A Suit of a Different Color....

Open most men's wardrobes and you'll find their suit selection tends to look as though it were rendered in grey scale; with the odd blue, khaki or pattern thrown into the mix for days when they're feeling "daring". This austerity is a holdover from the suit's somber Victorian heyday when it emerged as every gentleman's staple attire. While a mid-weight grey suit truly is the men's equivalent of the Little Black Dress and something that will rise to any occasion, sometimes a gentlemen needs to bring some color and attitude into his wardrobe. Dandies looking to venture outside the classic color scheme seem to be in luck this fall as a deep wine red suit has popped up in at least three fall collections over the last month. Keep in mind, though, that when venturing outside the standard suit color one must tread with caution as there are ample opportunities for catastrophe. Gentlemen know that fit trumps all else and this is never truer than when you try something a bit unorthodox. A too baggy crimson hued suit may leave you looking less rakish and more like a doorman or pimp; neither a desirable outcome. Furthermore, please note that the suits below are not bright, tomato-toned red; they are deep, refined, subtle shades that work well in an evening setting. Which brings me to the final stipulation; a red suit is not to be worn to the office, to court, to funerals or any other place that demands a sense of propriety (with the exception of nuptials, though it depends on the wedding). Showing up to cocktails or a dinner party in your crimson best, on the other hand, brings you one step closer to the rakish cool of dandies like Paul Weller and Johnny Marr; something the rest of us mortals can but strive for. With that said, here are a few options currently in stores:

Skinny Fit 2-piece Suit by Topman

77% Polyester, 20% Viscose, 3% Elastane

$400.00
www.us.topman.com/

I've started off with the worst of the bunch; though I could be biased and I encourage you to make your own decisions. My main qualm with Topman is that their quality doesn't match their price point. It is constructed entirely of man made materials which means it doesn't breath well and won't stand the test of time, but it will still cost you as much as or more than a superior wool or cotton version. The silhouette is nice and its convenient that you can order online; but there are better options. Additionally, I make it a rule not to buy a suit with "Machine Washable" in the care instructions.

Slim fit 3-piece suit by Zara

87% wool, 9% Polyamide, 4% Elastane

$360.00
www.zara.com

This three-piece suit by Zara is absolutely the best of the bunch when it comes to balancing cost, quality and versatility. The tailoring is decent off the rack, it has a high wool content (wool = good) and as you can see the price point for a three-piece is lower than that of both the Ben Sherman suit below and Topman's poorer quality plastic two-piece previously discussed. Anytime you have the chance to buy three-piece, do so. It allows you more versatility for blending it with the rest of your wardrobe which means you get more for your money in the end.

2-piece, 3-button Camden Fit (slim) suit by Ben Sherman

100% wool

$485.00

www.bensherman.com/us

This two-piece from Ben Sherman is the highest quality of the three. Ben Sherman in general tends to be better constructed than Zara or Topman, and they excel in tailoring. The drawbacks of this piece are the three-button jacket rather than two-button (a throwback to the Mods who popularized the look; though I believe a two-button version may be available soon) and the fact that it costs more than the Zara three-piece. In the end though, you would be getting better quality for the cost.

I am a Passenger...

"Oh the passenger
He rides and he rides
He sees things from under glass
He looks through his window side
He sees the things that he knows are his
He sees the bright and hollow sky
He sees the city sleep at night
He sees the stars are out tonight
And all of it is yours and mine
And all of it is yours and mine
So let's ride and ride and ride and ride"    

                              Iggy Pop - The Passenger

Moment 1: The station's hot and rank with trash and grime and as the sweat drips from my collared neck I stare down the dark tunnel and think of the cool car just beyond the approaching light. I am a passenger. The car is hot but empty and I sit and tap impatiently as we stop at 34, then 42, then 55 and finally at 59 where I dash out of the broiling can. I spy the A through a stairwell and pick up my pace. Down the stairs; rush, rush, dodge, rush, step, step, step through the closing doors; "Please stand clear of the closing doors". I am a passenger. The car is cool but crowded; no room to move, "pardon my step"; No room to breathe, "pardon my breath"; no room for reading, "pardon my stare". Ads I've read a thousand times run the length of the car and I read them over again wondering when they'll be rote. People insulating me; insulating themselves; hiding in words and music and moving pictures and sometimes hiding in stares; in ignorance. Ignoring the people. People standing, people sitting, people hanging from bars. People yelling, people smiling, people scowling and sneering and stealing and groping people, people, PEOPLE! Gotta get home, long day of work; need to get home, no time for beggars; want to just get home and away from the underground and the people and the chaos and the noise and the people and the PEOPLE! I am a passenger, and each day I ride... 

Moment 2: The train is bright; bright with light, with smiles and with people. People drifting home after dinners and drinks and dalliances and debauchery. We are all passengers on the same path; all destined for domesticity; for elevators and apartments and beds and the sleeping away of too many drinks. There is breakdancing and beatboxing to the broken beat of the constant clattering train and under the strobing lights of passing stations we all smile and laugh and wade leisurely in the warming jovial camaraderie of a boozy haze. Together we are passengers, and we ride and we ride and we ride into the night….

Moment 3: There was a delay; there's always a delay. I'm starved and the bags weigh me down and with each passing step the migraine squeezes tighter. As we exit the terminal the wind and cold are waiting to welcome us as only a New York winter can. The taxi line is long and I think I'll be used to the cold in a moment or two but as the minutes drag and my teeth chatter the hope slips further away. The taxi provides relief; even with its "lived in" upholstery, acrid with smoke and soda and ancient, rotted leather. Its a luxury after a long day of lines and flights. The numbness recedes slowly; my body warms and remembers the aches of a day spent in transit and I melt into the cushioned seat as we speed through Queens.  Manhattan peaks above Astoria's tree lined streets; a teasing glimpse hinting at it's its towers and lights and life and energy and that same sensation returns, the feeling that accompanies every refreshed view of the city; the surreal realization that I live here; I live HERE!   I close my eyes over the Triborough and let the city take me again, once more blissfully into the maelstrom, into the deafening euphoric deluge of pulsating dreams. I am a passenger.

Moment 4: The street weary leather soles of my brogues clack across the pavement and echo against the canyon of brownstones. I follow the streets; they know where to go. I follow them from asphalt to cobblestone and back again. Through winding park paths; through puddles of slush and piles of trash; under bridges and overpasses. They guide me through the night, tarted up in its electric best. They part and join and amble and end, west odds to east evens; each a separate vignette of time and place. Weaving their way through a tapestry of history and future colliding in an explosion of noise and light and kinetics. They carry me through the pulsing life of the metropolis; pushing forward, looking back They remind me that I am only a passenger, and I ride.