Atomic!

This is a contemporary tie (Italian silk, but maker unknown) that embodies all the soubriquets usually applied to fabulous 50s designs: atomic, retro, mid-century modern, tiki, lounge, Eames era, etc. The best feature of the tie is its astounding variety of textures: each color has its own particular weave pattern. And what a great sheen, too! This necktie is an extraordinary piece of work and is destined for the Permanent Collection.

It takes a new shirt

I've had this Gene Meyer tie for a year and a half, and could never find the right outfit for it. My orange shirt was more of a melon color and didn't really go with the tie; I could have worn it with a black shirt, but that would necessitate wearing black pants too, and I just can't wear that much black. So I finally got a "harvest orange" shirt (with my latest Lands' End order), and it all turned out just right. The ensemble is really more appropriate for Halloween, but I didn't want to wait another five months to wear the tie. It may seem extreme to buy a shirt for a specific tie, but the tie was losing hope, and desperate ties call for desperate measures. ;-P Besides, one can never have too many colors in one's palette of shirts. Believe it or not, I have a queue of several ties for which this shirt is just the ticket.

I am now at Liberty to disclose...

Another Liberty of London tie! Who designed Liberty's signature floral textiles? Arthur Liberty did not disclose that information; in the art nouveau era he went for quantity, embracing mass production and affordable prices, as opposed to one-of-a-kind objets d'art and their attendant high costs. (He also favored botanical designs over those depicting the human body.) But now we can know, if not who designed which design, at least a short list of designers who might have: see this page at The Arts and Crafts Home website (and search for "textile"). I am especially impressed with Silver Studio of Hammersmith, London, a family business that provided Liberty with designs from 1880 to 1963. The Silver Studio Design Practice Collection at the Middlesex University Museum of Domestic Design & Architecture contains 40,000 textile designs on paper; I'd bet a lot of them showed up on neckties. (Maybe this one!)

Emilio Max

The label has fallen off of this vintage tie, so I can't tell you the maker. The style looks like an effort to imitate both Emilio Pucci and Peter Max, though it lacks the fine balance and grace that those gentlemen brought to their neckties. I have the same tie in a different colorway, and it might still have the label on it, but it's getting rather difficult to find a particular tie in the necktie jungle of the bedroom. In other words, I couldn't immediately find it (as in that journalistic chestnut, "Phone calls to the accused were not immediately returned."). I should invest in some retail merchandising racks.

Today I had lunch with a group of people from work (including my boss, and his boss; no pressure there!) and I got to talk about my necktie hobby at some length. I explained that I have a wide variety of ties, from wild, psychedelic models to more traditional, conservative ties like this one. Ba-dum! No, I didn't really say that, I didn't think of it until afterwards. If I could come up with the good lines on the spot, I'd be on the teevee. But instead I just walk around thinking "I should've said...", lacking the compunction to recreate the scenario a la George Costanza in "The Comeback." (Emo Phillips had a great "should've said" joke, which you can read here.)

Royal Tie

This tie is from the venerable Turnbull and Asser of Jermyn Street (London), shirtmakers to HRH The Prince of Wales (that's Prince Charles) since 1980. Turnbull and Asser is the name in fine British shirts (off-the-rack and bespoke--ooh, one of these days...), and their other menswear isn't too shabby either. (Though Charles has recently taken some flak for buying suits from them, leaving his longtime Savile Row suitmakers Anderson & Sheppard.) Family-owned since its founding in 1885, Turnbull and Asser was bought by House of Fraser in 1986, months after that company was bought by the Al-Fayed family. House of Fraser went public in 1994, and appears to be on the verge of a buyout right now. Turnbull and Asser has two stores in the United States, in New York and Beverly Hills.

I've said before that all you need is circles to make a great tie design, and here is another case in point, one of Turnbull and Asser's most famous patterns. They also have a marvelous snakes pattern, but I haven't managed to get one of those yet. And forget what I said yesterday about Carnaby Street bellywarmers; I've just learned it was Turnbull and Asser who came out with the "kipper tie," the first bellywarmer. I stand corrected (said the man in the orthopedic shoes).

Flower Power

Here's a tie that would fit right in at The Party, Blake Edwards' classic screwball comedy starring Peter Sellers. It is definitely of that era, in the Carnaby Street "bellywarmer" style (though at 4.5" wide it's about an inch short of a true bellywarmer). Birdie num-num?

Well, we had a few weeks of spring weather, and now it is officially a Washington summer, with temperatures and relative humidity in the 90s. That's challenging weather for wearing ties, I tell you what. But wearing ties is what I do best, so I will persevere.

I'm Rainbow F@#&in' Randolph!

In Danny DeVito's Death to Smoochy (written by Adam Resnick), Robin Williams plays children's show host "Rainbow Randolph." But off the set he is a crass and greedy man, who justifies every bad thing he does by saying, "I'm Rainbow f@#&in' Randolph!" Which is what I can't help saying whenever I put on this shirt! It doesn't get as much wear as my solid-color shirts because it's hard to find non-solid-color ties to go with it. This recently-acquired floral tie by Bernard Chaix of France (with a little touch of Peter Max) goes pretty well; or close enough for government work, as they say. (Did I mention I am a state employee?)

Disclaimer: That "close enough for government work" quip is just a joke; my actual work is performed to the highest standards of accuracy and quality. CMA!

Episode 200: Origins

This entry marks the 200th tie I have displayed on this blog! For this special occasion I've dipped into the Permanent Collection for my first fabulous tie, from International Passport. I bought it at Raleigh's in White Flint during their going-out-of-business sale in 1990 or '91; I wore mostly conservative ties at the time, but this playful item evoked the cartoon Paris of Pepe le Pew and the Pink Panther (and, more recently, Shag), so I splurged. (At half price it still cost $40.) The tie got a great reception; everyone loved it, and it's probably what set me on a course to become the necktie maniac I am today. Two hundred down, and I'm just getting started!

The twelve-store Raleigh's chain was a Washington-area fixture for fine clothing; the chain was bought by clothing manufacturer Hartmarx in 1988 during a period of acqusitory expansion. The takeover resulted in the immediate loss of 40 jobs in Raleigh's distribution center, and later, as Hartmarx failed to succeed in the retail business (shedding all its retail divisions except for Kuppenheimer), the demise of the chain itself. (The 90s
were to see several more bankruptcies of beloved area retailers, such as Garfinckel's and Woodward & Lothrop.) The Raleigh's story has a happy ending, of sorts: it was bought out by a group of employees who turned it into Boardroom Ltd. Clothiers, with a single location at White Flint Mall.

Boxelder Week, Day 5: Book of Kells

The final tie of Boxelder Week reproduces artwork from the Book of Kells, one of the world's most renowned manuscripts. It was completed around 800 A.D., the work of at least two Irish monks in the monastery of St. Columba on the island of Iona, off Scotland's west coast. The book contains 680 pages of calfskin vellum (an additional 30 have been lost), all but two of which are illustrated, and without any repeat of patterns. Transcribed therein are the four Gospels in Latin and some miscellanea (Hebrew names and the Eusebain canons). The book acquired its name after being moved to Kells Monastery in Ireland in the 9th century, as protection from Viking raids. That didn't stop it from being stolen in 1007, however, though the book was quickly recovered, minus its bejewelled cover. The Book of Kells was given to Trinity College of Dublin in 1661, and remains there today. I'm afraid I couldn't find what the fish and fabulous tracery on this tie depict; Boxelder's Kells line is no longer available, and is not displayed on the website. So if you know, please leave that information in a comment. (I have a feeling the incredibly knowledgeable Mike S. will know...)

But the big news of the day is, new clothes from Lands' End! Why am I always going on about Lands' End, you ask? (Or not.) Because it's the only place I can get pants that actually fit! You see, the clothing manufacturers have decided that mens' legs are sized in increments of two inches, or that men will be happy with their pants if they are within two inches of the correct length. If you need a 32½ inch inseam, for instance, you are fated to walk around with your pants just a little too short (or worse, if they shrink), or to be walking on your pants hems because 34 inches is just too long. But with Lands' End, you can specify your inseam to the quarter inch! What a luxury, to wear pants with a hem that just breaks over the instep and hangs straight down in back to the midpoint of the shoe.

Boxelder Week, Day 4: Dreamings

Given the success of Desert Designs ties based on Australian Aboriginal art (by Jimmy Pike, Doris Gingingarra, and Clifford Possum), it was not unexpected to see other tie makers enter that market. Boxelder's version is the Dreamings series (they're down to just one design now, Snake Dreamings). Today's tie is Fire Dreaming by Chloe Amanita, who is not actually Australian (I think she is French), but she has lived in Australia. As opposed to the Klimt ties which exclude the main subjects of Klimt's works, this tie focuses on the central images, a lizard (probably a goanna) and bird (a malleefowl, I believe). The design is more formal than the Desert Designs ties.

Boxelder Week, Day 3: Gustav Klimt

Gustav Klimt (1862-1918) (Flash site here) is practically synonymous with fin de siecle arts, though I like to point out that he was working at the fin of the *last* siecle; we have just lived through another one, so the phrase could use some disambiguation. Klimt was accomplished in portraiture and eroticism, but it is his backgrounds that are most often reproduced in textiles: expanses of canvas (or stucco) packed with patchworks of off-kilter, multicolored rectangles, trees with myriad spiral branches, brilliant jewels with organic forms (or vice versa, flowers made of gems), mystical symbols (lots of eyes in pyramids), flowing waves and tresses, glowing scales, everything suffused with the brilliance of gold. Printed on this tie are background patterns from Klimt's 1907 Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer; the gold tones of the original have been transmuted to blues in this colorway. The spirals are too fine to show up in the picture at right, but if you click through to the large version you can see a hint of them. A couple of Boxelder's other Klimt neckties can be seen here; note how they deal only with the backgrounds, as opposed to the Ralph Marlin approach of reproducing the central subject. I have several other Klimt-inspired neckties, which will appear on the blog in due course.

Boxelder Week, Day 2: Frank Lloyd Wright

Judging by the number of ties I've seen for sale and actually being worn, I would say that Boxelder's Frank Lloyd Wright line of ties, produced under license from the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, is their most popular. Today's tie, Ferns, is based on a 1956 screen design by Wright's protege Eugene Masselink for the master bedroom of Elizabeth Gordon's house in Dobbs Ferry, New York. The fronds of the ferns are finely delineated in gold on the tie; too finely to show up in this picture, unfortunately.

In college I took a course in modern architecture. The professor had it in for Wright and favored more stark practitioners such as Mies van der Rohe, Richard Meier, and Helmut Jahn. I liked his contrarian viewpoint, so I adopted it myself. But in the intervening years I have discovered for myself that I really like Wright's designs! And not just his buildings, but his furniture and decor as well demonstrate a masterful synthesis of traditional and modern elements. I've been to Fallingwater, and I hope to visit more of his buildings in the indeterminate future.

Boxelder Week, Day 1: Paul Klee

Boxelder, Inc., of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, is the industry standard for the tasteful reproduction of fine art and design on neckties. Paul Klee returns to the blog with Boxelder's rendition of his 1922 painting, Unstable Equilibrium. (I have further destabilized its equilibrium by wearing it with a multistriped London shirt.) They've played with the original colors; the purist in me shouts "Bastardization!", while the aesthete shouts back, "Nice colors!" The arrows pointing in all directions make this another good candidate for a "Pointless Forest" tie; maybe writing about that last week is what made me think of wearing this tie in the first place.

This tie is part of the Moderns Series One line. Other works represented in the series are Klimt's The Kiss and Water Serpents I, Matisse's Fleurs de Neige and Les Bètes de la Mer, and George Valmier's Decors et Couleurs.

The big news, which is unrelated to neckties but will spill over into this space anyway, is that I am now a blood uncle! I've been an uncle for years, but only on my wife's side of the family. Saturday my brother's wife had a baby, their first, and what a cutie he is! I'm in Maryland and they're in Boston, I've got to find a way to get up there and see the little guy!

Serica

Today's tie comes from Serica's Elite line, which boast the rather luxurious feature of self-tipping: the fabric on the back of the point of the tie is the same as the fabric on the front. This is luxurious because it uses more premium silk than regular tipping, which is generic and drab. Serica is owned by Gentry, Inc. of Providence, Rhode Island, and that is the totality of Serica information I could find. Serica ties are offered as a component of custom tailor J. David's Gold and Platinum plans, and I suspect they are sold through other high-end outlets as well. The design on this tie is botanical with a psychedelic bent, in muted pastels on black. It reminds me of...well, I can't actually put my finger on it, but it has pleasant associations for me for reasons known only to my subconscious.

The Pointless Forest

In Fred Wolf's 1971 animated feature The Point (story and music by Harry Nilsson and narration by Ringo Starr*), little Oblio is born with a round head in the Land of Point, where every person has a pointed head, and every building has a point on top, and every animal, and so on. It's the law. Oblio is allowed to live in the Land of Point with a pointed hat on his head, but when he embarrasses the evil Count's evil son, he is banished to the Pointless Forest with his trusty dog Arrow. But Oblio discovers that everything in the forest is pointed; the Pointed Man, who appears at of thin air at opportune moments, has three faces and lots of points, all over his body and outfit. But "having a point in every direction is the same as having no point at all," he says. So this is my Pointless Forest tie, with a point in every direction. The maker is the mysterious Creative Company, and the fabric is Microfil. There are several products called Microfil on the market; one is for preserving post-mortem tissue, another for filtering liquids, and yet another one for dispensing pharmaceuticals. But I suspect that this Microfil is the product that is usually "meltblown" into a fiberfill for use as a hypoallergenic down substitute in comforters.

Oblio, by the way, learns many Important Lessons in the Pointless Forest, which he brings home in a triumphant return to the Land of Point, sparking a major paradigm shift.

* Ringo Starr is the narrator on the home video release, but in the movie's original airing as an ABC Movie of the Week, Dustin Hoffman was the narrator, while on broadcast reruns it was Alan Thicke.

Bocconi University

Here's a pretty snappy school tie, from SDA Bocconi, the business school of Bocconi University in Milano. The glyph that's repeated in three colors throughout the tie is the school emblem; it looks like an amphitheater seating chart, but I think it's actually a rising sun. Bocconi University was founded in 1902, and was "the first Italian university to grant a degree in economics." The business school was established in 1975; its MBA program was ranked the world's best value for money by Forbes magazine in 2005. The school even offers a Bachelor of International Economics and Management program taught entirely in English. But the reason the school will always have great ties is its Master in Fashion, Experience and Design Management program, which should ensure a steady stream of necktie aficionados. Also, this tie illustrates a pet theory of mine, which is that you can take any small pattern, stamp it in a few colors in random placement and orientation on a piece of fabric, and end up with an engaging design. (Of course, if I found a tie that disproved my theory, I wouldn't be showing it.)

Stripes are the new polka dots

A striped tie on Burl Veneer's Tie Blog? That hasn't happened since August 11, 2005! This tie comes from Fred Gil of Italy, and is one of the many neckties by makers unknown on these shores that I've bought from the Modaitalia Store on ebay. I'm not a big fan of striped ties, I think they're kind of boring, but I find the variation in stripe widths and the wide range of colors on this one quite charming. It's like a stick of every-flavor Fruit Stripe chewing gum!

Fish batik

Banana Republic returns to the blog with a cotton batik tie overprinted with bony black fish. (It was slated to be the fifth tie of Fish Week, which was shortened by a day due to illness; it's taken me almost eight months to get back around to it.) This tie must be several years old, from back when Banana Republic had an international travel theme. Their current tie offerings are as bland as white bread; so is the rest of the catalog, for that matter. Sloppier than Lands' End, but about twice the price. What's the point?

Vasarely

My previous tie from J. Blades & Co. alluded to the mid-twentieth-century sculpture of Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth; this tie points to the graphic art of Victor Vasarely. While Verner Panton popularized op art through his textile designs, Vasarely had blazed the way with his paintings and his theory of "multiples," art which could be efficiently (and affordably) reproduced through modern industrial techniques. Vasarely's later works were not paintings at all, but collages of vinyl. To quote Vasarely (as told to Jean-Louis Ferrier):

"Once I had discovered my alphabet, I hastened to put it into material form. I selected six basic colors: a chrome yellow, an emerald green, an ultramarine, a cobalt violet, a red, and a gray. From it I obtained six scales, each with 12 or 13 nuances, ranging from light to dark, and I added colored blacks--a blue black, a red black, a green black, and so on. Then I had tens of thousands of sheets printed by the serigraphic process, and had all the units of my alphabet punched out of them. Placed in cases, like type characters, they are so many form-colors which form the surest and fastest method of realizing my programmings executed on scale paper. By simple collage I obtain exactly what I want, that is, a combination which is both formal and colored, and which I call algorithm or permutation."

That explains the sharpness of line and the uniformity of color within the tiles of his most famous works, such as the Vega series. This tie pales in comparison, but a pale imitation of Vasarely is better than none at all.

(Quote from Vasarely by Gaston Diehl, Crown Publishers, 1976, English edition; translated from the French by Eileen B. Hennesy from original Bonfini Press edition, 1973. See Bridget Riley for more pioneering op art works.)

Martin Wong

In the world of neckties in the style generally known as "deco," Martin Wong is one of the top names, along with Modules, Format, Ziggurat, Zylos, J.T. Beckett, J. Blades & Co., and Ralph Lauren's Polo Hollywood Collection. (I have ascertained that the Martin Wong of Martin Wong Neckwear of Napa, California, is not the same Martin Wong as the artist who died in 1999, or the co-editor of Giant Robot.) Martin Wong's most swing-era-influenced line is the Screenplay collection, which was designed by Robert Taliver. Taliver was with the company for 14 years, and also designed the woven-patterned Insignia collection. (He left Martin Wong to start his own line of ties and a modeling agency, Thee Raspberry Company of St. Louis, Missouri; the company's domain registration has lapsed.) This tie is from neither collection, it's just a plain old "Martin Wong." It appeals to my taste for overlapping shapes, with its group of vertical sigmoids (f-holes?) crisscrossed by wavy horizontal lines. Like many deco ties, the borders are delineated with gold hairlines. Martin Wong Neckwear is "affiliated with" Ambiance Neckwear, Inc., but I can't determine the actual nature of the affiliation.

Return of the Pink Pantser

Warm and sunny weather is firmly established, so that means that (a) unbearably steamy Washington summer weather is just around the corner, and (b) it's time to break out the pink pants again! (Wow, has it really been eight months?!) Today's tie (maker unknown) is, if not an actual Henri Matisse painting, based on Matisse's later (post-1930) style, and contains his recurring "goldfish in bowl" and sprightly wallpaper motifs. The Matisse goldfish bowl is also a popular art project for young children.

The Return of Wemlon

No, Wembley's super-durable Wemlon polyester hasn't returned to the market since its discontinuation in 1979, but it has returned to the blog. There's a lot going on in this tie: the base is made up of very thin stripes of brown, gold, red, orange, and blue, and woven on top of that are the bold, wobbly gold circles, then there are smaller, lighter gold abstract shapes that catch the light at certain angles. In honor of Steve Zissou and The Mighty Boosh's Zooniverse, I have named this tie "Pinstriped Borneo Cheetah." Chika-chika!

Satellite of Love

(Alluding to the mostly nonsensical Lou Reed song.) What are the tiny figures all over this tie? Mrs. Veneer's guess was "eggs and meat cleavers," but that's not it. They are communication satellites! Today I step into the world of the corporate tie, ties meant to be worn by a company's employees, as opposed to ties meant for regular folks to wear to promote a company (e.g. Tabasco, Absolut). If made by a collectible tie maker, corporate ties can be the most valuable of all due to their limited availability; I saw a paint company tie by Hermès fetch around $300 on ebay. No such luck with this one for Eutelsat, as the maker is anonymous, though the quality is top-notch. Eutelsat owns and operates a network of 24 satellites (with more planned), covering much of the world with television broadcasts, broadband internet, mobile phone service, and whatever else they can do with satellites.

Here's a closer look at the pattern:

I have enough corporate ties now to do a theme week, but I decided not to, because they're not good enough to wear for a whole week. So, back to "normal" tomorrow.

Danger, Bill Robinson!

That's what always pops into my head when I think of Bill Robinson (maker of this tie), though it's actually Will Robinson that the Lost In Space robot (whose name was, naturally, Robot) would always warn with that phrase. Will Robinson was played by Bill Mumy; whatever happened to him? Is he just a washed-up has-been like so many other former child stars (Dean Stockwell and Kurt Russell excepted)? No way! He's been an off-and-on member of the band America since the 70s, he was one half of novelty rock act Barnes and Barnes ("Fish Heads") in the 80s (and whenever they still get together, as when they were inducted into the Novelty Music Hall of Fame last year), he was on Babylon 5 for five years, he's done a shipload of voice-over work in cartoons and documentaries on most of the major cable channels, and he's made a whole bunch of albums, both solo and with his band The Jenerators, which he co-fronts with Miguel Ferrer (whose role as the snide but peace-loving Albert in Twin Peaks was the perfect foil for Kyle McLachlan's eccentric Dale Cooper). So in a nutshell, he's doing all right. But back to the tie: it's a basic four-color grid which is livened up by white lines placed at seemingly-random angles, with a nifty jacquard weave (you can just see it at the top) identical to the one on my previous Bill Robinson tie, thus from the same silk stock and most likely the same season.

Fruit!

That's what people kept yelling at me today. Think they meant my tie? It's from Beans McGee, a funny name which is the key signifier of a novelty tie company. While I generally don't wear novelty ties, I couldn't pass up this exuberant melange of fruit. I also couldn't keep the phrase, "Carmen Miranda's ghost is haunting Space Station Three" out of my head today. That's the title and premise of a 1990 science fiction anthology edited by Don Sakers. I've never read it, but I love the title. Delving deeper, the title actually comes from a 1985 filk song by Leslie Fish ("filk" being the sci-fi/fantasy/techie subgenre of folk music, based on a misspelling of "folk" in an essay by Lee Jacobs fifty-odd years ago), the lyrics of which are online here. Carmen Miranda (1909-1955) was born in Portugal but grew up in Brazil; while singing in nightclubs she developed her trademark fruit hat, based on the headdresses of Brazilian market fruit vendors. She quickly became a national superstar, and moved to the United States in 1939, where she captivated Broadway audiences, leading to starring roles in a series of films beginning in 1940. She died after suffering a heart attack during a performance on the Jimmy Durante Show, but left behind the legacy of the fruit hat, one of the most enduring pop icons of the twentieth century.

Psychedelic brocade

Now here's a narrow tie from the first wave of them in the 1960s. I've seen several "rainbow brocade" ties from the 60s and 70s, so they must have been fairly popular. There was a wide variety of designs overlaid onto the background; this one has what look like plastinated smoke swirls (click through to the larger image for a better view of their texture) , or maybe piles of shaving cream. I just sold one on ebay that has aquatic dragons on it. Alas, as with so many ties of its era, the name of the maker got separated from this tie, so all I know about it is that it's made of 100% Rhodia acetate from Italy. The Rhodia company was founded in 1906 as the Société de la Viscose Suisse, making artificial silk out of viscose, and continues today as Rhodia Technical Fibers. Rhodia has diversified into several other fields (and countries, amassing over 30,000 employees worldwide), most prominently chemicals, food, and "eco services." I don't think they're making anything this dazzling anymore, though.

Missoni

A thread of nobility and athletic prowess runs through many of the European fashion houses: Marchese Emilio Pucci was a world-class skier, Oleg Cassini was a French Count, and Ottavio Missoni was a world champion runner (Student World Champion, 400 meters, 1939) and the son of a Countess. Missoni got his start in the fashion world by designing (with his friend Giorgio Oberweger) the track suits for the 1948 Italian Olympic team, of which he was a member. He married Rosita Jelmeni, whose family owned a textile mill, in 1953, and later that year they founded the Missoni company together, specializing in knitwear. Their signature design is a zigzag pattern in boldly contrasting colors, but even the non-zigzag items have colorful designs and rich textures. Missoni is headquartered in Sumirago, Italy, and has a staff of 200, so obviously their success has been great and lasting, and they even have clothing items in several museum collections around the world. (For more about Missoni, there is an excellent article here, with extensive commentary from Mr. Missoni.) This Missoni necktie has a design that looks like pixelated roses, and like last week's Perry Ellis tie is just three inches wide and probably of 1980s vintage. At 60 inches long it's longer than most ties; I had to tie it in a Full Windsor knot to keep it from hanging down too far. The extra wraparounds and the thick lining make the knot pretty big, which looks kind of funny with a narrow tie, but so be it.

Impressionism

The 60s-era impulse to print every color onto polyester resulted in a lot of what Mrs. V. has dubbed "crayon vomit" ties, which I think are great. But when moderated with some tasteful restraint the product could be a vaguely impressionistic design, as on this tie. The maker is Grenada, and the fabric is "100% imported polyester," presumably a nod to the ancient polyester-making traditions of other countries.

I recently addressed two objections to the wearing of neckties, but a third one has occurred to me, which is, "Ties are stupid, they don't serve any purpose." I will address that by saying that ties are no more stupid or purposeless than hats worn indoors, baseball caps worn backwards, belts on tight pants, body piercings, hemp necklaces, bracelets, earrings; any jewelry, for that matter. In fact they all serve the same purpose, which is bodily adornment and signification of belonging to a particular subculture or affinity group. My ties signify that I belong to the group of men who work 9-to-5 desk jobs; but I have also chosen to have some fun within that context, and present to the world ties that give some aesthetic pleasure to the viewer. Actually it's my own aesthetic pleasure that guides my selection of ties, and if people like looking at them, all the better. And if not, that's fine too, just don't call them stupid, thank you.

Primo Polyester

Following up yesterday's tie was a daunting task; even a great tie might seem dull in comparison. Clearly, my only available course of action was to go to the Permanent Collection and pull out a previously-worn but as-yet-unblogged All-Time Favorite. This is one of the CD-logo-embazoned polyester Christian Dior Monsieur ties I mentioned in passing last month. Every tie in that line that I've seen has a fantastic design, super-rich colors, and a complex jacquard weave providing a counterpoint to the print. Since I was raving about overlaps yesterday, this tie is a natural continuation of that theme: a melange of ovals, each with its own interior pattern, overlapping each other to create intricate new patterns in their intersections. Again, this tie provided a pick-me-up all day long, and is now tied with yesterday's tie for my favorite tie on the blog. I won't even try to match this level of exuberance on Monday; I'll use the weekend as a cooling-off period and start next week with a clean slate.

For some fun computer-generated geometric graphics, many of which are eminently suitable for neckties, here's a new link to Levitated.net (previously linked from my Verner Panton tie entry).

Hawaiian Mod

Wow! I really love when patterns are overlaid on each other and their colors allowed to blend to form an additional combinatorial pattern, so it's no surprise that I love this tie! There's a basic grid of eccentric square spirals (which is a cool enough design on its own), then on top of that float two more layers of rounded lozenges which change the color of the grid in different ways. The printing is very precise in that the different colors of the square spirals all line up, which is no small feat. The only label on the tie is the fabric label (100% acetate, definitely vintage), so once again I cannot credit a tie maker. I was excited about this tie all day, and I'm still excited writing about it. I think this is my favorite tie on the blog so far; it may sound like sacrilege, but I find it even more engaging than Puccis. This necktie will now advance to the Permanent Collection.

Perry Ellis

This tie is a Perry Ellis "Handmade," most likely from the mid-1980s when the skinny ties of new wave fashion drove mainstream tie widths down to just 3 inches. Perry Ellis (1940-1986) was a fashion wunderkind, starting his own fashion house in 1978 and becoming the President of the Council of Fashion Designers of America in 1982 (and lauching the career of Isaac Mizrahi, currently bringing style to a Target near you). Tragically, Ellis died in 1986 of AIDS-related complications. He is commemorated by the CFDA's Swarovski's Perry Ellis Award for Best New Designer in menswear and womenswear. And of course the Perry Ellis company lives on, as a billion-dollar multinational corporation.

Sow the wind...

Reap the whirlwind. (Or as Ultravox has it, "Reap the Wild Wind." I've been on a mild Ultravox kick. I prefer the proto-cyberpunk John Foxx version to the more techno-romantic Midge Ure version, but I like that too. I'm leery of the latter-day Foxx-less and Ure-less incarnation, and have stayed away so far.) But is it wind depicted in this tie (from Peachick, hand made in Korea from 100% polyester), or water? Viewer consensus says water, and the swirl-ending flourishes do resemble traditional Asian representations of waves, the best-known of which is undoubtedly Hokusai's "In the Hollow of a Wave off the Coast at Kanagawa" (ca. 1831), a.k.a. "The Great Wave," number one of his Thirty-six Views of Mt. Fuji (which actually contains 46 prints). I'm not suggesting this tie is in Hokusai's league, but it has an interesting design that far outclasses its base material.

Absolute Monarchy

The colors in this tie are the same as those of the monarch butterfly (and its mimic, the viceroy), and they are arranged in roughly the same proportions, but the tie's pattern is more random than the geometric precision of the butterflies' wings. Since I first read about the viceroy in a Ripley's Believe It Or Not Sunday comic thirty-odd years ago, I went with the generally-accepted theory that the viceroy is tasty to predators, but achieved a degree of safety by mimicking the bad-tasting monarch. More recent studies, however, conclude that the viceroy tastes just as bad, so maybe it's just a fashion thing. Speaking of fashion, this necktie is a Stradivari by Park Lane, a label that usually promises a creative and original design.

Guggenheim

Today's tie is from the Guggenheim Museum. I had hoped to identify the piece it's based on, but I've drawn a blank; it's not in their current (very limited) tie offerings, and I couldn't find it by browsing the online collection. If you know what it is, please post a comment!

Pat Argenti

Pat Argenti's route to the fashion world was a strange one. His first career was as a stockbroker; then in 1980, he founded Argenti, Inc. as a wholesaler of primarily women's clothing. Argenti is not a designer; as he tells it:

“Artistic” skills, such as sketching and painting, are not necessary to accomplish design success. What is crucial is the ability to come up with the next great idea to move the business forward. An idea born from watching fashions while sitting in a Paris café turned into a $70 million dollar business.

Argenti focused on finding innovative silk fabrics and patterns throughout Asia (and especially in China) , lowering his per-unit costs by keeping the factories busy year-round, and selling the end products at lower prices than competitors. Somewhere along the way he had some of the silk made into neckties, which show up on ebay occasionally (Argenti, Inc. folded in 1991). I have never seen a dull Pat Argenti tie. They consistently sport bright colors and bold designs, ranging from regular florals through more abstract batik-style designs (e.g. today's tie) to brilliant Pucci knock-offs (and I mean that in a good way).

Pat Argenti is now the Founder/CEO of Silver Miracle, Inc., a merchandising consulting firm. There's a short video of him on this page.

Shorty

This vintage tie from Giofer of Italy is unusually short, at just 50" long (today's standard length is 57"). I think it may have been meant as a boys' tie, but I was able to tie it into an almost-reasonable length (though the tail end did not reach as far as the keeper, so I had to use a handy-dandy pants clip to keep it tucked in). This tie will never be mistaken for a Pucci, but it probably wouldn't have existed without the Marchese's trailblazing designs.

In the absence of anything constructive to say about this tie (I know, that never stopped me before), I would like to address the two most common objections to the wearing of neckties:

1. "They're uncomfortable." That's ridiculous, a tie just hangs on the outside of your shirt, how could that be uncomfortable? The uncomfortable part is not the tie, but the shirt collar when buttoned all the way up. If that is uncomfortable, then you're wearing the wrong size shirt. Get one with a bigger neck size. Unfortunately that usually means every other dimension of the shirt will be bigger; if you end up swimming in the shirt, try on some "fitted" or "trim" or "athletic" sizes. Or if you like being enveloped in voluminous swathes of fabric, that's cool too. A collar extender will also do the trick (it fastens to the top button, then has another button that goes through the top buttonhole), though some are more discreet than others.

2. "It feels too much like a uniform." Not all ties are the same! They don't have to be boring! (I hope I have demonstrated that on these pages.) There's enough variety in neckwear that surely something will appeal to you. Check out ebay, there are 13,000 ties up for auction and another 33,000 for immediate sale, most for much cheaper than retail! Besides, if you're in a "business casual" workplace I think you will agree that the polo shirt is even more of a uniform these days. (And Pretty Lady hates them, by the way.) Let your freak flag fly!

Spring!!! Is!!! Here!!!

The nasty weather went away and left us with a beautiful cloudless sky and temperatures in the 60s, so I now deem it safe to break out the lightweight, bright clothing. To celebrate the advent of "actual" spring (as opposed to "calendar" spring) I wore an airy Gene Meyer tie that is full!!! of!!! exclamation!!! points!!!!! There's really nothing more I can say about it, but if you wish to peruse my previous Gene Meyer entries, please click here.

Rain delay

I was all set for a week of bright spring colors and light fabrics, and then the weather turned rainy and chilly and completely dreary. There was nothing to do but dress darkly and warmly, with corduroy trousers, tweed jacket, and a Kandinsky-inspired Nino Cerruti tie. Nino Cerruti took over his family's fine-wool textile business in Biella, Italy in 1950, at the age of 20, upon his father's death. In 1957 he revolutionized the industry by making the company the first textile mill to launch its own clothing line, Hitman. In 1961 (or 1964, accounts vary) Cerruti hired a young Giorgio Armani to design menswear; Armani would remain with Cerruti until 1970. In 1967, Cerruti opened his own fashion house in Paris, Cerruti 1881 (after the founding year of the original company). Cerruti helmed the business (overseeing several offshoots) until 2001, when he sold it to Italian holding company Finpart, who subsequently licensed the Cerruti name to Rezidor SAS Hospitality (the European Radisson franchise holder) to create the Cerruti hotel brand. However, it appears that Finpart was declared bankrupt last year, dragged down under massive debt incurred by Cerruti France. These chains of holding companies, corporate licensing agreements, joint ventures, and other financial contrivances of modern business make my head spin. It shouldn't take that much to make a nice tie. It's when you want to make more than one that trouble looms.

D.I.Y.

If the eyes are the windows of the soul, then surely neckties are its curtains. (I have anticipated the arguments against this thesis: the eyelids are the blinds, and sunglasses are the shutters.) Even moreso if the necktie was homemade out of curtain material, as I suspect this one was (if not upholstery fabric). The fabric probably dates from the 1930s; at least that's what my father estimates, and I'll take his word for it since he lived through part of that decade himself (the latter part). Since silk is so sheer, the construction of a tie from it requires the silk to be wrapped around a lining or interfacing of a heavier fabric to give the tie its shape (unless using the luxurious and difficult seven-fold method). But with a heavy fabric with some stiffness to it, such as curtain fabric, the interfacing can be dispensed with, making for easier construction, as in today's necktie. I also like the color palette, which you don't see much on ties. I wish I could have pulled more of the magenta flowers through the knot, but I was already pushing the appropriate limit of tie length. At least there was enough for a nice accent.

Addendum: the Tie Yourself In Knots website has a page of instructions for making your own necktie here.

Peek-a-boo

From Bullock and Jones of San Francisco comes this heavy tie with a woven pattern of multicolored circles peeking through a red "surface" in vaguely amoebic swathes. Bullock and Jones was founded in 1853 by Frank Bullock and John Luther Jones, and survived until 2000 (after being bought by Saks) on its reputation for luxury menswear and its latter-day strong catalog sales. But this tale of corporate takeover and closure has a happy ending: the firm was bought back from Saks by the son of its former owner, and reopened in a new location. Hurrah for independent businesses!

Now it can be told

Why did I "have to" wear a Pucci tie a couple weeks ago? Because that's the day that the Greenbelt Gazette sent a photographer to my house to take a picture of me to accompany this article on Greenbelt blogs (or blogging Greenbelters). I wanted to wear a tie that would establish my credibility as a necktie connoisseur, and while there are wide differences of opinion about various collectible brands, I think everyone agrees on Puccis. The article is quite nice, not the "Local Weirdo Collects Obscure Junk" piece that I somewhat feared, so thanks to Sara Schwartz for a great story!

And speaking of connoisseurs, Mark Valentine's tales of "The Connoisseur" (collected in In Violet Veils and Masques and Citadels from Tartarus Press) are the most exquisite weird fiction of the last decade. The Connoisseur is concerned not with luxury consumer goods, but with esoteric arts and philosophies and historical anomalies, usually with a supernatural aspect. Seek out the books (both out of print) and enjoy them with a fine ale, such as my favorite, Weyerbacher Quad, for the ultimate in reading pleasure.

The Brown Whisper

The amazing period neckwear of the dapper gentlemen at Knot a Blog and Will's Vintage Ties piqued my interest in real vintage ties, i.e. from the "swing era" of the 40s and 50s when pants were high-waisted and ties were short, and men called women "dames" and "broads" and "tomatoes" and ogled their "gams." I was lucky to find this rayon tie on ebay; it's "The Brown Whisper" from Wembley, 1950. I know that because it was in unused, mint condition, with its cardboard sleeve-label still intact! I'm sure I've just torpedoed its resale value by wearing it (after 56 years of careful storage), but that's how committed I am to my calling. A popular catch-all key phrase on ebay for anything moderately funky from that period is "Eames era," riding the coattails of Charles and Ray Eames, who popularized the "playful-industrial" look. It's an overused phrase, yet I wouldn't hesitate to use it to describe this tie. "Atomic" works too. Now please excuse me while I go toss back a few with the guys at the Frolic Room.

Update: Here's the label from the tie, which includes such quaint phrases as "For the man in her life," and "Correct color for fall:"

Italy -> France -> Japan

Emanuel Ungaro started his own fashion house in Paris in 1965, after working for the legendary designer Cristobal Balenciaga for six years. This tie's large label proclaims, "Emanuel Ungaro - Modèle Déposé," which means "registered pattern" according to this dictionary. There is a smaller label on the tail end indicating that the tie was made in Italy of 100% silk. Then there is one more label sewn into the opening of the tail end that says "100% silk, Mitsukoshi," which I take to mean that it was originally sold through a Mitsukoshi department store in Japan, probably in the 80s judging by its 3-inch width and modern print style. The Mitsukoshi chain traces its roots back to a single kimono shop that opened in Edo (now Tokyo) in 1673. How's that for provenance?

I'm back!

I took a few days off to entertain our guests from England (including a trip to Philadelphia for a great Josh Rouse concert), which was quite delightful, but now I'm back with more ties. It looks like an airbrushed geometric pattern was used as the basis of this tie pattern. I've always thought the airbrush is best suited for specific genres, such as monsters on van murals (now that "custom choppers" are all the rage, I'm eagerly anticipating a van mural comeback), or rippling muscles and bodice-straining bosoms on fantasy novel covers. But there's always an exception, and this airbrushed rendition of a jumble of overlapping shapes fits right in with the Burl Veneer aesthetic. This is a Modaitalia tie of Italian origin but unknown maker; it has an unusually stiff lining, but makes a beautiful triangular knot. Which leads me to address the issue of dimpling. To dimple or not to dimple? In my mind there are three reasons to dimple your necktie:

1. The tie is insufficiently tapered to prevent bunching up as it emerges from the knot. In this case dimpling keeps the symmetry of the tie, instead of having unsightly bunches at one or both edges at the blade/knot intersection.
   
2. To show off a particularly rich and lustrous fabric. Ties don't drape, they just fall flat, so you don't get the play of light and shadow (a.k.a. chiaroscuro) that shows off a really fine fabric. The dimple provides a little bit of that.
3. You like wearing a dimple. That's a matter of taste. I try to avoid a dimple whenever possible, but I was unable to with the last tie.

If you ever look at tie auctions on ebay, you have probably seen a "dimpler tool" very prominently placed. You don't need a tool! All you need to do is this: pull the blade through the knot; as the knot begins to tighten, press into the middle of the blade with the index finger of the pulling hand to create a dimple; with the other hand, squeeze the knot; then continue pulling the tie through while continuing to squeeze the knot. That will preserve the dimple until the pull-through is complete. And voila!

(In case you're wondering what I wore to the Josh Rouse show, it was this Pucci-inspired Kenneth Cole shirt:)

Homeward Bound

For my final day in Florida I brought along a tie that, while not actually from Florida, seems to fit in with the "Florida style" as defined by the three previous ties. You'll never guess where this tie came from, so I'll just come right out and tell you: The Men's Store at Sears! It's nothing recent, though, probably another one from the Apollo era. After a long day including early conferences, several bus rides, and a delayed flight, I am finally home. I won't have to be separated from my family again until next year's conference in Vegas. Totally worn out from my trip, I'm taking the rest of the week off, so no new ties until Monday (but perhaps one or two archival entries in the interim).

Welcome to Space Station Five

This futuristic masterpiece is from "Pav's Resort Fashions, Palm Beach, Boca Raton." Wow, was there really a time when men wore neckties at resorts? Take me back there! The tie must be from the Apollo era (1963-1972), with Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey and its Space Station Five (where this tie would be right at home) coming on the scene right in the middle of it (1968). Check out the mod jacquard weave, too!

It's day three of the conference, I'm starting to wear down, and I miss Mrs. Veneer and the kids terribly. One more day until we are reunited, and I can't wait.

Men's Stuff

Here is the quintessential Florida necktie brand: Men's Stuff by Lilly Pulitzer of Palm Beach. Is it kitsch or high fashion? It's both, and no one does it like Lilly Pulitzer. Her colors and patterns are completely distinctive. Don't know about these pants, though. I only regret that I don't have the white shoes and belt that would really bring this ensemble to life. (And yes, she is one of those Pulitzers: she married the grandson of publisher Joseph Pulitzer, of the prize.) I'm halfway through the conference; two more ties to go.

A tie on a Sunday?

My conference in Florida began on a Sunday, so I figured I might as well put on a tie in the morning for the flight down and save myself the trouble of putting one on in the middle of the day. While the conference dress code is "business casual," I can't conceive of working without a tie; so I've chosen casual ties for the four days of the conference. Casual Florida ties, at that (and never mind that they don't look anything like the ties of bona fide Floridian Mike Segers; I'm more after the "concept of Florida," if you will). This is a hand-printed tie (silkscreen on cotton, I believe) from Key West Fashions. I knew I picked the right tie when I went to the check-in counter at the airport: I got my boarding pass, checked my bag, and the clerk said, "Welcome back to Orlando." Back? Now if that's not just a stock phrase that the clerks have to tell everybody (and I refuse to believe it is), then I can only assume she mistook me for a Floridian. Yes! Then one of the security screeners told me he liked my tie. Then, when I got off the plane in Orlando, who was sitting on the very first seat next to the door but... John Waters! He didn't say anything about my tie, though; he must have wanted to respect my privacy, so I returned the favor. Several more people complimented me on my tie throughout the day, so my trip is off to a good start. Oh yeah, I also learned stuff, too, and saw a motivational speech from Boston Philharmonic conductor Ben Zander, which was nice.