Afternoon Style Mongers. Admit was riveted to The Apprentice the other night. The whole thing. Much appeal comes from watching an old Cockney Herbert hustler be utterly vile, blunt and militant to a phalanx of pillocks. What’s not to love there? Other questions are thrown up. Where do they recruit such idiots from? Have the competitors never seen how badly predecessors came over, or did they think that was perhaps positive? This is one TV production stitch-up am in approval of. Its almost a public service exposure of this level of mug-ishness. Their lingua franca is like a point by point guide of what not to say anywhere, never mind in business. There are other important errors flagged up, not least in the sartorial department.
Pocket square ubiquity has reached epidemic pedestrian levels, and this joker-showcase proves it. If they’re banging them out in Burton/Topman and this lot are snapping them up, its time to move on, no? This lot seem to favour big sateen affairs deployed in manner of napkins on a Newport wedding dinner table setting. Am guilty of pushing pocket fancies myself, big time, and I’ll even drop one now and then, but its time to swerve the pocket flourish on whole, or drop altogether, right? At least Bobby G didn’t do both buttons up, like Bullet Cartwright below, who got the first bullet from Suralan. Full-buttoning is the mark of the sartorial savage.
Cartwright’s solid-pewter suit could not save him from the show’s signature seat-belted exit. Hate the seat belt scenes. Back seat seat-belts are totes humiliating. I’d refuse on this element alone. They should sack all full buttoning belt merchants in episode one and have done. “Your poor huddled masses, let’s club ‘em to death and get it over with and just dump ‘em on the boulevard” to quote dearest Lou.
Then there’s the house of Windsor. Here’s the rule on Windsor knots. They are never okay. They’re so, so white goods-retail-management-Nokia-ringtone-esque. No offence the John Lewis Massive, but am talking bout you.
Then there’s tie bars: Tie hardware of choice for a nation of Alpha-bellends. I’ve got couple. I wore them ’bout 12 years ago. I hold my hands up, but that was before most style men had even got their head round wearing tailoring, let alone fabrics that weren’t grey/navy wool. If anyone wants my tie bars they need to write me a nice Haiku poem about why Madmen is fuckery for dullards, send a SAE and they can have ‘em. More Windsor from the insane-Canadian Steven, who I actually liked for being both so mental and camp at same time: Hil-fucking-aire.
The Apprentice ties are all made from glistening sateen effect cast aluminium, like some sort of Jeff Koon’s pieces, and demonstrate quite explicitly what I was banging on about with the help of Patrick Grant and his E.Tautz ties in HowToSpunkIt last Friday (click). Shiny, silky ties are for people who would go on The Apprentice. Case rested.
Daniel Mango-Half -Sugar Lassi.
Dan’s double-buttoned and he hasn’t fastened his tie properly to the top. Does it matter? Prob’ not. But a tie is a statement of discipline. Its forcing the fabric to do what you want and to stay put against its will, demonstrating man’s mastery over it. Lassi is slipping. These men are all getting caught slipping on TV. Maybe they never weren’t slipping. Who knows, but there’s more stuff that’s so wrong. I could go on. But I’ve simply gotta go out and meet a Windsor knot about a new dishwasher.
PS. Matching napkin to tie isn’t the dapper ticket either. As for belts with suits, what more can I say but “have you been to a Harvester before?”