on fashion

this past tuesday, i found myself dining at jardiniere with half a dozen members of a prominent local family (who made their name in oil). although the meal realized its usual lofty standards -- sublime was the liberty farms duck breast with seared foie gras -- the service disappointed.

on this, an unsually chilly san francisco evening, the valet moved without the expected celerity, leaving us standing out in the open air for a solid ten minutes. as a consequence of being chilled to the bones, we began a discussion of our chosen yarns. admittedly, i could feel the stiff bay breeze, but with the impeccable construction of my gray, three-button, hand-tailored borelli suit, i braved the elements with nary a grimace on my face.

however, standing directly across from me, my friend shivered mericilessly as each gust brought with it increasing agony. i made a crack about new money and cotton suits, which unsurprisingly elicited a hardy bellow from my companions (new money is the epitome of low-hanging fruit with regards to humor). "it's what i get for buying zegna off the rack," he responded.

"you mean z for zegna," i blurted out, obviously feeling feisty this evening.

and then the strangest thing happened. his chin fell and his gaze sunk into the sidewalk. clearly, i had made this remark completely unaware that the situation could be represented in reality. granted, the material of his suit lacked the appropriate drape of a fine garment, but i attributed this to the sommelier's exquisite wine pairing and an indulgent glass of tokaji to culminate the meal. my friend, who out of respect for possible damage to reputation, will remain nameless. but let me say that my friend possesses considerable means and generally displays a well above-average sartorial sense. since when did he start shopping at macy's (or some other similarly sleazy super-store)?

i share this story at considerable expense to myself. after all, one defines himself largely by the company he keeps. so to know a close acquaintance found the economic line of a marginal-to-begin-with designer clearly sheds an unfavorable light on all of us in attendance.

but these writings mean to guide, hence such essential cautionary tales cannot go untold. these aspirational clothing lines must be realized for the scourge they are. simply having the name of a mid-level designer will not raise you to that level. emporio armani does not mean armani any more than armani exchange, or moreover armani jeans, does. the same goes for z for zegna, marc by marc jacobs, etc.* a name is a name. once the name changes, so does the garment. and thus what it says.

it announces you strive for a world not within your reach. is this the message you wish to convey? i thought not.

* i sincerely hope this goes without saying. but outlets** cannot be taken seriously. let us be plain so as to avoid an expensive misunderstanding. outlet clothing derives from two sources. either a) it did not meet the usual standards at the main store and has been relegated to the dusty racks of this discount factory or b) it was always destined for this purgatory. the former indicates that despite it not being good enough for the undiscerning general public, you find it sufficient. the latter exemplifies aspirational wear. a garment never thought of worthy of the name it carries, dropped into this retail nightmare to dupe the unrefined.

**for what reason, do "banana republic" and "diesel" outlets? i admit, when first told of such entities, i assumed it to be lively joke. but yes, these places do exist. confusing. does this mean the stores of these off-brand clothiers that litter my fair city are "flagship" locations?