There’s a danger in our latter-day dandy syncretism: the rolling of anyone who dresses in flashy or anachronistic jackets and sportcoats into a loaf of the indigestible and incoherent. By its title, Dandysmesacknowledges various different types of dandies, and different conceptions of the dandy, all seen through the prism of Beau Brummell, the putative dandy zero.
Well, actually, the hat that insufferable pretentious know-it-all young men have made infamous is the trilby, a hat with a shorter crown than a fedora and, crucially, a much narrower brim. You know the type (of hat and of man) – possibly neckbearded, probably brings his own vinegar to brunches to force everyone to drink shrubs, so quick to mansplain: to volunteer his often unfounded knowledge of matters wide and far.
Goodbye old friend. One of my ancient, beloved vintage suits is no longer. Its jacket’s thick carved horn buttons will end up being treasured by someone who buys orphaned suit coats, because the last time I put this suit on, I discovered what seemed like a baseball-sized hole in the crotch of the trousers.
Today price is another marketing tool. We’re still told to think otherwise, thanks to regular posts and articles that helpfully compare the differences between, say, a $500 and a $2,000 leather jacket. Those articles make price out to be the proxy for quality, with all the differences between the two presumed to indicate lower quality in the cheaper version and higher in the dearer. Price does not mean quality, as those comparisons suggest. And $500 is a huge amount of money for a piece of clothing to almost all of us.