BWW Reviews: London Fashion and the Vision of THE PERFECT GENTLEMAN

In modern times, London has been the Olympus of men's fashion. I know that any Paris- or Milan-based readers I have will want me dead for saying this, but denial is useless. It was London that dressed Beau Brummell, the Duke of Windsor, and James Bond, not to mention their legions of admirers and imitators. It is also London that epitomizes the stoicism, the polish, and the ever-subtle eccentricity of modern menswear at its best: a menswear designer can get away with plenty of avant-garde nuttiness in New York or Tokyo, or even Paris or Milan, but surely not in Savile Row or its environs. Menswear London has aged beautifully, accumulating a history of strangenesses and elegances that demands to be told--and told with all the dashing economy of first-rate bespoke tailoring.

That is where The Perfect Gentleman by James Sherwood comes in. Subtitled The Pursuit of Timeless Elegance and Style in London and sporting a rather clever foreword by Terence Stamp, the book is equal measures irony and earnestness: Sherwood's amusement with the foibles and oddities of British fashion is as unmistakable as his attachment to the subject. Notice the borderline-flawless outfit on the cover: contrast collar shirt, chocolate-colored tie, blue double-breasted waistcoat, houndstooth suit jacket. Sherwood wears the same in his author's photo, proving that elegance begins at home. Yet purveyors of fine suits and shirts are only a few of the objects of interest in this volume, which also draws in shops and firms devoted to perfume, jewelry, umbrellas, and guns--and binds them all together with just the right measure of London history.

Sherwood's account of London luxury begins with the 17th-century Restoration, with British attempts--many of them courtesy of King Charles II--to rival French fashion. While the hatmaker James Lock & Co. and the perfumer Floris date from this period, one of the most memorable and influential London men of fashion, George "Beau" Brummell, dates from the next. Brummell's contributions to menswear were two-fold: he was a sharp dresser who gave us the rudiments of the modern suit, and he was a memorable 18th-century fashion celebrity--suave, self-made, and so badly in debt that, eventually, he was forced to flee to France. (How many of today's menswear extravagances we would have without him is anyone's guess.) Brummell's epoch gave way to the shopping arcades of the Victorian Era and to the reigns of tastemakers with better pedigrees and less entertaining biographies. The Prince of Wales imparted a jovial air to the fashions and recreations of the late 19th century, while the Duke of Windsor became a paragon of smart tailoring and loveable leisure in the 20th.

Yet is where London style is headed as interesting as where it's been? Sherwood's considerations of the recent past are thorough, conscientious, and not always to the advantage of this book: he carefully situates London commerce in popular film history without seeming to catch on that some of his chosen films (My Week with Marilyn, any and every version of The Great Gatsby) are nothing short of regrettable. Paradoxically, The Perfect Gentleman is more appealing when it indulges in a little elitism. The book concludes with listings of grand hotels, social clubs, and upscale dining rooms-and with addresses for all of the businesses that Sherwood profiles. My first impression was that Sherwood might as well throw in the addresses of Rolls-Royce showrooms; after all, how many of us will ever own an engraved shotgun from Purdey, or a bespoke umbrella from James Smith & Sons? My second and final impression was that, maybe, he is giving us something not simply to admire, but to aspire to. Brummell, for all his massive flaws, built himself a place in the world of international elegance. Why shouldn't you?