be playing with Legos. Perhaps the very first starchitect—and way cooler than Frank Lloyd Wright—the dapper fellow in the bowtie and black specs masterminded the Modern movement and laid the foundation, literally and figuratively, for all avant-garde design to come.
The Phaidon Press has just come out with a $200, 20-lb., 2,000-image tribute to this towering talent, entitled Le Courbusier: Le Grand. In it you can see how came up with groundbreaking designs for everything from chairs to skyscrapers, dressed to the nines all the way.
That eternally classic item of military-inspired menswear, the peacoat, has been interpreted in myriad different ways and fabrics over the years since it was first adopted by European navies some 250 years ago. Leave it to Hermes, however, to blow it out of the water.
For Fall, the famed house’s menswear designer Véronique Nichanian made a peacoat entirely of top-grade crocodile skin that will set you back a cool $150,000 and change, which gets our vote for the season’s most extravagant men’s item. The Hermes flagship on the Upper East Side just got in two of them, we’re told, in classic navy. You might be able to special order it another color—safety orange, say—if you’re willing to wait a few months and further decimate the crocodile population.
Frankly, we can see multiple-MOTH Cameron Silver sporting one of these for a sojourn on Valentino’s yacht or somesuch, but ordinary mortals will probably want to stick with the $120 version they sell at The Gap.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve admired British-born, Aussie-raised actor Guy Pearce ever since 1997’s brilliant L.A. Confidential, easily one of our favorite flicks of all time. An understated sort of fellow, we’ve never really paid much attention to his attire, but at the premiere of his new terrorist-CIA caper Traitor the other night, he caught our eye for pulling off the all-black look with a verve we haven’t seen since the unpredictable Mr. Cumming sported a similar set-up last March.
Photo courtesy of Steidl
A precious glimpse at one of the world’s most incredible photo collections from the golden age of Hollywood is to be found in Robert Dance’s opulent new book, Glamour of the Gods. The pix are all from the archives of John Kobal, who was one of the first to collect studio portraits of stars like Greta Garbo, Marlon Brando, Marlene Dietrich, Humphrey Bogart, Grace Kelly and Rita Hayworth, realizing they’d one day be equally important, if not more so, than the movies they made.
Above is Clarence Sinclair Bull’s incredibly elegant study of Gary Cooper, done for MGM in 1934, one of our favorite photos of all time. Further evidence, as if we required any, that they don’t make movie stars—or even photographs—like they used to.
Most of the tequilas we come across look like some kind of Tex Mex nightmare; occasionally one even resembles a good cognac. One thing we didn’t expect to see was an elixir of agave that could be a stand-in for ultra-premium vodka. In a crowded market, however, you sometimes have to think outside the box—er, bottle.
Thus we have Maestro Dobel, the “world’s first diamond tequila”, sold in numbered vessels bearing the name of the ranch the agave was harvested from. What the hell does “diamond” mean? Well, most aged tequilas of the anejo and extra-anejo variety look like they’ve been sitting around in oak for a while, which of course they have.
Maestro Dobel, a blend of the latter plus a spot of reposado, is crystal clear, however, the result of a “proprietary blending and filtration technique,” they say, that “gently expels congeners” along with color. Sounds like some kind of eel, no? Apparently it’s an impurity borne of fermentation that we consume all the time. Who knew? Who cares. But this is pretty good stuff all the same.
We’ve been under no illusions as to Mick Jagger’s impressive fecundity, but we thought we’d seen all the gorgeous children the wrinkly Rolling Stone planned to crank out in this lifetime. Turns out we overlooked Georgia May, 16, his drop-dead daughter by legendary stunner Jerry Hall.
Georgia just made her modeling debut in the UK for the Mail on Sunday’s You magazine, and we think the girl’s gonna go places. She’s got the signature lippage, for one thing, and has obviously been practicing poppa’s pout. And in case you’re wondering what it’s like having Mick as a dad, Georgie confesses to the mag, “He’s not as cool as you’d think he’d be.”
Oh well.
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.
Buried among the multimillion dollar Ferraris, Bugattis and Lamborghinis at this past weekend’s Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance and Gooding & Co.’s concurrent auction was a little piece of automotive history belonging to one Steve McQueen..
The King of Cool’s 1976 Porsche 930 Turbo Carrera (above), in an understated shade of slate gray, was the car the actor drove daily for the last years of his tragically short life. While nothing like his older Jaguar XK-SS and Ferrari 250 Lusso, both of which sold for millions in years past, the Porsche—which was hammered down for a measly $137,000—is somehow a more authentic, poignant relic of the once and future King.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
There are few things as entertaining down Hollywood way as Robert Downey Jr. in full wackjob mode. His cinematic comeback was that much more compelling because of all the guns, drugs and jail time he slogged through to get there. Now making waves with his blackface tour de force Tropic Thunder—and still sporting the ’70s ‘stache he grew for the role—he showed up to the flick’s LA premiere the other night looking like a cross between George Harrison and Robert Goulet.
Though we haven’t reviewed the mag in its entirety, the outlook is good for the Style Guy’s first fully revamped issue of Interview (September), which is about to hit newsstands. We should have known Ye Olde O’Brien would make things a lot more interesting.
In lieu of the endless fawning profiles of Elton John that cluttered up the pages under the previous regime, we now have full frontal nudes of Kate Moss. The snap here, by fashion photog duo Mert and Marcus, accompanies an interview penned by—you guessed it—Glenn O’Brien.
Because what’s the good of being editor if you can’t grab all the plum assignments for yourself?
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
In the course of bestowing the two MOTHs he’s pocketed so far—for an elegant all-black ensemble and the apex of equestrian chic—we issued a caveat about Alan Cumming’s occasionally overly theatrical tendencies in matters of dress. He is a quirky actor type after all, but once in a while these unfortunate propensities seem to get the better of him.
Considering how seriously nouveau 007 Daniel Craig takes his suits, we were not surprised to see that he made the grade in Vanity Fair’s 2008 International Best-Dressed List.
However, knowing how into Tom Ford Craig is—as we noted before, he refused to wear anything else for his GQ cover shoot, and went through 40+ Ford suits while filming the latest Bond flick, Quantum of Solace—we were somewhat taken aback to see him pictured in the mag wearing nothing but Dolce & Gabbana. Looks to us like someone at VF went out of their way to favor the Italian duo over the MOTH king—and it also looks like Tommy needs to buy a lot more ad space.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve had our eye on randy model/heiress Lydia Hearst for quite a while—following her progress with considerable interest, as Bertie Wooster might say.
She flaunts her charms to be sure, but somehow manages to avoid the Paris Hilton pitfall. And while not exactly a Rhodes Scholar, the provocative poppet certainly has a head on her shoulders, enough to be a good sport about it when Gawker takes the piss, as it’s wont to do. (Darn that creative underclass!)
Once upon a time, in a more graceful age, a gentleman wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without certain items, including a hat of course but also of equal importance, a walking stick. This had nothing to do with infirmity, though it wasn’t always purely ornamental either. There was a thriving trade in walking sticks of every description, some ingeniously made to conceal all manner of items a gentleman might find useful on his travels.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Publicists in these parts will do pretty much anything to garner attention for their clients; the invention of pseudo-holidays seems to be a tactic they teach in flack school for extra credit. Of course, the attempts vary in success.
The other day we were entreated to celebrate National Root Beer Float Day—despite the obvious paradox inherent in celebrating something to do with nonalcoholic drinks. Shortly after that we were informed of the imminent approach of National Underwear Day—sorry, make that the Sixth Annual National Underwear Day—presented by online unmentionables outlet FreshPair.com.
Starting this week, for the first time in 200 years whiskey is being sold at George Washington’s distillery at Mount Vernon, where the nation’s first president produced an impressive 11,000 gallons the stuff in 1799.
The move was made possible under special legislation signed by Virginia Governor Tim Kaine, whom we hereby anoint an honorary MOTH for his services to the cause. The distillery was one of the largest, most successful whiskey distilleries in early America, using corn and rye grown on Washington’s plantation until it burned down in 1814. It re-opened last year after extensive renovations and will hopefully be producing Washington’s signature sauce in saleable quantities again soon, but for starters they’re offering small bottles of a unique “vatted” American whiskey made from portions of 11 famous brands, “married” and re-aged at Mount Vernon.
The brands include Jack Daniel’s, Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, Maker’s Mark, Woodford Reserve, and that Southern classic which might well have been named in honor of ol’ George himself: Virginia Gentleman.
The other day in our post about Peter Beard, we noted that the legendary lensman is still going strong while his swashbuckling contemporaries have all bitten the dust.
If anyone required further proof, Beard just finished shooting the 2009 Pirelli Calendar, the Italian tire company’s coveted and highly flammable annual promo full of naked supermodels given away to select VIPs (the kind who own fleets of Pirelli-shod Ferraris). Beard spent 10 days in the wilds of Botswana with a flock of world-class hotties including Kemptress Isabeli Fontana, The Gisele, Malgosia Bela, Daria Werbowy, Raquel Zimmermann and not a lot of clothes.
Here, the ever-adventurous photographer sets up a shot of a couple of the gals frolicking topless with Cathy the elephant.
All in a day’s work for our man Pete.
Congratulations, Rufus Wainwright—this is without a doubt the most hideous fucking outfit we’ve seen all year! We were pretty sure gossip goblin Perez Hilton was gonna waddle away with the prize, but you just left him in a pile of piggy stardust thanks to the getup you sported at the 15th Annual Watermill Summer Benefit in the Hamptons the other night.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Here claim his third MOTH—only the second fellow to score a hat trick so far, the first being Hamish Bowles—is dandified Los Angeles vintage clothing kingpin Cameron Silver. We might have expected the irrepressible Mr. Silver to rescue us from the sartorial lapses of summer with something like the study in brown and cream he wore to the opening of the new Prada store in San Franciso.
There’s a major occasion to celebrate for men and drinkers everywhere coming up in December, so it only makes sense to start preparing now. December 5th marks the 75th anniversary of the Repeal of Prohibition the date that Utah finally ratified the 21st Amendment, ending a 13-year national nightmare saw an increase in crime and alcohol abuse - the very thing it was intended to counteract - while costing the Treasury’s coffers millions in lost tax revenue.
To help us get ready, drinkers’ rights group the Distilled Spirits Council has just launched an intoxicating new site, ProhibitionRepeal.com, with extensive sections on the history, cocktails, and legacy of the dark years, plus tips on throwing your own Repeal party.
It also highlights the battles still to be fought - such as the ridiculously antiquated Blue Laws that “continue to burden consumer convenience” in many states, as they so artfully put it. In other words, there’s still some mighty thirsty work to be done.
What has Leo DiCaprio got that you haven’t? Well, Bar Refaeli for one, the startlingly stacked Israeli model he’s been keeping company with for the past couple years.
Considering the stilettos she’s stepping into here - Leo’s ex is if course The Gisele - Bar looks like beating the odds. She was the first Israeli chick to be admitted into the ranks of Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Issue sirens and was recently named Best Body of 2008 by Arena magazine. To top it off she was just picked as the new face (and such) of Hurley, the Californian surf and skate company with a cult-like following.
The ads (above) will debut in the fall, when she’ll also be appearing in Tommy Hilfiger’s Iconic America TV special.
We’ll let you make your own “Bar none” joke.
Talk about vintage champagne - some lucky bastard just found the world’s oldest bottle of Veuve Clicquot lying around his Scottish castle in a dusty cabinet that’d been locked up for the last 100 years.
Chris James, the current owner of Torosay Castle on the Isle of Mull off Scotland’s west coast told the London Telegraph he’d long been meaning to have a peek inside the cupboard, for which he had no key. After finally enlisting the help of a locksmith, James discovered the original owner’s personal booze stash, including bottles of claret and brandy, a decanter of port, and an unopened bottle of 1893 Veuve yellow label in mint condition, thanks to the cellar-like conditions that prevail in old Scottish castles. He contacted the company who informed him the ancient bubbly was literally priceless.
Head to toe madras got a boost this summer from the likes of Ralph Lauren and Thom Browne’s Black Fleece collection. However, the full-on matching madras suit effect is a bit much, we feel, even in this realm.
Trust that old dog Glenn O’Brien to show us how it should be done. His plaids are complimentary but not identical; what’s more they’re obviously well-worn and look as if the fabric might be authentically Indian to boot.
When the great Miles Davis was assembling his quintet in 1955 and chose a troubled young saxophonist named John Coltrane over more established and experienced players, many assumed the partnership wouldn’t last. While Davis was a reserved, dapper aesthete born to achievement, Coltrane was cut from coarser cloth but no less of a musical genius for that. Surely two such outsized talents were bound to clash, especially with the specter of Coltrane’s drug use looming overhead.
There were no pyrotechnics apart from the musical variety however, note Farah Jasmine Griffin and Salim Washington, authors of an illuminating book due out next week, Clawing at the Limits of Cool: Miles Davis, John Coltrane and the Greatest Jazz Collaboration Ever—because “Coltrane was too humble, and Miles was simply too cool.” And thank god for it, or they might never have gotten around to laying down Kind of Blue.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We were admittedly more than a little wary of the idea of a remake of one of our favorite films of all time, the BBCs 1981 adaptation of Brideshead Revisited, and frankly surprised that anyone would have the brass to undertake it in the first place (Do you fuck with Jeremy Irons? No you do not).
We’ll suspend further critical judgments until we’re able to screen the new one in its entirety, but in any case we fully approve of any cinematic endeavor featuring so many fine examples of 1920s British gentleman’s kit. And we’re already predisposed to approve of the convincingly toff-y Matthew Goode, who was one of the few redeeming features of Match Point and has the daunting task of filling Irons’ brogues.
Photo courtesy of Taschen
43 years ago adventurer / photographer Peter Beard published a landmark book on Africa, The End of the Game.
The pedigreed Yale grad - whose dashing grandfather, tobacco heir Pierre Lorillard IV is credited with popularizing the tuxedo - had met author Karen Blixen (aka Isak Dinesen) in Denmark, who sparked his interest in the Dark Continent.
Beard, pictured here in Kenya’s Aberdare Moorlands in 1966 displaying some of grandpa’s flair, went on to become not only one of our most interesting and accomplished cultural characters, but a true style icon as well, marrying Cheryl Tiegs and discovering Iman along the way. Taschen has just come out with a revised edition of the End of the Game, with a new foreword by Paul Theroux, a seasoned adventurer in his own right.
We’ve never been overly fond of Miami Beach—the “badly-dressed epicenter of the Northern Hemisphere”, as we once put it—a place where even the normally natty seems to lose their sartorial senses.
We’re seriously reconsidering that position however since the advent of a Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week offshoot dedicated to swimwear, which wrapped up yesterday. In New York there’d be the usual parade of starving waifs stumbling down the runway, but this being Miami the catwalk was packed with stacked stunners eye-popping enough for us to ignore how hideous most of the designs were.
Never mind that GQ recently declared that fake tits are as outré in the current economic climate as gas-guzzling SUVs.
The news apparently never reached Miami, and therein lies its charm.
Hugh Hefner must have had a good chuckle over our post on the porta-nymphs at the Hugo Boss / Interview party the other day. “Ha,” we can practically hear him snort, “fucking amateurs.” They should have known better than to try and bite his style.
At the Playboy founder’s own pre-ESPY Awards party with Blu-Ray the other night in Beverly Hills, he not only had the nymphs—he had them make out.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The trademark leer, the thumbs up, her rather addled expression - we have to ask: is the prince of pervy photogs getting his hooks into Top Chef temptress Padma Lakshmi? We spotted the unlikely pair looking cozy at Interview magazine’s party celebrating the soon-to-be-extinct Polaroid at Delicatessen the other night.
Photo © MPTV / Richard Miller, courtesy Pavilion BooksWe won’t waste a lot of words here telling you just how fucking cool Steve McQueen was.
If you’ve been paying attention you already know all about it, and if not, well, that’s OK too, but let your education begin with the most stylish damn book to muscle its way onto our desk this season: Steve McQueen: A Life in Pictures.
The first thing that sets it apart from the pack is the sheer size of the thing; at 10” x 12” the level of detail, sartorial and otherwise, is simply incandescent. Above, by way of example, is a snap of the King of Cool in one of his Porsches at the Riverside Raceway circuit in ‘59.
Just one though—we don’t want to overload you….
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The other day we were musing on the go-to-hell fashions at ultra-fancy Hamptons summer benefits which enliven an otherwise dull sartorial season.
On the flipside, there’s something to be said for the seamier sort of East End bacchanal, the kind where they use any means necessary to pack the joint and drum up publicity, such as the Hugo Boss and Interview magazine shindig at the Kingswood Estate in East Hampton the other night.
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…
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Cinema Society swell Andrew Saffir makes his second MOTH appearance here at the screening of 9/11 flick August at the Soho Grand the other night.
Once again the natty social butterfly donned a dapper hacking-style jacket from downtown dandy depot Lord Willy’s, which is quietly clothing some of the best dressed men in town. This number is summer-weight navy blue cotton with subtle grosgrain trim, a ticket pocket, contrast stitching on the buttonholes and a turquoise lining.
Courtesy of Abrams Books
Tim Pilcher’s titillating new title, Erotic Comics: A Graphic History certainly covers the territory. Beginning with the salacious mosaics of antiquity—oh, those naughty Ancient Romans—and Japanese Shunga woodblocks, it travels through Hogarth’s London and the ostensibly repressed Victorian era to the Tijuana Bibles of the 1930s, the rise of men’s magazines following World War II and the underground “comix” era of the ’70s.
However, we’re partial to the ’50s and ’60s (as usual) and the work of fellows like Bill Ward (above) with his impossibly-proportioned pin-ups and burlesque queens. He drew more than 10,000 of them over the course of his career, more than any other such artist before or since, and his influence is still apparent today—just check out the cover of the Fratellis’ Costello Music for one.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Comic actor Will Smith isn’t typically our beau idéal of a stylish fellow, but we have noticed him turning out in some pretty snazzy threads of late.
Still we were surprised by the boldly checked three-piece Tom Ford suit he wore to the premiere of his new superhero spoof Hancock the other night. We expect this sort of thing from MOTH whiz Daniel Day-Lewis but hardly the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
When manga artist Takashi Murakami was first tapped to collaborate with Louis Vuitton, he opened our eyes to the burgeoning cultural renaissance taking place in Japan.
Now the Japanese avant-garde is getting the full treatment in Ian Luna’s Tokyolife: Art & Design, which showcases the work of over 80 creative types pushing the boundaries in those fields as well as architecture, film, photography and of course fashion. While some names like Nigo of A Bathing Ape are already widely familiar and influential, others have yet to make their mark on the West.
Here’s your primer.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Ah, a benefit bash in Southampton during the high season. Where the fuck else would you find people dressed like this? And god bless ‘em for it. It’s been rather a dull summer so far sartorially, and we welcome this demonic display of madras as much as we would one of those cocktails they’re clutching.
Now let’s examine their full tribal regalia a little more closely - not only are they wearing madras, which any amateur can do, but patchwork madras and clashing bowties. Guy on the left - we’ll call him C.K. Dexter Haven - also has on shorts embroidered with little green lobsters. Guy the right - aka Sniffin K. Bellows IV - is wearing a contrast club collar shirt and a chronic case of lockjaw.
Now please put those jackets away until next year.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Though we find his self-consciously under-designed collections a bit precious at times, we’re all for Rogan Gregory’s new collaboration with two-time MOTH Michael Stipe.
Last seen rocking some Freeman’s Sporting Club chalkstripes, the R.E.M. frontman is apparently a Rogan fan to boot. He’s also something of a frustrated artist, judging by his installation, entitled Relics, at Rogan’s new Bouwerie Lane Theatre digs.
This snap is from opening night, where Jeff Koons and Coldplay’s Chris Martin also made the scene. The show runs through July 27 so you can judge for yourself.
Showing up too early for a Rolling Stones shoot has proved fruitless for many a young photographer, sent away with a sneer from a certain famous pair of lips. For John “Hoppy” Hopkins however, it was the beginning of something big.
When he arrived to take some pix of the band one day in the summer of 1964, the former physicist and the recalcitrant Stones frontman hit it off. Hopkins later recounted that Jagger said he was the only photographer whom he’d ever allowed to take his picture before lunch.
The moody result, above, is included in Hopkins’ genius new book, From the Hip: Photographs by John “Hoppy” Hopkins 1960-66.
It seems that Burberry’s “just us blokes” creative director Christopher Bailey was as impressed with Anton Corbijn’s Ian Curtis biopic Control as we were.
He’s hired Sam Riley, who played the Joy Division frontman, to star in Burberry’s new Fall/Winter 2008-09 ad campaign shot by Mario Testino — in black-and-white like the movie.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The cat in the hat here is usually found behind the seams, if you will, when it comes to MOTHs like Adrian Grenier and Nigel Barker.
So it’s nice to see dandified downtown tailor Duncan Quinn out and about himself for once. We spotted the bespoke Brahmin at a party for Tanqueray No. 10 and Elle magazine hosted by architect/designer Campion Platt the other night - which explains the odd choice of headgear.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’re sorry to say it, but Graydon Carter is a stubborn ass. Not eight weeks after we commended him for ditching unflatteringly-padded double-breasted suits in favor of sleek-making single-b.’s, the Vanity Fair editor is back enfolded in extra layers of fabric again, drawing undue attention to all those late night snacks at the Waverly.
Following the passing of its gentlemanly founder last year, the House of Gianfranco Ferre seems to be intent on sexing up its image after abruptly parting ways with new designer Lars Nilsson a few months ago.
Just take a gander at this image from Ferre’s brand new Fall/Winter ‘08-‘09 ad campaign shot by Steven Meisel, which features this well-suited gent frolicking with frequently topless babes. Probably not the sort of thing the buttoned-up, unfailingly elegant Mr. Ferre would have greenlighted himself before he went to the great couture house in the sky, but we like it fine.
Meanwhile, the Ferre men’s presentation (staged in lieu of a real runway show) in Milan the other day was something of a mixed bag, but the shades were pretty slick at least.
Don’t know about you, but we’d pretty much given up on ever finding a motorcar worthy of sharing garage space with our Bugatti Veyron Fbg par Hermes.
Leave it to Donatella Versace to save the day. The leathery Italian fashion queen has long been said to be collaborating with Lamborghini on a limited edition supercar.
We should make it clear from the start that while we never watch television, we do have something of a Netflix addiction to House M.D..
And though we were drawn to it by the prospect of Bertie Wooster playing a misanthropic American medico, Jennifer Morrison (aka Dr. Cameron) is certainly easy on the eyes. If only the wardrobe department wouldn’t insist on stuffing her into ill-fitting Club Monaco career separates.
Another pic of our newest Kemptress and more info after the jump»
Shakespeare in the Park is a storied New York rite of summer, and the Public Theater’s annual gala on opening night is always quite a scene.
At this year’s fete, we’d like to have been a fly buzzing around Table 26 where multi-talented mates Steve Martin and Mike Nichols were holding court. Martin, in trademark fedora - this one in two-tone straw for summer - and The Graduate director Nichols are on either side of Martin’s adorable New Yorker scribe wife Anne Stringfield.
In this snap Nichols looks as if he’s putting over a particularly toothsome bon mot — perhaps something about gentlemen who fail to remove their hats during dinner.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan
We’ve previously mentioned our predilection for pulchritudinous pairings, so there’s no need for much of a rationalization to run this photo.
It features proto-Kemptress Erin Wasson, aka the Texan Tomato, and Barbados-born songbird Rihanna schmoozing at the Thompson Beverly Hills.
Lanky Sonic Youth frontman Thurston Moore is one of the few No Wave-ers to have achieved a measure of commercial success.
So its no wonder that he pays homage to the musical subculture that his hipster empire is founded upon in his cool new book, No Wave: Post-Punk. Underground. New York 1976-1980.
You can pick up a vintage Bentley that once belonged to Sean Connery, the greatest Bond of all, at Bonhams’ auto auction as part of the Rolls-Royce Enthusiast’s Club’s annual rally this weekend for a relative pittance. The beautiful 1961 S2 saloon, finished in two-tone Tudor Grey / Shell Grey with a contrasting red leather interior, is estimated at only £12,000 - £15,000, or about $24,000 - $30,000, a fraction of what a new, less distinguished model sans pedigree will cost you.
Here at Kempt, we may fly the flag of the stylish man, but we can’t help ourselves when it comes to a beautiful woman. We’re sure you’ve noticed the healthy helping of enticing ladies on our site, but it’s high time they had a corner of Kempt to call their own. Thus we give you the Kemptress—a glimpse into the lives of the women we love. After all, MOTH’s get lonely…
It’s no easy task to fill the formidable stilettos of Claudia Cardinale, one of the most beautiful silver screen sirens of the Sixties. But we think Brazilian bombshell Isabeli Fontana has the chops.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
It would remiss of us not to point out when one of our MOTHs oversteps the bounds. Regrettably that’s just what former Talking Head David Byrne did the other night at the annual Webby Awards.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We had to hand this MOTH to Dennis Hopper for pulling off the not inconsiderable feat of posing next to a drug-addled sex bomb fifty years his junior while wearing clothes made for his grandkids—and managing not to look remotely ridiculous in the process.
Two things they don’t make like they used to—movie posters and movies. Case in point: Michelangelo Antonioni’s brilliant 1966 flick Blow-Up.
David Hemmings plays Thomas, a debauched fashion photographer based on David Bailey who thinks he may have witnessed a murder. But the plot takes a back seat to the movie’s incredibly stylish mise-en-scène, not to mention Thomas’ navy blue Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud convertible, slant-pocketed velvet hacking jacket and endless stream of beautiful bedmates.
At Bonhams Entertainment Sale in London on June 18, you can snag a piece of the magic in the form of this original poster from the film, estimated at £300 - £500. If you think you can outbid us, that is.
The New York Observer recently went batshit over gladiator sandals, oddly devoting the entire cover to a story entitled Ben-Her.
Cited as examples of the hot women warriors sporting the style this summer were Sarah Jessica Parker, Ashley Olson and Cynthia Rowley. However, we think mouthwatering model Erin Wasson wore them best by far, at the after-party for the CFDA Awards the other night—wore one, that is, accessorized with a matching pair of glossy black crutches.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Two of our favorite fellows who both happened to be named Paul got together in London the other night for a very stylish fete.
The great Sir Paul Smith hosted a book bash for his brother-in-arms Paul Weller, aka “The Modfather,” founder of seminal Brit band The Jam and the aptly named Style Council.
Italian photographer and documentary filmmaker Fabio Paleari is best known for capturing one of the last interviews with Allen Ginsberg before his death in 1997. We assume he saw a similar window of opportunity with his latest subject, smack rocker Pete Doherty, who by all accounts should be dropping dead any minute now.
The great Sir Paul Smith may have recently signed on to design new off-pitch duds for the Manchester United Football Club (that’s soccer to you), but the sporting supermen were not always in need of such sartorial succor.
Back in the ’50s they wore good old classic club blazers when not actively pummeling opponents, and needed no other decoration, as Bonhams upcoming Sporting Sale demonstrates.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve never been huge fans of Moby’s music, but we have to admit we like his style. For a little bald guy with glasses he does himself pretty well. Sartorially he may not be much to write home about, but he manages to exude the right kind of insouciant electro-rock star cool in a way that’s essentially inimitable: just you try walking around like this and see how far you get if you don’t believe us.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The information that downtown dude John Varvatos had opened a boutique in uptown East Hampton somehow passed us by, but then we spend more time upstate than on the East End these days—for reasons which should be obvious enough if you’ve ever been bumper-to-bumper on the Montauk Highway.
In any case, the designer who recently revamped CBGBs celebrated the first anniversary of his Hamptons outpost the other night with an exhibition of photos by the legendary Mick Rock, famous for his iconic shots of the likes of Iggy, Bowie, and Syd Barrett.
Compass Box, the no-nonsense artisanal Brit whiskymaker whose ambrosial offerings we first told you about last year, has just come out with a new bottling of its limited release Hedonism Scotch in time for a certain Hallmark holiday.
Hedonism is a blend of rare old Scotch grain whisky — traditionally low grade, unmatured stuff made from wheat or corn added to malt whisky to make the major brands of blended Scotch. However, when properly aged in oak, Scotch grain whisky can achieve its own delectable character, albeit of a much lighter, honeyish, toffee-like variety; a before-dinner Scotch if you will.
Compass Box bottles the stuff when it can find enough mature grain whisky—20 years old on average—in good oak casks. No easy task, but we’re certainly glad they bothered.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
New York Rangers roisterer-turned-Vogue intern Sean Avery gets away with lots of out-there antics. We draw the line, however, at silver boots. Apparently Hedi Slimane has been passing these things around as a joke and fashion victims like our awkward forward here have fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
Since it opened as a museum a year ago, Philip Johnson’s famous 1949 Glass House in New Canaan, CT has been flooded by both seekers after architectural wisdom and design junkies in general—so much so in fact, that all tours for the rest of 2008 are already sold out.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We were pleased to see our old friend, author, Nightlife Decathlon star and all-round bon vivant Anthony Haden-Guest crop up in the photos from Chanel designer Karl Lagerfeld’s book party at the Pace/MacGill Gallery the other night—where we also spotted three-time MOTH whiz Hamish Bowles.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Gentlemen: After seven months of MOTHs, we’re pleased to announce that one of our fellows has finally scored the first hat trick in this hotly-contested sartorial series.
Author, editor and World’s Best Dressed Man contender Hamish Bowles has beat out 48 other natty candidates to be the first to put a third MOTH on his mantel. You other two-time MOTH whizzes—Alan Cumming, André Benjamin, Cameron Silver, Daniel Day-Lewis, Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Michael Stipe—not to mention the rest have got some serious catching up to do, and we’ll brook no slovenliness this summer no matter how high the mercury rises, is that understood?
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
First of all, this will be our final photographic dispatch from Vienna’s louche Life Ball, so it’s no use begging or appealing to our better nature—which so far as we know is non-existent anyway.
While Agent Provocateur founder Joe Corre’s shenanigans were certainly entertaining, it was molten media heiress Lydia Hearst who really stole the show.
NEIL RASMUS/PatrickMcMullan.comAgent Provocateur founder Joe Corre is nothing if not a consummate showman—but then what else would you expect from the son of Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren?
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
A MOTH likes his WOTH s, WWLs, and whatever they call the gratuitous knockouts in GQ just fine, but it’s exceedingly rare to find all the qualities one desires in just one woman. Often we’ve found that at least two are required.
And when it comes to the perfect pairing, it’s hard to beat the two pictured here: statuesque stunner Jessica Stam and cooler-than-thou actress Chloe Sevigny.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
When it first came out in 1973, Lou Reed’s tragic rock opera Berlindisappointed fans who’d been expecting an upbeat follow-up to his glam opus Transformer. Left to gather dust, it took twenty years for critical opinion to come around and finally dub it a masterwork.
Larger-than-life artist/auteur Julian Schnabel had, of course, always been a believer»
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Sex Pistols svengali Malcolm McLaren is one of Thom Browne’s biggest fans. Perhaps the subversive nature of Brown’s sartorial spin appeals to the old saboteur. McLaren’s been a firm believer in épater la bourgeoisie since the SEX days.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
When he last made the MOTH scene at the Tudors premiere, Irish actor Jonathan Rhys Meyers was decked out in a killer custom-tailored midnight blue dress suit by John Galliano. For the Met Costume Institute Gala the other night, he one-upped the basic black tie crowd in a similarly more-sartorial-than-thou suit designed by Nicolas Ghesquière for Balenciaga.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Here making his second MOTH appearance, the multi-talented André Benjamin (aka André 3000) stole the show at the Met Costume Institute’s gala Monday night.
What won us over was his beautifully-cut cream shawl-collared dinner jacket with a subtle tone-on-tone glen plaid pattern, which could be from his Benjamin Bixby line, though it looks a little on the formal side—perhaps Ralph Lauren or Brioni is a better call—worn with Hollywood-waisted dress trousers, velvet evening slippers and a perfectly-proportioned pointed-end black velvet bowtie. His signature flourishes were apparent in the straw fedora, pearl shirt studs and a somewhat faded-looking but nonetheless brassy boutonniere»
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’re not entirely sure just what look Smashing Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan was going for with this stripey Hello Sailor rig he wore to the L.A. premiere of Iron Man the other night. Actually the outfit looks more suitable to swabbing the decks than manning the mainsail, though it’s possible Corgan wasn’t thinking nautical thoughts at all. Perhaps the movie’s comic book basis simply went to his head»
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Browsing through photos of the usual muttonheads at the Washington Correspondents Dinner the other night we were surprised to see our old friend, brilliant writer/director Bruce Wagner, among the throng.
Wagner, whom you might know from his masterpieces cinematic (Wild Palms, Scenes from the Class Struggle in Beverly Hills) and literary (Force Majeure , I’m Losing You, Memorial), is a writer/producer of British actress Tracey Ullman’s new satirical series, State of the Union.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
John Waters wasn’t the only one to surprise us with his stylistic splendor at the Cry-Baby musical premiere the other night. Waters’ fellow Baltimorean Adam Duritz, the Counting Crows frontman and record producer, blew in like a breath of fresh air with a preview of coming attractions, sartorially speaking, swathed in summer suiting befitting a southern gentleman.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We always just kind of took it for granted that king-of-camp John Waters only ever wears vintage threads. That’s what the writer/director’s skinny suits and ties always looked like to us, and it seemed to match his retro persona perfectly. The other night at the opening of the new musical version of his 1990 film
It was the modernized boating blazer that tipped us off, of course»
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
A few months ago we appealed to Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter—in an avuncular fashion—to discard the double-breasted suits which added an unflattering layer to his majestic midsection; the wrong kind of camouflage, if you will.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Debonair designer Zac Posen has been on the verge of snagging many a MOTH before now, only to be usurped at the last moment by some slightly more splendiferous fellow. Truth be told, there were some very close calls where we ended up handing the prize to a less consistently natty rival, simply because we knew there’d never be a shortage of stylish Zac sightings. The man seems to be at every A-list event on the social calendar, and he’s usually the life of the party.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
There’s something kind of frightening about this photo of Robert Redford and Christoper Walken—and we don’t mean in the good way that Walken usually gives us the willies. Perhaps it’s merely the fact that these two incredibly charismatic and stylish cinematic icons have gotten so damned old, while so few young fellows of any discernable panache or even talent have come along to replace them.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Here we have a topping triumvirate to be reckoned with: haute hotelier Andre Balazs, literary lion Tom Wolfe, and dapper designer David Chu. Wolfe is of course a style icon of long standing, but the other two are no slouches in the dressing department either. In fact it’s rare to see three of the nattiest types in town across such a broad spectrum having a tête-à-tête.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Quirky indie icon David Byrne has mastered many artforms, and he’s got the Grammys, Oscars and Golden Globes on the mantle to prove it. The Scottish-born former Talking Head and RISD dropout recently joined Paul Simon onstage for one night of the latter’s month-long residency at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Ask, and ye shall receive: an extra helping of MOTH star Waris Ahluwalia for your viewing pleasure, that is. Our favorite beturbaned member of the bon ton is pictured here with gal-about-town Jessica Joffe at a Theory party for artist David Ellis the other night.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
R.E.M. frontman Michael Stipe, last seen layering it on like a motherfucker, has always been distinctively dressed, but we’ve never seen him looking quite as natty as he did at the Food Bank for New York City’s anniversary awards gala at the Chelsea Piers the other night (where we also spotted a stylin’ Isaac Mizrahi).
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Dashing designer Isaac Mizrahi makes a splash but always stays on the safe side of zany—no easy feat when you’re establishing yourself as a too-beaucoup TV personality. Though his women’s clothes and various bringing-style-to-the-masses projects get all the attention, he turned out a damn fine men’s collection for Fall 2008, which was good enough to get the nod from Bergdorf’s.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The other day when we said there were no challengers to Keith Richards’ reign atop sex, drugs and rock’n’roll royalty, it obviously triggered something - the appearance of a certified contender, David Johansen of the New York Dolls.
By now, you’d think someone else would have come along to usurp Keith Richards’ as the archetype of sex, drugs and rock & roll style. As a group, the geriatric juggernaut that is the Rolling Stones seems a bit comic with their never-ending world touring, but while the rest of the band looks like they’ve traded hookers and blow for Depends and Metamucil, Keef keeps rocking on.
He’s not carefully-maintained and certainly not well-preserved, but rather perfectly and stylishly weathered.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Sharon Stoned, we mean—as far as we know foppish Fiat heir Lapo Elkann has steered clear of the hard stuff since that unfortunate incident with the transvestite hooker in Turin.
In fact, our boy Lapo is now such a testament to recovery he was hobnobbing with the actress at an event honoring his appointment as ambassador to some kind of newfangled medical center.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Following in the footsteps of Sean Penn and Petra Nemcova, aging action hero Bruce Willis has been stepping out lately with a much younger model, sometime Victoria’s Secret siren Emma Hemming.
Willis isn’t really known for his sartorial savoir faire, but he does have the sense to realize that a new look is necessary to pull off a poule de luxe.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
If you’ve spent any time on the New York style circuit, you’ve no doubt come across idiosyncratic aRUDE magazine founder Iké Udé. With his dandified duds, the Nigerian-born artist, publisher and aesthete brightens up many an otherwise dull evening.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
He creeped us out in Match Point and modeled for Versace and Hugo Boss before embarking on his latest role—a kind of priapic, po-mo Henry VIII in The Tudors—but Irish actor Jonathan Rhys Meyers has always won full marks for his stylish attire.
At the Tudors premiere the other night, he sported an ensemble that had an almost Rockabilly look to it: a midnight blue dress suit with satin piping on the lapels—custom-tailored by John Galliano—and a superskinny leather tie by Camilla Staerk.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Looking through the past week’s party pix we were struck by this classic triptych of extremely influential characters. At an opening of an exhibition of photographs by Mikhail Baryshnikov the other night, the coolest dude to ever don a pair of ballet tights was flanked by fellow icons Julian Schnabel and Lou Reed.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Brazilian jewelry designer / socialite Luigi Tadini—full name Gian Luigi de Almeida Prado Tadini—is one of those rare fellows who can pull off an ascot. You might say he’s carved out something of a niche in the offbeat neckwear department.
Tadini, a sometime model who also had a small role in The Devil Wears Prada, describes his style as “a mix between a young Mick Jagger and 40 year-old Cary Grant and perhaps a little Alain Delon”. The man knows his references, at least.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Last time Scottish actor Alan Cumming caught our eye, he was sporting the latest in equestrian chic. For this, his second MOTH conquest, he would at first glance appear to be dressed much more conservatively—but only at first glance.
We find this triple-black ensemble of his, worn to the premiere of a new off-Broadway production of Chekhov’s The Seagull in which he co-stars, to be of equal interest. It’s rescued from the mundane by the dressy elements, the textural appeal, and an offbeat approach to the old ‘black tie’ chestnut.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
What we have here is a study in contrasts. You could call it old vs. new, youth vs. experience, or even the future vs. the past. On a purely sartorial level, however, we would just call this pic of Irish nouveau-folkie Damien Rice and Canadian-born singer/songwriter, poet and novelist Leonard Cohen good vs. bad.
At the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame’s gala at the Waldorf-Astoria the other night, the great Cohen was inducted into that dubious institution. Rice performed one of Cohen’s songs in tribute; he should have borrowed Cohen’s classic evening clothes as well.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
In our first five months of MOTHs we’ve witnessed some significant sartorial transformations—see Hanks, Tom—but none so dramatic as today’s honoree, Terry Richardson, the photographer who’s pioneered a sort of nouveau-perv aesthetic. Richardson, son of famed fashion photographer Bob Richardson, lensed fellow MOTH Tom Ford’s controversial new ad campaign. Richardson has long favored a uniform of grungey plaid flannel shirts, thermal underwear and well-worn tees.
But the Natural History Museum’s Ball saw another side of Mr. Richardson»
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The gangster / jazz great look is a hard one to pull off with any measure of success. Too often practitioners err with exaggeratedly-cut or outlandishly-fabric’d suits, overly large or oddly-hued hats, ridiculous neckties, or just generally odious accessories and embellishments. The trick is to keep things as elegantly simple and classic as possible, perhaps even a little austere if you really don’t want anyone thinking you’re on your way to a costume ball.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The prevalence of the Sleek Grey Suit among men of style these days is aesthetically appealing but not terribly interesting, sartorially speaking. But here comes Stanley Tucci to show us how it should be done.
Tucci, the acclaimed actor (and also writer, producer and director) who currently has seven different movies in production, elevated the SGS to a whole new level with the simple addition of a dashing, brilliantly hued scarf.
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.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Dear Spike:
We love the chunky tortoiseshell specs—they bring out the auteur in you. The rat fur epaulettes, not so much. The diamond earring—your call, brother. But seriously, what’s up with the rodent pelt? If PETA sees you in that thing it’ll really be Mo’ Better Blues, and you know how they like to hang around outside movie premieres with their little paint cans.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The restaurants bearing the Mr. Chow moniker are known as much for their haute-chinois cuisine and glittering clientele as their sophisticated, understated elegance. Small wonder then that the real Mr. Chow embodies the latter perfectly.
We’ve never had the pleasure of dining at the original London location, opened in 1968, but the super-stylish New York outpost on E. 57th St. is one of our favorite restaurants in the world. The man behind it all, Michael Chow, is also an actor of note and an art collector extraordinaire whose portrait has been painted by David Hockney and Jean-Michel Basquiat, among others.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
In his capacity as a graphic design demigod, Chip Kidd routinely transforms books into objets d’art. In the course of a celebrated career he’s done dazzling dustjackets for everyone from John Updike to Bret Easton Ellis. Some of his work, like the famous dinosaur skeleton he designed for Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park, even takes on a life of its own.
Photographed by Clint Spaulding / Patrick McMullan.com
It’s high time for a tip of the hat to our fearless MOTH photographer Patrick McMullan, no slouch in the dressing department in his own right. He makes it look easy, but we honestly don’t know how he keeps up the pace.
Welcome to the MOTH makeover edition. Rather than an award for a single outfit, this one goes to Tom Hanks for his recent transformation from Tinseltown schlub to one of Hollywood’s best-dressed men.
Up until the past few months, it was strictly sack suits and Today’s Man looks for the hapless Hanks, when he could even be bothered to wear a tie. When Hanks started turning out extra nattily, we quickly detected the hand of Machiavellian style master (and MOTH mainstay) Tom Ford, whose new ad campaign is causing such a ruckus. Ford prescribed well-cut suits and elegant ties with bespoke details in classic monochromatic palettes worthy of Cary Grant.
This is a MOTH won by dint of sheer overwhelming effort on the part of quirky R.E.M. frontman Michael Stipe. Simply put, Stipe staggered us with the most impressive example of layering we’ve come across all season—and trust us, the competition was fierce.
At the New York premiere of Be Kind Rewind the other night, Stipe wore all of the following»
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Cuban painter, sculptor, illustrator, chronicler and critic Ruben Toledo is in an enviable position for a well-dressed man about town: his wife Isabel is a fashion designer who frequently whips up bespoke threads in their sprawling loft-cum-atelier hidden atop a turn-of-the-century building.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
At the house of Bill Blass, where he was recently installed as creative director, young designer Peter Som is overseeing the women’s line (Michael Bastian has control of menswear). But Som, who worked for the late Mr. Blass himself after graduating from the Parsons School of Design and who debuted his own collection in 2001, is no sartorial slouch.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
At some imprecise moment over the last decade or so, Lou Reed morphed from groundbreaking rock’n’roll genius and primogenitor of everything cool into a scrawny, wrinkle-necked old man in outlandish clothing. There must have come a moment when Reed, who turns 66 next week, realized that the good old black leather motorcycle jacket was no longer appropriate on a man of his years. That was fine as far as it went; but instead of deciding to dress his age - which of course need entail no sacrifice of style - he made the classic mistake of dressing like a much younger man; practically a teenager, and a partially lobotomized one to boot.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
While he may have dressed multiple MOTHs (four to date) as well as James Bond, every so often we’re reminded that Tom Ford is really his own best model. In the same sort of way that a restaurant with an absentee owner never seems quite right, Ford’s clothes come across so well precisely because they’ve been road tested and perfected by the man himself, who just happens to be one of the most stylish men on the planet.
The other night at the opening of a new wing at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art»
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Fiat heir and Agnelli scion Lapo Elkann has experienced a lot of ups and downs in his 30 years. Once destined to succeed his legendary grandfather Gianni Agnelli, Lapo’s career trajectory came to a crashing halt when he overdosed in the apartment of a transsexual hooker in Turin in 2005. He has since sobered up (according to some reports) and moved to New York after the lukewarm launch of a sunglasses line called Italia Independent.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
One thing we always look forward to during Fashion Week is the daily appearance of Hamish Bowles, Vogue’s European editor-at-large — not to mention an impeccably-plumed peacock who was one of our original MOTHs.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Waris Ahluwalia is much more than just the cool Indian guy in the Wes Anderson movies; he’s also a jewelry designer and one of the best-dressed men in town, though people tend to focus on the turban and not his threads.
The other night a Purple magazine Fashion Week party at Paul Sevigny’s crypto-swank Beatrice Inn, his favorite haunt, Waris bowled us over in a bespoke brown, green and burgundy flecked herringbone wool tweed suit with a forest green wool waistcoat and a crimson knitted wool tie: a perfectly balanced and seasonal palette that’s as warming to look upon as it must be to wear.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
So far Fashion Week has been pretty much of a disappointment sartorially; blame it on the morons who decided to hold the thing in the middle of February, when inclement weather dictates that one must choose comfort over style, like it or not. Still, we’ve seen a couple of standouts at the various shows and parties; first up, natty Nigel Barker, the London-born photographer and America’s Next Top Model judge, pictured here at the Betsey Johnson show with fashion maven Mary Alice Stephenson.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We have always regarded idiosyncratic impresario Andre 3000 (née Andre Benjamin) as one of the most stylish men in modern music. A fitting heir to Jimi Hendrix in many ways, it’s felicitous that Benjamin (who has several acting credits to his name) has long had a Hendrix biopic in the works. Now he’s branching out into fashion with his own line called Benjamin Bixby, inspired by 1930s football players.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The admirable cause of saving the High Line on Manhattan’s West Side might have only gotten so far on merit alone; what really put it over the top were all the fabulous fetes and benefits held to raise money for the daunting task of converting it into a public park and promenade (and possibly the only safe vantage point for viewing the Meat Packing District on some nights). High Line booster Bronson van Wyck (as in the Expressway named for his ancestors), is the event planner extraordinaire who donated his serves to the cause.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Out of all the Hollywood heavies stalking the red carpet at the 14th Annual SAG Awards the other night, bearded Canuck Ryan Gosling stood out for his superlative sartoriality.
Gosling, a Chet Baker fan and accomplished jazz guitarist in his own right, sported one of those signature Tom Ford single-breasted, peak-lapel three-piece suits we’ve been musing on lately, in a new incarnation. His was a steel-hued silk and linen herringbone number with oversized patch pockets, worn with a white-collared tan and gray checked shirt and black leather shoes also from Ford’s closet. Adorning his lapel was a special tribute to unfortunate pal Heath Ledger in the form of a black ribbon designed by his sister Mandi, Gosling’s date for the evening.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Scottish actor and parfumeur Alan Cumming has always been one of the more interestingly-dressed Hollywood types treading the red carpet. While a little theatrical for our taste at times, he often pulls off a nod to showmanship while still managing to be the best-dressed man in the room. Such was the case at the Italian Trade Commission’s Made In Italy cocktail party hosted by Isabella Rossellini the other night.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
It was merely a matter of time ‘till Andrew Saffir snagged his first MOTH. Saffir, one of the best-dressed men in town, is also one of the most visible; he hosts some of the hottest movie premieres in the city as founder of the chic Cinema Society.
At a dinner for Marie Claire magazine at Milk Studios the other night, the former Ralph Lauren exec and Hamptons habitué turned out in a haute hacking jacket and cargo pants combo that radiated sporty elegance.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
It’s officially the season of the single-breasted peak lapel suit—which suits us just fine. Once solely confined to the realm of bespoke, this snappy style dating from the 1920s has enjoyed a revival of late, as our two newest MOTHs can attest.
On the heels of Josh Brolin and his dapper D&G number comes Matthew Broderick in an equally alluring black birdseye wool model, worn to the premiere of David Mamet’s new political play November the other night. Like Brolin, Broderick eschewed a necktie, opting instead for a signature stripe Paul Smith scarf, the stylishness of which we can personally attest to since the very same model is often found adorning our own neck this time of year.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Josh Brolin was named after Steve McQueen’s character in 1958’s Wanted: Dead or Alive; consciously or not, he seems to be living up to the name. Like McQueen, he’s a rugged fellow who races cars in his spare time, and now he’s picking up something of the legendary King of Cool’s style as well.
At the National Board of Review Awards gala the other night (where he rubbed shoulders with fellow MOTH Julian Schnabel), Brolin stood out, but subtly so, in a two-button, single-breasted peak lapel suit in lightweight wool from Dolce & Gabbana’s fall collection, with a texturally interesting diagonal weave and flat-front trousers.
Sooner or later it had to happen: the rest of the world is discovering Moss Lipow, the brilliant, eccentric eyewear designer/historian who’s been a closely-guarded secret of the cognoscenti for years. The New York-based, self-taught fashionista (he attended film school at NYU) is a darling of high-end design aficionados for his one-of-a-kind creations, such as the sci-fi-style metal specs pictured here, made for a Vogue China shoot. He also produced the most expensive sunglasses ever, crafted of alligator and ostrich skin with a $3,800 pricetag.
Back before they turned into the geriatric juggernaut that seems to be on a never-ending world tour, the Rolling Stones were the coolest rock band in the universe. In 1969, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and the gang crisscrossed the country in support of their album Beggar’s Banquet, culminating in the infamous free concert at Altamont in Northern California where Hell’s Angels killed a member of the audience.
Photographer Ethan Russell was with them every step of the way »
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Look sharp, men, the competition is heating up—we have our second repeat MOTH on the heels of Daniel Day-Lewis’ landmark victory last week. The first time around, dandified Los Angeles-based vintage clothing mogul Cameron Silver caught our attention with a green velvet Gucci suit and custom croc loafers. At the Art of Elysium benefit gala in L.A. the other night he went one better in a custom-made toile dinner jacket that blew the lid off the staid black tie crowd.
This is shaping up to be a banner year for one of our favorite women in the world: Danish model/artist/actress/director Rie Rasmussen. The likes of GQ can keep their Jennifer Anistons and Jessica Biels; here at Kempt we go for brainy, over-achieving beauties in the Carla Bruni mold rather than the mindless meat puppets of prime time (but we digress).
Rie first made her mark as a Victoria’s Secret siren in 2001 »
The latest news from the front regarding the Brad and Angelina of the international set has it that they may have already tied the knot. French daily L’Est Republicain is quoting a reliable source close to someone who claims to have attended our boy Nic’s secret nuptials last week at the Elysée palace. Apparently he sealed the deal with supermodel Carla Bruni after presenting her with a $30,000 white gold Dior ring.
Photography: Patrick McMullan
Here’s a hint: When Thom Browne’s clothes start to look a little ridiculous on Thom Browne, it’s obviously time to start dressing like adults again. At the unveiling of Repetto shoes’ 60th Anniversary traveling exhibition hosted by Mo‚àö¬¥t & Chandon at the Max Lang gallery the other night, Browne in his trademark shrunken ensemble resembled nothing so much as the Frankenstein monster from one of those old-fashioned horror flicks, whose clothes fit him much the same way.
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.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The New York Times may feel no affection for it, but Brad Pitt seems solidly behind the three-piece suit surge judging by what he wore to the 13th Annual Critics’ Choice Awards in L.A. the other night. Of course there are two mitigating factors: a) he’s Brad Pitt, and b) his threads are by Tom Ford.
In other words, he doesn’t give a shit if some twit from the Times advises him to “ditch the suit.”»
Just as designers and the likes of GQ try to convince men to get back into three-piece suits this season, the trend-happy New York Times Styles section is taking the contrarian route, advising readers to forego the whole hog and simply sport the vest.
Harper’s Bazaar
The mixed returns from the Iowa caucuses and the New Hampshire primary have put all the candidates at high alert as their see-saw returns have force them to go on the offensive, pointing out each other’s differences and shortcomings. Strangely, the frontrunners—no matter their location along the political spectrum have one thing in common: Nadja Auermann. Who’da thunk it?
The Politics of Fashion—Harper’s Bazaar (Hosted on Livejournal)
The 100-year-old company that invented the rugby shirt has something to say about Ralph Lauren’s attempted hijacking of the game. Canterbury of New Zealand, established in 1904, made the first rugby jersey for a friend of one of the founders, an avid player. The rest was sartorial history. Fast forward to 2005, when Lauren launched his Rugby line replete with skull and crossbones imagery lifted from the team insignia of British educational landmark the Rugby School, where the sport was first played in 1823.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Among the many things Snoop Dogg is known—or perhaps we should say notorious—for, sartorial splendor isn’t really numbered among them. But we had to hand the man a MOTH for the threads he sported at the 13th Annual Critics’ Choice Awards in L.A. the other night. Eschewing the usual barfy bling of the rap star set, Snoop (pictured here with his wife Shante Broadus) pulled off an ensemble that was both eye-catching and classic at the same time.
Anchoring the look was a black four-button velvet Dolce & Gabbana frock coat with satin trim »
Our boy Nic sure is one fast mover. But then we guess when you’re president of France there’s no time to fuck around. Just two short weeks after we first told you that the Nicster was shacking up with supermodel Carla Bruni, one of the world’s most beautiful women and a talented singer to boot, weekly paper Le Journal De Dimanche is reporting that the couple plans to marry early next month.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We would never have guessed it, but quirky actor Daniel Day-Lewis has garnered the much-coveted distinction of becoming the first fellow ever to be named MOTH more than once. At the New York Film Critics Circle Awards the other night where he picked up Best Actor honors for There Will Be Blood, Day-Lewis was dashing in a custom-made charcoal grey double-breasted chalkstripe suit, worn with a tattersall shirt, subtly spotted silver silk tie, and brown suede shoes, Duke of Windsor-style.
Note to GQ readers: think twice before following the advice on three-piece suits in the January issue too closely. While we’re all for the return of vested interests, proper tailoring is absolutely essential when it comes to adding the extra element. You do not want your shirt and tie peeking out between the vest and trousers, and nor should your waistband be on public view, as has happened to GQ’s unfortunate model pictured here. Without a smooth, uninterrupted vest-to-trouser transition, “the entire elegance of a three-piece suit is destroyed,” as the great Alan Flusser notes. For this reason, low-slung pants, as on display in GQ, do not work on a three-piece, and belt loops have no place here either; side tabs are preferable, and braces are of course the classic choice.
The Man in White may have been robbed of his rightful place on GQ’s “50 Most Stylish Men of the Past 50 Years” list, but his new book deal will buy a lot of consolation trips to the tailor. Tom Wolfe just pocketed nearly $7 mil in advance money for his next novel, Back to Blood, about “class, family, wealth, race, crime, sex, corruption, and ambition in Miami, the city where America’s future has arrived first.”
The January issue of Esquire does its readers a grave disservice in the innocent guise of giving advice about getting one’s ladyfriends liquored up. In its typical smarmy, overly-verbose style, the magazine’s “Man At His Best” section offers a primer on cognac, capped with the following: “The January Dilemma No. 1: Your Date, Though Curious, Doesn’t Want to Sip Cognac Neat.” It goes on to suggest feeding the unsuspecting female an emetic concoction consisting of cognac and cr‚àö¬Æme de menthe. They don’t give it a name, but we think “The Ipecac” suits it perfectly. The mag also inexplicably counsels readers to use perfectly good Rémy Martin Louis XIII for the mixture, which at $1,500+ per bottle is a little pricey to be dumping a bunch of mouthwash into.
Memo to gossip goblin Perez Hilton: no matter how much glitter you smear around your eye bags, gynecomastia is not a good look. What exactly, may we ask, induced you to dress this way for Svedka’s New Year’s Eve party at the Gansevoort?
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.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
In our never-ending quest to improve the entertainment industry’s sartorial standards, we’re glad to see that somewhat scruffy Entourage star Adrian Grenier is stepping up his style. At a charity ball he hosted to raise money for building wells in Africa the other night, Grenier looked quite dashing in a bespoke Duncan Quinn creation.
Sixties star Steve McQueen’s rugged sportiness, authenticity and innate good taste are such that the likes of Ralph Lauren and Michael Kors have built whole collections around his stylistic legacy (yes, he’s the reason you’re wearing that shawl-collared sweater).
They and other fashion folk routinely pore over photos of the “King of Cool” for inspiration. And while a superb new book of pix—McQueen’s Machines: The Cars and Bikes of a Hollywood Icon—focuses
mainly on his automotive pursuits, they were such a major part of the actor’s panache this one’s no doubt destined for designers’ libraries as well.
It appears that the “brutal” new James Bond is something of a prima donna. At the cover shoot for GQ’s December Men of the Year issue, deconstructed 007 Daniel Craig refused to wear any of the designer duds the magazine’s fashion mavens picked out for him, insisting instead on a suit of his own. Having caught wind of the clothing contretemps, we asked GQ’s Adam Rapoport, who wrote the Craig cover story, what went down.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
At Marquee these days where he mans the velvet rope he’s known simply as the “The Hammer,” but anyone who’s frequented NYC hotspots for the past decade recognizes Wass Stevens as one of the most provocatively-dressed dudes wherever he happens to be. An actor by day with a burgeoning CV, the former boxer and assistant district attorney favors the custom creations of Ron & Ron, which combine “class with a hint of rogue”, mixed in with select A-list label pieces.
One of our favorite lingerie purveyors just celebrated its 50th anniversary in high style, and we feel it would be a gross dereliction of duty not to show you this picture of theirs in commemoration. La Perla ushered in its sixth decade of gloriously under-dressing women of taste worldwide the other night with a festive fete at their Madison Avenue boutique.
When it’s this wintry outside, the best thing to do is grab your girl and a bottle of the good stuff and just stay home for once with some great tunes. Thankfully three of the most stylish men in music—two living and one, alas, dead—have obliged with a trio of need-to-hear new box sets: Elvis Costello (pictured), Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke and Nick Drake, who overdosed in 1974.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve been keeping an eye on the dapper Derrick Miller and his brother Kirk since they started their very sharp shoe line Barker Black back in 2005. Derrick, a veteran of Ralph Lauren’s design studio, describes his personal style as “sophisticated, with a touch of fuck you.” We couldn’t have said it better ourselves. The Millers love to blend their own designs with tailor-tweaked thrift store finds—as Derrick puts it, “all the favorite things in my closet I paid less than 30 bucks for.”
Kempt Kudos to our boy Nicolas Sarkozy, the fashion-savvy President of France who one-upped George Bush during a black-tie affair at the White House last month.
Sarkozy, who split from his wife a while back, was spotted out on the town with supermodel-turned-singer Carla Bruni (pictured) the other night in Paris—thereby
proving the ZZ Top coinage (and Sartorial Brotherhood credo) “Every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp-dressed man.”
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We were first drawn to the turn of the century Texas oil flick There Will Be Blood by the tweedy wardrobe of its star Daniel Day-Lewis. Very Freeman’s Sporting Club, we thought.
And how apropos for the Times to subsequently declare the return of tweed—yet another of those things that never really went anywhere to begin with, as far as we’re concerned.
Yes, champagne at New Year’s has gotten a bit tiresome, but don’t switch to controlled substances just yet—Veuve Cliquot has hit on a way to brighten things up.
We’ve always loved the mandarin orange label on the bottles, which the company calls yellow for some reason; they’re so damned natty. Someone we know (cough, cough) once even had his dining room painted to match. To celebrate the House of Cliquot’s 130th anniversary they’ve just released a limited edition 3-liter “Yellowboam” (a play on Jeroboam), equivalent to four regular bottles.
We’ve often wondered where impeccably-tailored restaurateur Jack Lamb gets his togs; naturally we assumed he zips over to London to patronize one of the hipper Savile Row offshoots. The extra flair in his ensembles should have tipped us off however to the hand of New York’s own Duncan Quinn, whose clothes are “constructed to celebrate days of glory and nights of excess.”
There’s something about Miami, the badly-dressed epicenter of the Northern Hemisphere, that seems to affect even the most sensible of men. Take Glenn O’Brien, the weathered and usually well-put together “Style Guy” of GQ fame.
The waiting list on a wicked new 420 h.p. $130,000+, all wheel drive Audi R8 is running at least six months, but if you’re quick on the draw you can snag one this week at an auction courtesy of Bergdorf Goodman. Of course you’ll pay a premium—the bidding starts at $160,000—but then this is no ordinary Audi, and you have to factor in the inestimable value of getting one up on the Joneses.
For starters, the R8 in question is customizable to the winner’s specifications »
Photography: Patrick McMullan
Curiously-coiffed Vanity Fair editor E. Graydon Carter has finally revealed the secret to Spy magazine’s success—and no, it wasn’t the invention of snark.
As we might have guessed, the key lay in looking the part. “Because we were small and because we were scrappy, I made a very conscious effort to wear a suit and tie to work every day,” Carter tells the London Guardian in a just-published profile. “You can get away with a lot more if you look like a junior part of the establishment than if you look like a renegade.”
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Few actors personify cool as well as Willem Dafoe. Even an otherwise cheesy action flick is elevated by his quirky, quietly menacing presence. Usually he gets stuck playing the bad guy, but there are worse things to be stuck doing. At the 21st anniversary bash for Italian designer Ennio Capasa’s Costume National line the other night, Dafoe sported a classic combo with refined, modern details that set him above the basic black pack.
The good old-fashioned Zippo lighter is as much a part of any American male’s essential kit as a navy blazer or a decent pair of loafers. Though the ones we’ve collected over the years have been relegated to a dresser drawer since we stopped smoking some years ago, we like to think of them as more than mere reminders of a misspent youth. Our favorite, in well-burnished sterling silver, still sees service on special occasions when there are ladies present whose cigarettes require fire.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Johnny Depp has come up with some pretty iffy outfits in the past, and yet he’s always managed to do so with a certain panache that saved the day, sartorially. Nonetheless, we far prefer it when he takes a more classic approach, as he did with brilliant results as the premiere of his new movie Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street this week.
Michael Caine is one of the most stylish men in cinema, so it figures that he has good taste in music. The English actor, who’s won two Oscars and was knighted by the Queen in 2000, recently issued a saccharine compilation CD in the UK of his favorite mellow tunes, called Cained; the disc, which contains everything from Nina Simone to Doctor Rockit, is now available on Amazon as an import.
Apparently the project came about after Caine mentioned to his fellow Commander of the British Empire Sir Elton John that he frequently makes mixed tapes for friends like Sir Sean Connery, Sir Roger Moore and Baron Lloyd-Weber. With the penchant the design cabal has for seizing on anything this coolly quirky, you can count on Cained providing the soundtrack to more than one event during that men’s fashion week everyone’s babbling about.
Would you pay $30,000 for a bottle of Scotch? The folks at Christie’s are hoping somebody will at what is certainly an auspicious occasion: the first auction of rare spirits in New York since Prohibition began in 1920, taking place this Saturday at their Rockefeller Center HQ. Read more »
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Being married to Madonna must be no picnic, even for a rough and tumble type like Guy Ritchie. He started out as your average yob, then she got him involved in all that quasi-religious claptrap in L.A. and he had to trail around after her in white velour tracksuits carrying the Kabbalah Water.
Since moving back to his native British countryside, however…
Now that the weather feels like Manchester, we thought it appropriate to chime in on the much ballyhooed Ian Curtis biopic Control. While The Clash’s Joe Strummer worked hard to achieve style icon status, Joy Division frontman Curtis only really reached his posthumously—and even then to a much lesser degree. Of course, since he killed himself in 1980 at the age of 23, he didn’t get much of a chance. But rakish rock’n’roll photographer Anton Corbijn goes some way toward setting the record straight in his supercool film.
There have been plenty of books devoted to James Bond over the years, most of them written for the kind of guys whose idea of a hot time is debating the relative merits of Holly Goodhead vs. Pussy Galore. 007 has never gotten the kind of visual treatment he deserves—odd for a fellow so focused on style.
The beautiful new James Bond Encyclopedia sets that to rights.»
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Kilian Hennessy embodies that old chestnut about life not being fair. The dashing Sorbonne grad is the grandson of the founder of the LVMH Group and the heir to a long line of “luxury pioneers.” You should have seen all the well-bred babes fawning over him at the launch of his new By Kilian fragrance collection, L’Oeuvre Noir, the other night at Bergdorf’s. And unlike us, he will never, ever, run out of cognac.
That a fellow like this should be extremely well-dressed to boot comes as no surprise we suppose »
With someone like Harland Miller who’s equally talented as an author and painter, it’s only fitting that his best work should be inspired by books. The Brit wunderkind, whose atmospheric homages to iconic Penguin paperback covers are also instant classics, presents a visual (and visually appealing) narrative of a man’s life through the books he’s read. Small wonder that one of his biggest fans is Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker, one of the smartest, coolest and most stylish cats on the planet.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan
Well-dressed men in a dressed-down town like Hollywood are something of a rarity. Dandies on the order of Cameron Silver, owner of A-list vintage clothing emporium Decades, are practically an endangered species. The 6’3” fashion plate, pictured here with Debbie Mazar, showed his colors at a party for Boucheron’s Animaux jewelry colllection to benefit L.A.’s Museum of Contemporary Art earlier this week.
We know you’ve been meaning to acquire all sorts of esoteric Scotch knowledge so no one laughs anymore when you try to pronounce “Islay.” There’s a way to look like you know your way around the Inner Hebrides however without losing sleep over it. Compass Box, a no-nonsense artisanal Brit whiskymaker, bypasses the mumbo jumbo in favor of a simple statement expressing the character of the spirit: take our favorite from their core range, the smoked-out Peat Monster.
Now Compass Box is broadening its offerings on our side of the sink…
Some say Slim Aarons was a terrible snob. The lanky lensman once declared he was only really interested in photographing “attractive people doing attractive things in attractive places.”
But you know what? That’s all we usually feel like looking at.
Photography: Patrick McMullan
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan
This marks the first, but by no means the last, MOTH appearance for Hamish Bowles, the dashing Brit writer, editor and style guru who’s one of the best dressed men in the world. His impeccable bespoke suits—some day we hope to wrest from him the name of his tailor—are always accompanied by eye-popping shirt and tie combinations, offset by the ever-present insouciant forelock and bold tortoiseshell eyeglasses.
Ever since the recent debut of venerable Madison Avenue clothier Paul Stuart’s dandified, crypto-modern Phineas Cole line, we’ve been trying to place the clothes—and the name. Where had we come across such a combination before…?
Few rock bands have had a greater influence on the cultural landscape than The Clash. Trying to trace all the evidence of their inspiration on fashion alone would be a Herculean task, but their influence on modern menswear can be seen in the designs of everyone from Helmut Lang to Hedi Slimane.
The Clash’s frontman, Joe Strummer, who died in 2002, was responsible for most of what made them great. You can see how it all went down in punk auteur Julien Temple’s excellent new documentary, Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten—and maybe pick up a few style tips of your own.
Strummer was a genius with color and contrast for one thing; after all, this is the guy who mixed preppy pink and green with an iconic punk rock photograph on the cover of London Calling.
Photography: Patrick McMullan
We’ve never paid a whole lot of attention to Grey’s Anatomy star Patrick Dempsey, but from the evidence at hand he seems to be one of those fellows who matures well, like a good bottle of Bordeaux. Always a pretty snappy dresser, at 41 he’s finally coming into his own, style-wise.
After a close shave with obsolescence, things are looking up for Savile Row. Ozwald Boateng’s new 6,800-sq.ft. store opening there next month heralds the beginning of what many hope will be a new era for the beleaguered “bespoke couturiers,” who have banded together with local government and landlords to keep the spiritual home of British tailoring alive, Time magazine reports.
Pop quiz: What has a $500 price tag, its own velvet-lined suitcase and more melons than the fruit aisle at Whole Foods? Playboy: The Complete Centerfolds, the new 720-page, 32-pound limited edition due out from Chronicle Books on Thanksgiving Day.
Hugh Hefner has been fulfilling male fantasies with a heavy dose of fromage since 1953, and he’s probably bedded the lion’s share of the 600-plus pinups inside—and paid for plenty of implants along the way.
Photography: Patrick McMullan
There were plenty of young bucks in the fashion biz sporting ‘creative’ black tie at the CFDA/Vogue 7th on Sale gala the other night. But Ralph Lauren left ‘em all in the dust. His ensemble consisted of an unbuttoned double-breasted dinner jacket over a black cashmere turtleneck, black velvet jodhpurs, black leather riding boots and a black calfskin equestrian-style belt with a silver clasp and buckles. The effect was pure Errol Flynn. More on Ralph…
Photo by Patrick McMullan
Kempt Kudos to Paul Sevigny, dapper DJ brother of Chloe and proprietor of the secretly swank Beatrice Inn for turning away a shabbily-dressed patron on purely aesthetic grounds the other night. The rejectee as it turns out was Google co-founder Larry Page, who could buy and sell a city full of Beatrice Inns with his $18.5 billion. But Sevigny was acting in the grand tradition of the ‘21’ Club, which once turned away Bill Gates for wearing sneakers…Read More…
Welcome to our newest feature, the Kempt Man of the Hour. We’re thrilled to have legendary photographer Patrick McMullan on the Kempt team, keeping an eye—and lens—out for the most stylish men about town on his nightly rounds. We’ll highlight the best of the bunch on a regular basis….
Many of the moneyed crowd at last week’s Guggenheim International Gala wondered who this impeccably dressed young man might be. Turns out he was the evening’s entertainment. Soulful singer/songwriter Ferraby Lionheart has been favorably compared to the late Elliot Smith, and (for once) not without reason; his debut self-titled EP is in our permanent collection. Though his workaday attire is quite a bit more casual, Mr. Lionheart certainly knows how to step up to the occasion…
As Anthony Powell noted, books do furnish a room; here at Kempt, we believe bottles do too. The good-looking ones, that is—keep your shelves well stocked with both and you’ll never lack for something to read or drink. But tequila has so far lagged behind the rest of the spirits world when it comes to attractive packaging…
We’ve heard of watches inspired by cars, but Aston Martin’s new V8 Vantage Roadster may be the first car inspired by a watch. The venerable British sportscar marque has had a long association with Swiss watchmaker Jaeger-LeCoultre, and the stunning new convertible was influenced by the company’s legendary Reverso. Developed for posh polo players in the 1930s, the Reverso, like the Roadster, has “open” and “closed” modes, both equally stylish…
Stylish Swedish garage punks The Hives have traded in their Vegas lounge act look and are channeling Thom Browne for their latest effort, The Black and White Album. We call it a marked improvement, especially as they’ve eschewed Browne’s signature high-water trouserings. The crested boating blazers and striped school ties worn to good effect on the album cover and in the video for the first single, “Tick Tick Boom” are straight out of Browne’s much-ballyhooed Black Fleece collection for Brooks Brothers. And though he’s hardly the first designer to employ such motifs…
It turns out that American Gangster costume designer Janty Yates was being semi-truthful when she said that Denzel Washington wore bespoke Savile Row suits in the flick. “Page Six” notes in passing that Denzel’s dapper duds—some 30 suits, worth well over $100,000—were in fact made by English custom tailor Leonard Logsdail of… East 53rd St. in Manhattan…
References to sex, drugs and rock’n’roll are the mainstay of fashion photography nowadays, but somebody had to think of it first. That man was Bob Richardson, whose “raw” images shocked magazine editors in the early ’60s, when models still wore white gloves and smiled like contented hausfraus in every picture. While Richardson’s acolytes like Bruce Weber, Peter Lindbergh and Steven Meisel went on to fame and fortune by imitating his style, the man himself flamed out, ending up homeless, drug addicted and insane, most of his work lost or destroyed…
With the once almighty dollar laid low, America’s leaders should be looking to bolster the nation’s standing with the international community wherever possible. But during last week’s visit to Washington by French President Nicolas Sarkozy, we were bested once again by a pesky Euro…
Calvin, Ralph and Donna—no last names required—are the indisputable reigning troika of mainstream American fashion design. But not according to Tommy Hilfiger. It’s no secret that Ralph looks at Tommy as a sub-par imitation of himself, while Hilfiger has felt his lack of true acceptance from the fashion firmament keenly…
Filling Salma Hayek’s shoes—or whatever—is no easy task. But here at Kempt our Locks are off to Eva Mendes for her yeoman’s work on Campari’s new calendar for 2008. While Salma’s sexy sortie was cinematic in nature, Italian photographer Marino Parisotto staged Eva in a series of fairly tale-inspired vignettes on location in the quaint town of Rosignano, with help from designers like Roberto Cavalli, Alberta Ferretti and Elie Saab.
Dear GQ:
If you want to defend your precarious position as the né plus ultra of men’s fashion rags, you should put a little more effort into features like “The 50 Most Stylish Men of the Past 50 Years.” Specifically, how in god’s name could you leave out Tom Wolfe? Not to mention Andy Warhol, Frank Sinatra, Johnny Cash…
The lingerie mavens at Brit brand Agent Provocateur have made a good thing out of showing just enough skin to leave us always wanting more. Their narrative ad campaigns, far too racy for prime time, are released in snippets online; for their last one they commissioned Leaving Las Vegas director Mike Figgis to make Kate Moss’ erotic dreams into a series of short films, aired in bits over the past several months. Now they’ve finally compiled the footage along with stills and extras into a limited edition book and DVD package, The 4 Dreams of Miss X…
In American Gangster, Denzel Washington’s up-and-coming Harlem druglord character Frank Lucas eschews the pimp aesthetic in favor of some very sharp suits. On his journey from bumpkin to kingpin, Lucas learns some important sartorial lessons; the quiet, understated elegance of his clothing allows him to pass as a respectable businessman while flashier rivals get picked off by the cops.
—J.P.S.
A man should look as if he has bought his clothes with intelligence, put them on with care—and then forgotten all about them. Such gems of sartorial wisdom are the hallmark of legendary British clothier Sir Hardy Amies’ 1965 classic ABC of Men’s Fashion—regrettably long out of print. Until now, that is. It’s just been re-issued thanks to a major new fashion exhibition at London’s Victoria & Albert Museum, and men everywhere can benefit from such a stylish lexicon.
Every facet of the well-dressed fellow’s wardrobe is represented, together with a few acid remarks (see Fat Men and Short Men). Hell, Sir Hardy earned a bit of stuffiness; the dashing designer was a British secret agent before setting up shop at 14 Savile Row in 1946, and he went on to design costumes for both Stanley Kubrick and the Queen of England.
—J.P.S.
