Skip to main content

Make It a Double-Breasted Monday!

 The late Duke of Windsor in a double-breasted suit.  The man is still a somewhat problematic figure in British history, but he certainly knew how to dress well (most of the time).

For average guys working to kick up their everyday style several notches, here's a novel suggestion.  Let's rechristen 'Oy Vay Monday' as  'Double-breasted Monday' and leave home in either a double-breasted suit, navy blazer, or sports jacket.  I'll don an Alan Flusser double-breasted sports jacket (midnight navy with a faint mustard windowpane pattern), purchased in a thrift/charity shop two years ago, in a short while myself.

Now, some might sneer, but whether or not the look is deemed currently fashionable, or not, there is no doubt that it is classic and timeless.  And you've got some chutzpah, right?  

A double-breasted jacket also provides a nice change in silhouette from the more typical single-breasted look that reigns in 2014. . .  when men bother to wear suits or jackets at all.  

And if anyone mutters something about dressing like your grandfather, you can simply reply, "Why, yes.  Yes, I do.  Thank you.  My grandfather knew how to present himself well."  That should give 'em something to think about.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

 Hugh Laurie as Bertie Wooster in a nice looking double-breasted number.  Stephen Fry as Gieves doesn't look too shabby either.

 A younger Prince Charles, looking casual and relaxed in a summer, tan double-breasted suit.

The late Cary Grant, who always looked amazing, in another double-breasted suit.  Peaked lapels come into their own with this kind of suit coat or sports jacket.

A much younger Sir Michael Caine in a more somber double-breasted suit.  I prefer, though, to leave the bottom button on a 6/2 jacket undone for a slightly more nonchalant look.


Popular Posts

Avoid Careless Chatter. . .

    E specially about the personal details of our lives.  There is a lot that OUGHT to be kept more private in 2022 than has become the accepted norm for many.  With the conscious and intentional cultivation of classic style in mind, however, we want to avoid oversharing and keep a bit more of ourselves to ourselves.  Exactly what personal information and how much of it to keep private seems to be a slippery concept though.  Here’s my take based on what I was told and observed as a child and young person at home.  Basically, one should keep oneself to oneself in all respects (finances, personal worth, accomplishments, politics, sex, dirty laundry, etc.).  As my late father used to advise when we were very small, and I am talking preschool and kindergarten, there were particular subjects that were not discussed outside the immediate family.  There is a time and place for sharing certain details of one’s life, but most of the time, those should be played very close to the chest,

Chilly Late April Wednesday Attire. . .

    Y ou know, if it is going to remain this cold and blustery, I need about eight inches of snow for some more cross-country skiing.  But since the white stuff is long gone, it was time to fish through the cedar closet down in Zum Stollenkeller and pull out some cold weather attire for a seasonal reboot.   But I decided to forgo the usual gray herringbone jacket from J.  Press (my go-to tweed  sports jacket) and instead opted for this number from Hart, Schaffner, and Marx plus the tan cords that hang on the same hanger, so strenuous mental effort was not required.  Pressed the shirt after tucking in the Young Master last night at 8:30, grabbed these shoes, and socks, and Bob is your mother's brother as they say.   Occasionally gazing through the large library window to my immediate left this morning, and I keep hearing that old Jobim tune drift through my mind this morning (aided by the windmills), as sung by Astrud Gilberto ( together with Leonard Cohen and Paolo Conte, the musi

The Pleasaures of a Well-trained Dog. . .

  A few final photographs from my visit to my sister in Washington, D.C. last week.  These include  one of 'Mr. Beau,' my sister's meticulously trained and truly wonderful Doberman, another of my sister, second cousin, step-father, and yours truly on the steps of the church outside Lexington, North Carolina just after our late mother's interment service, two of me solo at the National Cathedral, and a final one of my sister and me hamming it up during a long evening walk the day before I returned to Michigan. My sister routinely walks to the cathedral, about three blocks from her place, to enjoy the grounds and gardens.  The Bishop's Garden, in particular, is a place she likes to sit for quiet contemplation and internal dialogues with our late maternal grandparents and mother, very much in keeping with the Episcopal side of things.  Our grandfather, who was raised Methodist, became an Episcopalian when he married our grandmother.   Before you ask, I am not sure tha