You’ve picked your color and you’re ready for the fit. First comes the jacket. Never was a suit bought for the pants and repeatedly worn afterwards. Pants are easily adjusted by a tailor, jackets can only have minor improvements. Think of true love: it must be close to just-right at first, with a slight thrill when you put it on, the coup de foudre as the French say.
First off: are you a single-breasted man or a double? While both styles can fit most body types, single-breasted jackets tend to flatter the slim while double-breasted jackets make the broad look mighty. This doesn’t imply being “skinny&” or “fat,” it’s simply about your tits; hence the term “breasted.” Choose the jacket style that you can best fill out—from there you’ll always look best. David Letterman, who can rarely be found not wearing a double-breasted jacket, skirts this rule by sitting behind a desk. Notice how uncomfortable he is during the monologue, fussing with his buttons while standing full-view before the camera.
To those opting for the single-breasted jacket, you’ll have to choose how many buttons you want. One? Hmm. Two? Excellent. And returning in popularity. Three? Certainly good, and was much sought-after in the recent past though it’s now reached near total market saturation. But, still classic, and hopefully always available.
Of course, jackets also come in four-, five-, and six-button styles, each with their own fifteen minutes of fame. Four-button jackets have been sported by everyone from The Beatles to Steve Harvey. Can you sport one? Of course! But no, not this season…
Last, the fit. Like we said before, close to the body, but no wrinkles when you button. Vents, double or single, are preferred to the vent-less jacket that, nine times out of ten, looks like a giant condom from behind. Shoulder pads should be avoided—you’re no linebacker—but a tailor will gouge you if you show up post-purchase and ask him to reduce the heft.
Finally, before we move onto trousers, there is one ticklish in-between: the vest. We can put this simply. If you’re ready to buy a vest, you’re either old enough to sport one or dangerously disillusioned. A good rule of thumb: Alfred Hitchcock looked great in vests. Young Jimmy Stewart looked out of his league. Pick your man.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The Jacket
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