What turned into a quick post about my new workhorse trousers turned into a reflection about how seventeen-year old me would shake his head at such a purchase.  Upon further review, I’ve decided to put together a multi-part story on why it took me so long to finally get a nicely fitting pair of pants on my legs.  I’m hoping you’ve been through the same, dear reader.

The Evolution of My Pants, Part II: The Suit that Squeezed Me

Whenever you dig through stacks of photo albums and find yourself five, ten years ago, the first mental task seems to be determining how much you have changed.  Terrible bowl haircuts.  Anti-establishment piercings.  I’ve learned to grimace less at these pictures, commemorating a time when I was growing from boy to man.  It’s a worthwhile experience I eagerly await for my children.  At the same time, I still can’t help but take note of my stylistic follies, even now.

Mens’ fashion moves relatively slowly, but when it does, it arrives in sudden jolts.  As mentioned in Part I, part of my decision to wear girl jeans was simply because a complete lack of slim-fitting options for men.  Of course, skinny jeans are the default choice for most young men; Levi’s 514’s tapered into 511’s, which funneled into 510’s.  Thin was in.

From this sea change of taste came a consequence: slim and tight as the standard of fashion with all garments, not just denim.  Tighter shirts, tighter jackets, tighter everything.  What many men – myself included – did not recognize is that standards in clothing are not universal.  Sometimes we fail to account for good taste.  Even the most flawless style icons can befall this trap.

Few characters embody masculinity, effortless cool, and upper-echelon style as much as James Bond.  As an Englishman, loyalty to MI6 and Savile row shared equal paramount, with three-pieces abound; however, in Skyfall, 007 seems to have deferred this responsibility to the impeccable Gareth Mallory.

In their first meeting, there was more tension in Bond’s  trouser legs than their icy exchange.  There were obvious signs of struggle at the seams.  Anything that was not stretched tight was patted down, with his tab collar pushing his throat back.  And you’re supposed to shoot full gallop in this?

On the other hand, Mallory played all his cards right.  Smartly tailored to his frame, but generous or meager wherever necessary.  Leaving the pocket square at home, but letting his pinky ring do the talking.  Even the monochromatic blues pay homage to Connery’s more rakish ensembles.  In a single scene, Fiennes carried the relaxed refinement of a man who knows to trust better judgment.  And can it hold in gunfire?

There can be arguments for Daniel Craig as the new standard of 007: a streamlined, toned, hostile mofo.  And I guess you can say this helps play foil to Mallory’s “Bond of yore” sensibilities.  But when you’re talking suits – a man’s uniform – you have to consider tradition.  I dare say you must respect it.

So why don’t we?

If I’m pointing fingers, I firstly do so to myself.  In fact, when the twenty-third Bond installment premiered, I was rooting for Craig’s Tom Ford-designed Suit.  Hell, I wanted essentially the same thing for my wedding.

Upon my first appointment with at The Armoury, I was prepared with a portfolio of looks from GQ, advertising narrow, sharp cuts.  I was drawn into the allure of these slim silhouettes, wondering if my more athletic, thick-bottomed frame could be thinned by expert suit making.  With every subsequent visit to WW Chan, I asked for a closer fit.  And a closer fit.  And a closer fit once more.

It’s no surprise that here I am, over a year later, still looking to let out what I asked to take in, lest I resemble Oswald Cobblepot from the waist down.  Staring a the mirror on at my first fitting long ago, even then I knew: you’re not supposed to wear tight trousers.  It’s just that I was accustomed to the new rule of skinny that I disregarded better judgment.  Suits are forever.  Fashion is not.

Thus, the second lesson I’ve learned in my study of menswear: there actually is such a thing as propriety.  Men like to keep things simple and direct, but the category of “one size fits all” rarely ever works.  Nor does “one fit styles all.”

Will I wear slim denim?  Of course.  But after tearing my slim shorts at the ass and an extremely tailored jacket button popping off on a brisk walk, I think I now understand that this aesthetic doesn’t apply to everything.

Now I’m glad to feel confident with the extra legroom in my new trousers.

Bond v Mallory: additional play-by-play analysis:

The Collar

___________________________________________________________

Seated

___________________________________________________________

Standing

___________________________________________________________

A Final Word on M & 007: 

This is a completely amateur assessment of the two.  If you wish to further dive into the iconic style and comparisons of intricate details of every incarnation of Mr. Bond, please visit The Suits of James Bond.  It’s an excellent site whose writer, Matt Spaiser, understands men’s clothing and what makes it good.  I suggest you can start with write-ups of Bond‘s and Mallory‘s suit.