Maxminimus: Gary Cooper

Showing posts with label Gary Cooper. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Trad-Ivy Tuesday: The Soft—Unpinned Collar

“If it’s not a button down, I’m not interested.” This was my mantra from the time I was old enough to buy my own shirts ‘till I was close to thirty years old. Until then, I had no interest in a straight collar, a modified spread or anything…other than a button down.

The Trad Mother Church that I worked in offered one basic style of a straight collar shirt but I never took notice of it. Seems to me that the local preachers preferred it. Our highest volume stock in trade was courtesy of Gant and it was always oxford cloth button down…at nineteen dollars a go. I can’t find a photo of it and I am not dreaming this one up…Gant had a deep, almost orange-ish yellow called maize (surprise I know) that was solely unique to them. It made every other yellow look washed out…not that even the Gant maize color did anyone’s coloring a favor. Ok, I’m digressing.

Why would I need anything other than a button down? My clothing line-up until age thirty consisted totally of single breasted, single vented, mostly 3/2 rolled clothing. The exception was an occasional from the outlets, Ralph rig that might have been double vented. But peaked lapels, sleeve cuffs and double breasted rigs, even though just around the corner, weren’t yet part of my oeuvre.

And when they did arrive, the sartorial components that beg for a shirting alternative to the age-old buttoned down standard, whispered to me… “pin it, pin it…” so I complied. The cinched and secured, elevated visual stance of a well dimpled tie was enough to keep me devoted to the pinned-collar-code to this day. Plus, I could never seem to pull off the unpinned look. Sure, when I did, the unwashed masses would have never known that I was falling short of the mark. But I did. And that’s all that mattered.

Here’s my one exception to the rule where I’m actually comfortable with the outcome. But the tie clasp offers the grounding and securitization that for some reason I think I need. But others through the years have done the unpinned collar rather well. Here’s a few

Sir Henry Cotton

John P. Marquand does it but this look is just too sloppy for me.

Acheson does it but his vest supplies the cinched tie arc that makes this anything but relaxed.

Gable. Strong as nine rows of spring onions.

Scott. Unpinned.

Bobby Jones

Gary Cooper

And here’s my buddy G. Bruce Boyer manifesting Ivy-Trad-Tweed-Cord Sprezzatura all-to-be-damned. Folks, this is about as stellar as it gets…relaxed—unstudied wise. With an unbuttoned button down collar. Sublime.

If you’ve read my stuff for any length of time, you know that this photo of my pimply faced teenage dad is one that still provokes scores of unanswered questions. Fear not, I won’t take you back down that maudlin path again. Suffice it to say that I remain intrigued by the unrequited genesis of his style.

And when LFG and I were home last June, I found this photo of my dad. How do farm boys in Horry County, South Carolina develop this level of style? Soft, unpinned collar and some swanky bit of neckwear to bring it full circle. This looks kinda Ralph before Ralph. Suffice it to say that I never got the hang of pulling together this unpinned, soft collared casual look. My dad was rocking it at ten.

Amidst the previous photo of my father was this one. Looks like some kind of corporate head shot thing for the files. My mom had no answer regarding the photo so that puts me at a complete loss as well. I remained a company man for thirteen years before starting my own gig. My dad lasted about thirteen minutes, listening to others, before he started his. Maybe this was his exit photo. Whatever the case…as much as I love the photo booth shot of my dad, this one doesn’t trip my trigger. Full Windsor knot and an unpinned collar. It’s just not my thing.

So here’s my final verdict on the unpinned, soft collar. I’m neutral. If you can pull the look off, then I suppose that it’s ok. I prefer a tightened up, fountainhead arc of a well dimpled tie preening above a pin. It could be a karmic thing for me, I don’t know. I tried the unpinned caution-to-the-wind collar when last I needed a new driver’s licence. The outcome’s above. Case closed. At least for me.

Onward.

ADG, II

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Gary Cooper—Enduring Style

I always knew that Gary Cooper was an all ‘round good guy. And for us clothes nuts, Cooper, usually courtesy of Alan Flusser, has always made the pages of sartorial testimony. As an exhibit of course, of one who knew how to wear clothes. And he did.

I’m sure I’ve construed and contrived…contorted and embellished for my own clothes loving amusement…Alan Flusser’s little story about Cooper buying fabrics and taking them to Malibu for aging-fading-patinating in the sun…before taking them to the tailor for some kind of assembly. After reading Enduring Style, I have more circumstantial evidence to believe the story. For Gary Cooper too; loved clothes.

It’s no secret that lots of Gary Cooper’s clothes originated on Savile Row. And of course you’ll get a good dose of that evidence in Enduring Style.

But what you’ll really get—courtesy of the fact that these are Cooper family photos, is overwhelming evidence that like Astaire, Cooper also had the necessary duende to be equally elegant when kitted out in accessories that might have been picked up at Woolworth's.

I’ve settled on what I’ll call Cooper’s “England-Montana” antecedents as the basis for his personal strategy.

Born to British parents and raised in what had to have been back then and probably remains, a neck of the woods that bred self reliance. Self reliance and subsequently, a measure of gravitas balanced with not taking oneself too seriously. Montana was an adolescent twelve year old State when Gary Cooper joined it.

His aura and essence of down to earth American gravitas riding shotgun with a reserved elegance that could only be helped by being six feet-three inches tall—five feet of which seemed to be legs. Like me. Shut up.

In some ways it’s rather sad to be impressed with people who accomplish some rather standard things. The bar these days is so low for certain performances that when you see an above average example, it seems like an unassisted triple play.

You know…like getting married only once and evolving that initial connection into a symbiotic partnership that stands…that withstands…especially when Hollywood and the movie business are environmental swathings that shroud the effort.

And to have years later, an adult daughter who isn’t in need of writing Crawford-esque Mommy Dearest exposés to cleanse her Hollywood childhood demons. Coop lived an honorable life in-full and its right here for your viewing, in Enduring Style.

Bruce Boyer and Cooper’s daughter Maria have done a stellar job of assembling Cooper family pictures and annotating it all with worthy insights. And as luck would have it, I’ve missed every one of their book signing parties. Some because I was scheduled elsewhere and a few because I was paid handsomely not to show up. And plenty has already been blogged about this great little book but I wanted my humble three-point-seven cents worth to be on the record as well.

I also enjoyed reacquainting myself with Bruce Boyer’s words and his writing style. God and everyone knows, photo courtesy of the blogosphere, that the man has unparalleled personal and sartorial style. But his ability to string a phrase exceeds even his sartorial gifts. There are some writers whose words I so enjoy reading that I’ll blow through whatever they scribe. Boyer has that gift and of course, I’m always keen on a sartorial back story.

Reading Enduring Style prompted me to pull Boyer’s 1985 book, Elegance, off my shelf. And I enjoyed reorienting myself to the man who’s lead many a sartorial treatise at Town and Country, GQ, Esquire, The Rake and scores of other publications through the years. I urge you to get a copy of Enduring Style but I’d also have you consider adding Boyer’s Elegance to your sartorial library as well.

The Cooper book is one of those that I’ll use like a select half-dozen others in my home. I’ve now read it cover to cover and will grab it from time to time…just to get a transient bolus dose of visual comfort. A glimpse at a man and an era when style and gravitas were things that occurred in a man or woman as a by-product of whom and what they were…of what they believed, felt and lived by. Style and gravitas as a result, not intent.

Onward. At five feet-three inches tall—one foot of which seems to be my damn legs. With broken molars and root canals and porcelain implants gobbling up all of my 2012 fun money. It hurts. And it ain’t funny. Shut up.

ADG II

*I borrowed, as usual, photos from all over the Internet to contrive this little yarn. If I’ve stepped on the toes of any of you sensitive types… Do please, let me know.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Back To School

Still no time to write the Pulitzer-esque…Bowdoin Prize-worthy…angst thread-woven, or as Cheever said to Cavett… stories “of young men who’ve lost their mothers then deciding to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel” blog stories. But I did want to say hello. Mostly because I know that you miss LFG.

We’ve had a grand summer and I’m nothing short of depressed that it’s over. So for these past few weeks I’ve been…