I’ve featured a number of well-dressed Torontonians on this site and always ask them about their style icons, men who inspire them to dress better. A couple of weeks ago, I posted an article about finding your own style icon and that got me thinking, who’s mine? I’m always inspired by Cary Grant‘s elegance and G. Bruce Boyer‘s understated style, but in terms of an icon, I couldn’t come up with one. Then I turned on an old TV show and figured out who my style inspiration is, and he’s not even real.
Hugh Laurie as Bertie Wooster and Stephen Fry as Reginald Jeeves.
Last year, after reading some of P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves stories, I looked around the YouTubes for filmed versions. Up until that point, I thought Hugh Laurie was an American actor whose claim to fame was staring in House, a show I never watched. Turns out that somehow I had managed to miss Hugh Laurie’s entire career as a comedian in England. I also had no idea that he’d worked for so long with Stephen Fry, who I knew only as the voice of the Harry Potter audio books and from his excellent podcast. Discovering their sketch comedy was a revelation, but discovering their version of Jeeves and Wooster was life changing.
Set in the 1930s, the show, originally broadcast from 1990-1993, is campy, silly and occasionally very funny. I spent a good portion of my free time last autumn racing through all four seasons which, sadly, get much campier and sillier as they go on. Story lines become repetitive and predictable. And it looks like everyone involved is growing as tired of the whole thing as the audience.
But like Downton Abbey, I also watched the show for the clothes. In the case of Jeeves and Wooster, I fell in love with Hugh Laurie’s wardrobe. It follows the traditional British approach to town and country wear – grey in town, tweed in the country – but being the 1930s, there is a fair amount of flair and elegance. A year after first discovering the show, I returned to re-watch the first season only to find that I have built much of my winter wardrobe around ol’ Bertie Wooster’s, especially his country wear.
I love the mix of autumn colours in these outfits, especially the way he combined tweeds with sweaters and vests, usually brown or mustard. This is a look you might see on much older men these days, but it’s a reminder that when young men wear them, they look at once elegant and casual.
About three episodes into the series I noticed that when Bertie was out in the country, he had a leather strap attached to his lapel. Its purpose is revealed in one episode when he pulls it out and on the other end is a pocket watch. I had to have one. They are called “leather Albert straps” and were common in World War I for carrying around your watch when you didn’t have a waistcoat. Also, I assume, a leather strap is rather more practical in battle than a jangly metal one.
And thanks to the internet, just a few weeks later I had one in my button hole, purchased from the only maker I could find, Chris Balm, in England.
I have also added a tattersall waistcoat to my wardrobe thanks to Bertie. I love not only the suggestion of English country sport it evokes, but the pattern and colour (mine is more cream than mustard) which contrast nicely with a blazer or tweed sport jacket. I also have a wool cap and thanks to Kingpin’s Hideaway, a 1930s unlined brown patterned tie. Even though I can’t remember Bertie ever wearing a Fair Isle sweater, I’m sure I’d fit right in at a shooting party at one of Bertie’s haunts, Totleigh Towers:
But it isn’t just Bertie’s country wear that I adore.
Bertie Wooster’s city wardrobe is the pinnacle of 1930’s menswear. I am a big fan of the British cut, and Laurie wears it so well: the slightly padded shoulders, the fuller chest and the nipped waist. In fact, the above outfit is something that with very little variation – an umbrella instead of a walking stick, slightly slimmer pants – I regularly wear in the winter. To do this, I’ve brought some of Bertie’s city accessories into my wardrobe, like dress hats, pocket watch chains and collar pins (you can see one of his in this post’s first photo).
This may all seem like dress up, like cosplay. Trust me, I know about cosplay. For years I dressed as Japanese anime characters at conventions. But this is different. I am not trying to dress just like Bertie Wooster or express my love for the show. I am trying to pick up on all the subtle hints and ideas behind dressing well that are sprinkled throughout the show – specifically by the costume designer Dany Everett, who did a fantastic job re-creating the look of the 1930s, arguably the last time, until now, that men dressed so well.
I’m also not dressing like this because I want to live in the 1930s. I love the internet, vaccines and social justice, thank you very much. But watching shows like Jeeves and Wooster, Downton Abbey, and Mad Men gives us an opportunity we don’t have in every day life: to see well-dressed men. And we can take from these shows the elements we like and mix them up with modern dress.
For instance, I took my outfit from above and remixed it with different items, like a contemporary fedora hat, a modern-cut blue blazer and slim green cotton pants. The effect, I think, is classic and contemporary, exactly the style I aspire to.
I write quite a bit about dressing for respect and sense of self, but my main reason, honestly, is enjoyment. Above all else, watching TV shows for the clothes, looking for rare items, mixing up my wardrobe is simply fun. Think of it this way: your body is the canvas, your wardrobe the paint. You get to be the artist.
Terrific piece. May I recommend series 3. Set largely in New York, A delightful character called Rocky Tood appears. A poet who lives in the woods and is forced to frolick with Bertie in the city. Played with juvenile enthusiasm by @hookandfurl !
Another great column and insight into the history of clothes during a period where clothes did make the man. I am very familiar with the Jeeves and Worcester series from many years ago. You are so correct with the “city versus the country look”; there certainly was a definite distinction which I also feel assisted with the attitude of being in either location.
I also enjoyed your tale about the leather pocket watch lapel holder; something that I was not aware. Once again, another history lesson of enjoyable content and information!
Thanks Pedro for this thought provoking post. I admire you for having the panache to emulate Bertie, and to remind us that while he might have been a bit of a drivelling idiot, he was no slouch as a dresser. If I had to choose my style icon from British television, I’d go ahead a few decades and chose Michael Kitchen from Foyle’s War. The 1940s look of fedora, three piece suit and narrow tie with just a bit of colour works for me. I need to find more of that look, maybe through the vintage stores you mention in your blog, or maybe through a sympathetic tailor?
Cheers,
Michael
Foyle is an excellent choice! You should certainly be able to find something along those lines in my vintage store picks, the trick will be the fedora. His had a rather unique crown, and that blue!
Someday people will look back and say how well-dressed the men of the early 2000s were, with their insoucient style of flannel pajama pants and football team jerseys, sneakers and baseball caps.
Actually, Jill, I really doubt that. After all, they aren’t considered well-dressed now and won’t in the future. Believe me, there were plenty of slobs and slouches back in the day, but nobody extols their virtues today. There were casual dressers in the 30s and 40s, but they still did it with intent and elegance, not the lack of care we see today.
Thanks for reminding me of the attention to detail in the costuming for this show.
However, Bertie would never, ever have referred to his trousers as ‘pants’. In Britain, ‘pants’ always means underwear, especially to generations not raised on American telly.
I must admit that since I’m always looking at what the men are wearing, I don’t pay much attention to women’s wear. I also recognise that the history and rules are very different. All that said, there is one female style icon that comes to mind: Grace Kelly. Absolutely stunning in To Catch a Thief.
It’s Tattersall (not tattersol), i.e. tattersall check, which derives from a pattern on horse blankets. Tattersalls is a famous horse auctioneers in the UK. The waistcoat therefore has racing connotations which Wodehouse (and Bertie) would have been aware of.
13 Comments
John Jay
January 21, 2015 at 3:11 pm
Pedro Mendes
January 21, 2015 at 6:57 pm
Daniel
January 22, 2015 at 7:28 am
Michael
January 22, 2015 at 3:02 pm
Pedro Mendes
January 22, 2015 at 3:06 pm
Jill
January 26, 2015 at 6:59 am
Pedro Mendes
January 26, 2015 at 9:48 am
Susannah
July 21, 2015 at 6:10 am
Pedro Mendes
July 23, 2015 at 8:24 pm
Torontoredhead
March 1, 2017 at 12:50 am
Pedro Mendes
March 1, 2017 at 10:15 am
Bridget
June 13, 2021 at 9:27 am
Pedro Mendes
June 13, 2021 at 9:22 pm
Terrific piece. May I recommend series 3. Set largely in New York, A delightful character called Rocky Tood appears. A poet who lives in the woods and is forced to frolick with Bertie in the city. Played with juvenile enthusiasm by @hookandfurl !
Incredible! Funny thing is, I remember that character so well because he was so poorly dressed 😀
Greetings Pedro!
Another great column and insight into the history of clothes during a period where clothes did make the man. I am very familiar with the Jeeves and Worcester series from many years ago. You are so correct with the “city versus the country look”; there certainly was a definite distinction which I also feel assisted with the attitude of being in either location.
I also enjoyed your tale about the leather pocket watch lapel holder; something that I was not aware. Once again, another history lesson of enjoyable content and information!
Play on!
Cheers!
Daniel
Thanks Pedro for this thought provoking post. I admire you for having the panache to emulate Bertie, and to remind us that while he might have been a bit of a drivelling idiot, he was no slouch as a dresser. If I had to choose my style icon from British television, I’d go ahead a few decades and chose Michael Kitchen from Foyle’s War. The 1940s look of fedora, three piece suit and narrow tie with just a bit of colour works for me. I need to find more of that look, maybe through the vintage stores you mention in your blog, or maybe through a sympathetic tailor?
Cheers,
Michael
Foyle is an excellent choice! You should certainly be able to find something along those lines in my vintage store picks, the trick will be the fedora. His had a rather unique crown, and that blue!
Someday people will look back and say how well-dressed the men of the early 2000s were, with their insoucient style of flannel pajama pants and football team jerseys, sneakers and baseball caps.
Actually, Jill, I really doubt that. After all, they aren’t considered well-dressed now and won’t in the future. Believe me, there were plenty of slobs and slouches back in the day, but nobody extols their virtues today. There were casual dressers in the 30s and 40s, but they still did it with intent and elegance, not the lack of care we see today.
Thanks for reminding me of the attention to detail in the costuming for this show.
However, Bertie would never, ever have referred to his trousers as ‘pants’. In Britain, ‘pants’ always means underwear, especially to generations not raised on American telly.
Old habits, Susannah. And I still call waistcoats “vests” and braces “suspenders.” Jeeves would be so disappointed.
Who are some of your female tv style icons, please? (not for your own personal sartorial inspiration, but, y’know… in general)
I must admit that since I’m always looking at what the men are wearing, I don’t pay much attention to women’s wear. I also recognise that the history and rules are very different. All that said, there is one female style icon that comes to mind: Grace Kelly. Absolutely stunning in To Catch a Thief.
It’s Tattersall (not tattersol), i.e. tattersall check, which derives from a pattern on horse blankets. Tattersalls is a famous horse auctioneers in the UK. The waistcoat therefore has racing connotations which Wodehouse (and Bertie) would have been aware of.
Thanks for catching that, Bridget, fixed!