The Astaire creed of dress is: "Be yourself—but don't be conspicuous." -GQ, 1957
Classic Menswear | Pinned Collar
Considered by many shirt savants to be the pinnacle of collared carriage, this is not neck trapping to hide behind. Unlike the cutaway or button-down, the pinned collar’s stylishness rises or falls in relation to the skill of its execution. Wearing it with panache demands little practice, some manual dexterity, and a bit of patience. -Dressing the Man: Mastering the Art of Permanent Fashion
Classic Menswear | The White Buck Shoes
No article of footwear better typified the postwar trend toward relaxed style than American white bucks. Their slightly scuffed appearance lent them that lived-in character so characteristic of the country’s natural-shoulder fashion. Uniquely American in their understated temperament, the white buckskin oxford lace-up with its red rubber soles first served as comfortable summer accompaniment to resort clothes worn in the early 1930s. Later on, resourceful commuters discovered that these comfy suedes comported themselves equally well on steamy summer pavements under lightweight gabardine, seersucker, or tropical worsted suits. -Dressing the Man: Mastering the Art of Permanent Fashion
I think I can pinpoint the one moment when the American style of dressing first appeared. It was in an appalling 1933 movie called Dancing Lady during an otherwise forgettable dance number. It also just happened to be Fred Astaire’s first on-camera dance. But don’t look at the steps. Look at the outfit: Astaire is wearing a single-breasted, soft flannel suit with two-tone spectator shoes and a turtleneck. You wish you could look that stylish! Later that year, in Flying Down to Rio, we get the full Astaire impact. The muted plaid suit is not all that striking, but Fred is wearing it with a soft button-down shirt, a pale woven tie, silk pocket square, bright horizontally striped hose and white bucks. Whoa! Now that’s different. This melange of the classic and the sporty was an American innovation. As we approach the impeccable Astaire’s 100th birthday on May 10, it’s worth remembering that he remains the greatest exemplar of that style.
- G. Bruce Boyer in “Shall We Dress?” [How I love that book!!!!]
(via little-fred-astaire-things)
Astaire wore white ties and tails as though they were pajamas, and a tuxedo as though it were a part of his everyday routine, rather than borrowed from some Prussian general. It wasn’t supposed to look perfect; it was supposed to look natural. It worked then, and it works now. It’s what genius and style are all about.
(via mephistosastaire)
Wearing top hat, white tie, and tails in The Belle of New York (1952).
The young Astaire, circa 1920. The natural-shouldered suit coat proclaims his early commitment to style and comfort. © Photofest
(Source: thomasdestry)
Astaire arrives at Grand Central Station on June 19, 1934. He had just completed the musical The Gay Divorcee, his second film with Ginger Rogers at RKO Radio Pictures. © Bettmann/Corbis
(Source: thomasdestry, via little-fred-astaire-things)
Geared up for rehearsal on a back lot soundstage, 1940s: extra shoes, sweat towel at neck, trousers rolled. © John Engstead/MPTV.net.
(Source: thomasdestry)
