A tale of noughties nostalgia

Written by Reginald Jerome de Mans*

I wore Gurkha pants the other day. Those wide-belted secrets that look so fast on the perfect friends post, their belts criss-criss-criss-cross in a glorious way, puts me in mind of the old sow/harvest meme:

\”I\’m wearing Ghurka pants: Well, yes!!! Yes!! I\’ll have to undo and redo them to use the bathroom: This is driving me crazy.

They also reminded me of a groupthink forum, something that happens with small trends picked up by students of discussion forums, inspired by the dominant discourse there. Today it seems rare and passed off as an archaicism to test for automatic correctionOkweengaqhubeka nokuyisebenzisa.

The funny assortment of art in my closet attests to the persistence of that lost time, except for the ghurka pants. But are all I have to show hundreds of wasted hours?

In the early 2000s time wasters, usually young professionals or students, discovered that every possible subculture had its own petri dish on the Internet in those forums. What made them subcultures rather than cultures or interests? Shame on openly admitting interest in them, for one thing.

The platform allowed virtual participation – anonymous behind a stupid username – and men around the world came together in public, to share knowledge and information, to the extent that we had to add to written sources (Flusser and Roetzel mainly, and the occasional unreliable magazine article).

The result was by no means idyllic or healthy, but it created a community: a common interest that allowed men to discuss anything. The few who came to lead the talk then attracted followers who imitated, created habits.

Leading the speech required only speaking with a little authority, at least until it was time to put in evidence – information with a certain tailor or a certain manufacturer, about the donations of a certain city, or sending the right picture. The rest of us had to take our minds off the few ideas we had gotten the other way.

What filled our minds, along with absurd jokes (like the old loopy poster that said there was an obvious metal collar stay) was a combination of preferences and standards, based on what a number of tone-setting posters found themselves facing. And what the likes defined by groupthink were their visual characteristics, their humor in a way.

When the stadium managers swept aside what we thought we knew, one of the most prominent areas that filled ours was the magnificent passion of British builders.

Of course, gatekeeping and judgment would not accept anything but the best, so these would not be British shoes, but Edward Green in particular, prefers for some reason the hair that is more suitable for John Lobb Paris to wear.

Green\’s model names (especially the infamous Dover, an example of Green\’s signature technique of invisibly stitching leather with boar bristle) are as familiar to many of us as the calendar of saints. Even I was eventually won over by the Dover, I bought a two-tone version which I eventually came back to my senses and sold.

Since forum members like bargains almost like consulting, they even try to import these shoes from other countries, from international sellers who promise very low prices.

My Green Order most thought of the group was the Windsor, a very sad derby whose difference (besides the ticking on the side) was that instead of having a wing or toe of the cap, it had a U-shaped tip.

Previously it was a group order for the secret London Lounge, a forum with limited members, and they specified that it should be made in the old Edward Green, the \’big 88\’ square (since it has been replaced by many generations that are constantly refined – the 808, Ralph Lauren\’s 89, the 888 and so on).

Groupthink from a different forum led me to order the shoe in cordovan. Then I indulged in the internet chatter about deer bones, and spent hours trying to rub the crap out of it. Over time I learned that cordovan is extremely hard, wears very hot, does not polish as well as normal leather shoes… and that deer bones can stay on the road.

The mumbo-jumbo of applying them to the skin for their magical oils is useless, unless one polishes some skins with wax. Also, a confession I can\’t believe I\’m making, I bought an oriental rug so I could photograph my new shoes like other forum members did…

Groupthink also inspired me to buy something outside of my usual taste, longwings, whose thin wing reaches the back of the shoe. Although their ordering from Green compared one group to another, because they were not from Alden or Cordovan (the classic maker and material).

I have generally managed to avoid most of the American forms of groupthink, including the obsession with the perfect oxford shirt, roll collar and generous fit.

The American Trad look and its ethos took on a more defined form among the young people who felt deeply in the mid-2000s, it took a strange turn in 2009 when a large number of original Harris Tweed sports coats ended up in the Boston branch of discount Primark, following the disastrous decision of the biggest buyer of Harris Tweed to reduce five shrinking patterns. Members of one forum bought and returned sports coats to stock the Harris Tweed-branded hangers they arrived at.

Beaten by a single Trad trope, I ordered a suite with 3-roll-2 buttons that they liked very much. I have never kept up with all the details of the tradition given, making a British weaver (meditating, the Trads seemed to like British but not British cloth, except for the Shaggy Dog jerseys that Drumohr woven). The result was not good, however, similar to a standard jacket with two buttons one-third invisible invisible…

In the same suit I wanted my tailor to put in a Gallic delusion, icran parisien(or fish mouth) lapel notch. And this is where we get into the French flavor of groupthink.

Icran parisienI wanted to appear in the Arnys catalog, and any mention of Arnys on the field could not avoid the special touch of its house, the coat of arms of Forestière. As often happens, my delusions​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​cravates d\’atelierwith hand-rolled edges.

I admit that I contributed to the legends by sharing what I knew about Arnys and other Parisian makers during the salad days of the forum (and, dare I say, in a book I wrote a few years ago,Swan songs).

In those days, wearing a handkerchief of any kind, not to mention a glittering printed pocket, was a rarity, and I took the lead in running the medium – time printed tweezers that Drake had made at the same time in Holland and Holland.

Then another member pointed out to me that the Paris branch of Hilditch & Key once made a specialty of producing the same prints in cashmere, rather than the silk or wool that Drake used. That revelation was one of the rabbit holes I led my fellow forum members down.

I remember the day the French weaver Simonnot-Godard\’s cotton handkerchiefs became a sensation. One spring day in 2007 the late shirtmaker Alexander Kabbaz talked about stockpiling them, and the next minute they seemed to be everywhere, these cute little, cute little handkerchiefs that turned out to be the cotton house handkerchiefs of Charvet and Hermès…

Inkundlapièce deresistanceit was a Simonnot-Godard piece whose quadrants were different types of Madras plaid, so the wearer could have one of four bad patterns coming out of his breast pocket. I admit I bought it and ended up passing it on, but I have kept (and continue to get more colors) of their beautiful cotton handkerchiefs in solid pale colors.

The key, I think, is to find enough confidence to reject some of the things that are thrown at us, and find what we really want. I\’ve never bought SG fabric for the much-loved chambray shirt, although Kabbaz helped me try Zendaline in the remaining stock at Charvet based on his old guide to different types of shirts.

Otherwise, stadium – certified textiles were usually British, and luxury textiles such as Dormeuil, Scabal, and Loro Piana were ridiculed as rivals and often weakened. The distorted snobbery was probably handy again.

In any case, the flight to British safety stayed with me for most of my custom tailoring. I failed to try the fresco fabric that is popular with the stadium, one of the knits that make it easy to wear a suit in hot weather (after all, heat and comfort should be related)…

In 2008, I joined dozens of online friends who bought lengths of fabric from J&J Minnis before its acquisition, out of fear that whatever new Minnis would produce would be in short supply.

All mine are made of stadium approved suits, one with a double chest with 4×1 \’Kent\’ keystrokes, so named by the Governor of Kent, who makes his older brother the Governor of Windsor look responsible and balanced. The court\’s turmoil over the creation of the drape and its supporters at Savile Row brought to light an old saying by Anderson & Sheppard that some swore about them, with others scoffing at them.

What did the groupthink mean? For the safety of fairness, a private signal that is only broadcast online for shared tastes. Many of us needed that justice, after our ideas about clothing and confidence in taste were eliminated when we joined.

Eventually we learned to trust ourselves again in our love – to find our own truths, whether before or after we left the stadium for a change of job, the needs of friends and family, or just maturity.

Today, social media is a very powerful groupthink generator, but it\’s different. The stage was involved: even though they were not equal – the views of some members were highly respected – views were based on the interests of a dynamic group, unlike the media authorities who had already passed on their knowledge to the audience.

From my account above, it may seem like what I left is just artwork, memories of irrational conversations that helped pass the time. But some popular ones have stood the test of time. I just pulled out a ppmteenth pair of Greens, for example, a remake of their bit loafer Millfield, although I no longer post my usual way of thinking to do it.

I also wear my old Minnis shirts (usually Simonnot-Godard\’s clever day in the chest pocket) and I love their fabric, as I am very happy with the brand of the new Minnis as well, having one of my latest flip-flopped Prince of Wales suit on their current line.

Looking back, my days on the pitch support a broad lesson I have learned: acceptable knowledge, but consider the source, and the context in which it was presented.

There have been times in real life when I have had to give up what I thought I knew, in order to reread something from the basic principles underpinned. It has been important, however, to arrive at an abundance of critical information that will allow me to rely on my ​​own judgment.

A temporary shift in the arena has led to real friendships, for looking back I see that I was not just looking for knowledge, but a sense of community again at one point in my life.

Some of your contacts, in group conversations or in real life, have become strong friends, a few of the more loyal and regular contacts, where we exchange more than clothes, as before, but without the weight of holding the other person\’s favorites.

As in the old stadium, our clothes and poor styles often come in to make everyone laugh. Unlike then, all of us now have confidence in what we love to laugh at and move forward.

*Pen name of author, PS reader and regular forum contributor