Somewhere in between. Remember our Roman motto? In medio stat virtus. The first chapter of the book which deals with the concept of “causal”, or sportswear – if you wish – represents some sort of a rite of passage. This makes sense because the more you venture into the windy road of casual style, the harder it is to establish borders, the fewer rules you will encounter. Let me introduce you to the fantasy world of casual style.
I’ve spent the last chapters on formal style dispensing rules and commandments. Now I’m telling you: forget everything I said. Casual is casual is causal. It means that you don’t have to carefully match colors and textures and calibrate outfits to events and venues. The key word is “relax”. When you dress casual, supposedly, you are not working and – even if you are – your job is probably some sort of creative job.
You might be tempted to ask: “Am I supposed to just grab what comes out of my closet and put it on?” I’d say yes, in a certain sense. Like the skilled guitarist picks the strings on the right spot of the fretboard at the right time, with the proper intensity, gusto and intention, and it always looks as if he is able to play effortlessly, you should be able to pick and choose each and every single item of your outfit with the same ease. Although, one might be fooled into thinking that the guitarist is merely exhibiting talent, while in reality the exciting music your ear is the result of years and years of boredom and exercises. Much in the same way, the experienced dresser can actually pull out the perfect item from the wardrobe only because he has carefully trained his eyes and his mind to mix and match colors and texture for years and years.
Just to give you an idea: I bumped into one of the thousands upon thousands of articles written by a self-proclaimed style guru on one of the most important Italian newspapers the other day, and the title caught my attention because it had to do with neckties. It was entitled “Knots, length, color: the rules of the necktie”. I started reading and soon realized that I was faced with another one of the many “10 style tips” articles that are coming out these days. The article was superficial, but at least correct. The only problem I had with the piece was the excerpt and the conclusion. The major piece of advice went something like this: “the most important thing to remember when it comes to choosing your necktie is, let your feeling of the moment and your intuition be the leading factor in your decision”. I couldn’t disagree more, in fact, I have even commented the article with something that went, more or less, like this: “if you know nothing about colours, textures, bon ton and dress codes and you follow your intuition, it will most probably lead you to wear the wrong necktie in the wrong place, at the wrong time. The path to hell of style is paved with good intentions.” This being a communist, Godless country, they didn’t publish the comment, of course.
Now, when it comes to casual style: you understand what I mean when I say that, in a certain way, you can actually grab whatever comes out of the closet, provided you know what you are doing? It makes sense, doesn’t it?
The combo you see in here is composed of an off-the-rack Tombolini, two-buttons sporty jacket made in wool with notch lapels and flap pockets, the color of Gunmetal Grey, which was tailored to fit my measure by my Tailor/friend Marian Vitel, a pair of wonderful five pockets in cotton, the color of Cocoa Brown, finished with a windowpane pattern by Teleria Zed, a pair of Guess sneakers in charcoal grey, a dark grey driving cap by OVS, a white button-down cotton shirt by MOSCA ’54, an ascot tie made in silk in Nantor green with a pink&blue paisley pattern by the Tie Shop Rome (don’t bother searching for it, it’s a limited edition) as well as an off-white satin silk pocket square, also by the Tie Shop Rome. Looking closely, the earnest among you, might even notice I’m wearing a vintage Rolex Oyster (datejust).
The most important thing that must be said about this outfit is: it isn’t properly formal, and it isn’t properly casual. I’d say, however: it’s more casual than formal, for sure. Maybe we could call it “formual?” To put it in terms of wearability, I don’t think it’s formal enough for a Friday at the office, but it would be perfect for the nine o’clock cocktail party, the same day.
This is your first step in the fantasy world of sportswear, ladies & gentlemen, in medio stat. formual…
ALSO ON "A GENTLEMAN IN ROME"
As you probably know already, a blazer is different from a jacket because of its original purpose: these were common items in the wardrobes of Captains during the good-old fashioned age of navy battles, when men used to be the breadwinners, wear pants and never moan about circumstances (or days of the week), and the women used to be amazing, wonderful, sensitive creatures with long skirts.
I’ve been hesitating about this guy. I mean, I love him and his movies, but his style is not my style. However, he is here for a straightforward reason: Sordi represents - like perhaps nobody else - the average Italian, or the “Mario Rossi”, if you will (Average Joe). To be even more precise, Sordi is the quintessential Modern Roman Gentleman.
For those of you who have never heard of him: Sordi is regarded in Italy, and especially among Romans, as some sort of popular hero. His movies have entered the collective imagination of modern Italian culture and many of his famous quotes are an integral part of idiomatic Italiano. Italian comedian and director Carlo Verdone, with whom Sordi was very close, once stated during an interview that his mentor was some sort of “Radical Catholic”. He was probably hinting at the fact that Sordi was a true believer, but nevertheless, no exactly what you call your average Catholic. To give you an idea of his personality, here’s a famous quote. Sordi was once asked why he wasn’t married and he answered: “Me, Married? Do you really expect me to put a stranger in my home?”
Alberto Sordi was not just an extremely prolific actor (200 movies circa), but also an accomplished director and, most importantly, he was made a “Knight of Grand Cross” of the Italian Republic and that’s an incredible accomplishment. He also received many official recognitions for his work - for example, seven “David di Donatello” film award, among others. But some say that the most important achievement of his career was the unconditional love of his fellow Roman citizens. When he passed away following a heart attack back in 2003, a crowd of almost a million people gathered at the Basilica of St. John Lateran to say goodbye. Some claim that when Pope John Paul the Second gave up his ghost two years later, the piazza wasn’t as crowded.
However, we are here to discuss Sordi’s style. And the only reason why I spent a few extra-words for his bio is because I miss him. I feel sorry for all the people that will never be able to enjoy one of his movies, because they can’t really understand Italian. But, as I said, Sordi style is not exactly my cup of tea. There was too much London in his outfits. One may think that one can never be too British when it comes to dressing well, but I would object. You see? If you were born and raised in Italy, then you must act and dress like an Italian, it isn’t a question of choice: it’s imperative. National identity being crucial for personal development and cultural identity. An healthy fascination with foreign cultures is auspicabile in a gentleman (especially with Anglo-Saxon culture), but excess is never a good thing. “In medio stat virtus”, the ancient Romans used to say: virtue is to be found in the balance between too much and too little of anything.
This is the reason why I picked this outfit for Sordi: it is simple, classical, well put-together, timeless. Camel jackets are perfect in wintertime, they are somewhat hydro-repellant and they can easily keep moisture and cold winds at bay. Style must be functional, remember? Add a camel jacket to your wardrobe and you will always have something to wear in wintertime. Some modern Men’s Style websites and self-proclaimed style gurus would want you to pair a light-brown camel jacket with black pants. Don’t do that! Black and brown NEVER go well together. Go for Navy blue, instead. The muted color of the jacket would still pop-out, but you’ll be safe from the sarcastic remarks of the usual connoisseur that always lurks around the corner when you decide to go for the “personal” style approach, and that would be me: God forgives, John Cravatta doesn't. Remember, you aren’t a trend-setter, the Duke of Windsor or even Gianni Agnelli: play safe.
Notice how, Sordi being a Roman, he effortlessly understands the brown-with-blue rule: his madder tie is also simple and works perfectly with the ensemble. Also, notice how well he tied his necktie. That’s an half-Windsor know, correct: Sordi loved Windsors and half-Windsors, that’s one of the main reasons why I don’t like his style. The “fighetta” (little pussy), is there and it is perfect. Huh, pardon: that would be the dimple. Romans sometimes can be quite rude. There’s another thing or two to point out about the necktie and about how Sordi understands style quite effortlessly: that’s an English-spread collar you see on that shirt, which means that the choice of an half-Windsor knot is quite appropriate indeed: bravo, Alberto!
The other thing being: the slope! The necktie doesn’t look like a dying roadkill on the chest, but it’s lively instead. Consider also geometry: look at how the cuts of the collar form a continuum with the lapels on the jacket and go well with the knot as well. On this point, come to think about it: here’s the problem with the ensemble: the necktie is too thin for those lapels. However, the color of the shirt is appropriate (notice there are cufflinks, instead of buttons) and the choice of the wristwatch too. So, we’ll forgive Alberto this minor mistake.
I like American graveyards. Actually, I like American everything. Whatever.
Anyways, I do not suggest you should attend a funeral dressed like this, or even a wedding. Rule of thumb for this kind of events is: discretion. You don’t want to be the best-dressed man of the event. I tried hard to be discrete, the other day, at my best friend’s funeral… ehm… wedding. But I didn’t succeed. You see? At some point a group of rather interesting youngsters (the friends of my best friend’s brother) invited me at their table and told me that, in their opinion, I was by far the best dressed man at the wedding.
I replied: “I take it as a compliment”, but that was a little white lie. God forgive me. Inside me, I knew I had failed. No seriously: you need to be discrete sometimes. Today’s outfit is an archive image because I got fat at the wedding. Doh!
I call this outfit, “The Mad-Hatter”: the fun-check linen jacket with notch lapels and patch pockets is from @spadaroma - main color? Resolution-blue. The straw fedora hat in dark-polo blue is also from Spada, one of my favorite clothing stores in Rome. They have great non-expensive stuff. But I got this pair of types of denims in periwinkle blue by @rehashjeansmaker from @m_o_s_c_a . I love them. They don’t fit me now, but they will fit me again eventually… The Carmine Red seven-folds silk necktie is from @tieshoprome, as well as the tiebar and the white pocket square. I’m also wearing my favorite shoes, a pair of oxfords in brown pod, from Wilton of London. Speaking of which: they are more comfortable than sneakers!
That’s a vintage Philip Watch at my wrist, russet-brown strap. And I’m also wearing a leather belt in dark Brown from the Tie Shop Rome. Thanks to my friend @marian_vitel for the tailoring. Actually, I take that back: it’s his job, why should I thank him?
What can you say about this outfit?
A “perfetto” gentleman, as well as a Knight of Grand Cross, the late Vittorio Gassman was one of the greatest Italian actors of all times. The son of a German engineer and of a Jewish woman from Pisa, he was born in Genoa, in 1922.
Apart from other important prizes and recognitions, he also received the Order of Merit from the Italian Republic. Most importantly, though, Gassman was blessed by God with both beauty and talent. Italians will always remember him for his role in “L’Armata Brancaleone” (“For Love and Gold”), one of the best movies of all times. The colorized picture you see here is probably seventy years old, but, as we all know, style is timeless. This magnificent tweed jacket in forest green, with notch lapels, is finished with a houndstooth pattern, quintessentially British in its nature. It goes extremely well with that white cotton shirt: it’s a great combination of textures and colors. The polka-dots on the black necktie are a shade of light mauve. The outfit works because the dots are considerably bigger than the houndstooth patterns of the jacket. Now: obviously we can’t see the pants, but how about a pair of dockers in cachi? And for the shoes, I’d go for a nice pair of chocolate brown suede brogues.
The combo would be great for an evening cocktail party in front of a crackling fireplace, surrounded by interesting people, jazz music, good stories, Scotch whisky and Cuban cigars. Thoughts?
All right inferiors, it’s time to illuminate you with another slice of wisdom, John Cravatta style. And you know I am all about style. But don’t get me wrong: style without character is nothing. I despise men and women who can put the right pair of shoes at the right venue but can’t behave the way they are supposed to. Anybody can look at a few fashion pictures on Vogue or GQ and then copy&paste the style of Top Models from around the world. But, like Salomon said: “favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised”. The same can be said about men, of course. Especially because nowadays we don’t really know what a real man is with all this metrosexuality going on. And, before you ask: I don’t like metrosexuality. I have nothing against metrosexuals because they don’t know any better and you are supposed to loath the sin, not the sinner, but I think metrosexuality is a problem from hell.
I know, some of you (inferiors) would like to put John Cravatta in a museum for saying this, but John Cravatta is and will always be a dinosaur of the 21st century. Sorry! This is supposed to be about true style anyways, so follow me: when you are looking for a man (or a woman) don’t judge by the cover only. “Lust not after her beauty in thine heart; neither let her take thee with her eyelids”. Men and women, nowadays, are all about esthetics, cosmetics, magnetic glances and perfumes. But you must “beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.”
What I am trying to say is that clothes and accessories are indeed important, but an empty, even though perfectly clothed shell, will not suffice. Little Fashionable People, like I call them, are utterly useless. Men must be knowledgeable in order to be interesting, and even though they might be able to afford Dolce&Gabbana’s gowns, women certainly cannot afford to be shallow and must be capable of entertaining a good conversation with anybody. Stay away from the kind of men that, while at a dinner table, will try to steer the conversation toward soccer as soon as possible and keep also a good distance from women who are only good at gossiping:. More in general, stay well away from slanderers, hypocrites and whited sepulchers that will stab you in the back, given the slightest chance.
I know, you must be thinking: wait a minute: “is this supposed to be a blog about style and ties, or what?” Well, my dear inferiors, you see? John Cravatta does it his own way. I’m not going to copy the ideas of other people because I have my own ideas. And in my mind, a blog that only talks about style can be lightheartedly left alone in the digital sea of triviality to which it pertains. I am more than happy to entertain just a few readers, the ones that can appreciate, instead of as many as I can. I don’t want to sell my neckties to superficial individuals who wear nothing but nice clothes and have no interesting books in their bookcase. These kind of people should go and buy their neckties somewhere else. John Cravatta only sells his goods to good people: God fearing mean and women with a sense of decency and a penchant for respectable, old-fashioned morals.
The problem is: we live in a culture that kills thousands of babies each and every day but it is concerned with the well-being of Sperm Whales (by the way, would you please prevent the biologist who named the Sperm Whale to ever name another animal in the future? Thanks). We live in a culture that, in the name of political correctness, brags about gay rights but, alas! At the same time it defends the right to exist of Islamic states that execute gay people. We live in a culture that tolerates everybody… as long as they don’t have opinions of their own. We live in a culture that promotes sexual promiscuity and condemns traditional morals for the sole reason of being traditional. We have bought into the lies of feminism, communism, socialism, atheism and other stupid “isms” and we wonder why people don’t have children and don’t get married anymore, all of a sudden.
We know that a chain cannot be stronger than its weaker ring as much as a State can’t be stronger that the families of which it is composed, but we wonder why States are no longer functioning as they used to, back in the good old days when the traditional family was considered a good thing.
My dear inferiors, we are teaching our kids that they are the result of a cosmic accident, instead of being made in the resemblance of God, that they actually descend from the apes and that when they’ll die, they will dissolve into nothingness and then we wonder why they get depressed!
We look at the refugees crisis and point the finger at European politicians, instead of blaming it on the Middle Eastern Totalitarian Regimes that are actually causing the crisis. We consider ourselves to be much more knowledgeable than our ancestors, but in reality we are a bunch of ignorant who can’t tell a Rembrandt from a Renault.
Ah, despicable me! I have only something like 800 words and it’s hard to illuminate you with 800 words. But I’m doing my best, as you can see. I take a bow for now.
Despicably yours,
John “The Bapitst” Cravatta
This distinguished French gentleman’s name is Henri Le Blanc. A long time ago, way before the advent of the personal computer and the GAMEBOY, he wrote a fascinating book entitled “The Art of Tying the Cravat,” which you can now download for free.
This book has been written in 1828, but don’t think for a second that it is passé. To the contrary, Le Blanc’s sense of style and elegance could easily rival the one of nowadays’ most renown self-appointed “fashion experts”.
Take a look at this description regarding the “cravat sentimentale”, for example.
“The name alone of this cravat is sufficient to explain that it is not alike suitable to all faces. You then, whose nature has not gifted with skins of silk – eyes of fire – with complexions rivalling the rose and lily: – you to whom she has denied perly teeth and coral lips (a gift which in our opinion would be rather inconvenient) – you, in fact, whose faces does not possess that sympathetic charm, which in a moment, at a glance, spreads confusion o’er the senses, and disorder and troubles in the hearts of all who behold you – be careful of how you expose to public gaze a head like that of a peruquier. We repeat – avoid it; and be assured that if your physiognomy does not does not inspire sensations of love and passion and you should adopt the cravat sentimentale, you will be a fair butt for the shafts of ridicule which (with no unsparing hand) will be showed upon you on all sides”.
How magnificently politically incorrect, I say! Despicable me! Chapeau. À propos, today isn’t the first Wednesday of the month, but let me say something serious anyway: when I’ll become King of the World, all the men that wear shorts&sandals away from the beach will be lapidated and then fed to the lions for good measure. God forgives, John Cravatta doesn’t. And this admirable marvel of a man who was Henri Le Blanc, reminds us that style is about rules to follow. There are people out there who don’t like to follow rules and consequently dislike fashion. But you see? You really have to be careful when you go about your business, because there’s plenty of people out there, in the world. People can be harsh at times and they will judge you. It isn’t called the urban jungle for no reason, after all. We would all love to live in a perfect world, a world in which nobody will judge books by their covers and people from their dresses. But, like Bob Dylan would put it: that ain’t the case, babe! The world is what it is: it isn’t bad or good, it is only what it is. And you have to take it for granted, like it or not. Moreover, consider that the world will become worse indeed. When I come to power I will make sure that everybody reads Le Blanc’s book from cover to cover at least once a week. It will be like the madrassa of style. Nobody will be allowed to wear the wrong thing at the wrong time and in the wrong place, under penalty of death. I’m considering lapidation, or perhaps decapitation, but I haven’t decided yet. Decapitation sounds interesting, but I’ll have common’s people blood all over my pavement…
You might think this is a bit harsh, but that’s only because you have unfortunately allowed modern thinking to take over reasoning. But seriously, it really doesn’t take much to dress like a man and if you don’t do it people will take you for a kid. I’m not kidding you. You must be aware of the fact that your clothes should be of the right size, the right material, according to the season, the appropriate colors and they should be well ironed and not stained. Furthermore, the accessories you wear must be adequate not only to the occasion, but also to your clothes: watches, belts, hats, you name it. It is not about fashion, really: it’s about not being sloppy.
Pardon me, if I feel like Henri Le Blanc: you then, whose nature has not gifted with reason , you to whom she has denied wisdom and critical thought (a gift which in our opinion would be rather inconvenient) – you, in fact, whose faces does not possess that sympathetic charm, which in a moment, at a glance, spreads confusion o’er the senses, and disorder and troubles in the hearts of all who behold you – be careful of how you expose to public gaze. I might be there watching you. Remember: God’ forgives, John Cravatta doesn’t.
