I run into Alexander Julian every so often at menswear events. He’s always mentioning his family shop — Julian’s of Chapel Hill, NC — and how it helped popularize the Ivy League Look during the heyday.
Well last week Alex lost his uncle Milton Julian, who was a partner in Julian’s before he set off on his own with Milton’s Clothing Cupboard. Originally from Massachusetts, the reports of Julian’s death in the local media specifically mentioned his role in exposing Ivy in the South.
The News & Observer writes:
Julian got his start in the clothing business working with Maurice at Julian’s College Shop on Franklin Street. The store first served servicemen training in Chapel Hill and later dressed young men returning to college. The brothers previously rented and sold bikes to UNC students.
In 1948, Milton Julian opened his own shop – Milton’s Clothing Cupboard – on West Franklin Street. The store moved to 163 E. Franklin St. in 1952, where it stayed until 1992. Milton’s served a gamut of locals and visitors, from college students and residents to well-known personalities, such as jazz singer Nat “King” Cole, basketball star James Worthy and former Gov. Terry Sanford.
Julian was an innovator who brought the preppy Ivy League-look to Chapel Hill and the South, family members said. The business boomed, expanding to Atlanta, Dallas, Charlotte and other cities.
“I gave students insight on how to dress like a man and helped men dress with more style,” Julian said in 2013, when the Chapel Hill Historical Society named him a Town Treasure. “I was innovative. I educated and I had a lot of fun. Milton’s wasn’t a club, but it was the next best thing to it.”
It was Julian’s affinity for sales that earned him the nickname “the poor man’s Brooks Brothers,” friends said.
Daniel C. Greenwood’s debut Millenial Fogey column on Brooks Brothers certainly stirred up discussion. It especially stirred up Chris Sharp, Ivy Style’s normally circumspect and disinterested assistant editor, known for his well researched historical pieces. He found himself inspired to lay his heart bare to the brand so dear to him that he recalls shopping excursions more vividly than otherwise more important days in his life.
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Daniel C. Greenwood’s recent piece, “Why do we get so worked up Over Brooks Brothers?” is well timed coming after New Year’s, as I am still in throws of a lingering Auld Lang Syne-style emotional hangover. His piece is certainly a reminder that I hold Brooks Brothers partially responsible for my condition.
Like a Dickensian ghost, an image of a lost Brooks Brothers executive haunts my subconscious. He asks me, “How can Brooks Brothers be relevant in 2015?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to be relevant myself,” I reply. Then I offer the phantasm this: “But I can tell you how to be Brooks Brothers, in case you’ve forgotten.”
It seems that Mr. Greenwood pounding on his keypad is answering the same ghost. He is among the millions of fingers on keyboards expressing frustration on websites and Internet forums. A legion of middle-aged men and young fogeys who are telling Brooks Brothers how to be Brooks Brothers. The problem for us is that Brooks Brothers does not seem to be answering that question.
In that case, a more to-the-point query might be, “Why does it sometimes feel like we care more about Brooks Brothers than Brooks Brothers itself?” But answering that might take a team of mental health professionals. It is certainly about us, how we feel about the past, and how we view the future. I am reminded of the Annie Tempest cartoon in which an airchaired old curmudgeon says to his pal over a glass of scotch, “The future’s is not what it used to be, Dickie.” (Continue)
Daniel C. Greenwood (“DCG” in the comments section, and the singer in our Christmas recital video) herein debuts the first in a series of musings on the current retail landscape for trad clothing. He brings a fresh and young voice to Ivy Style, being under 30 yet with a great interest in this style’s long history. Having had the face of a 35-year-old since before he started shaving, Greenwood’s column will go by the name The Millennial Fogey.
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Sitting on the train recently something stole my attention from my better half. As I furiously hammered away at my smart phone, she asked me if everything was OK, and was suprised I said of course. Apparently she thought I was dealing with some terrible emergency.
In fact I was commenting on a Brooks Brothers social media post describing dressing up sweatpants with a navy blazer.
In my increasingly excited state, I rattled off a whole list of changes I wanted to see: taking the lining out of the oxford collars, fixing the fit of Own Make and bringing the price down, improving the design of its paisley ties, the rise and finish of its khakis — I could have gone on all day. My ever-patient girlfriend rolled her eyes and watched me chew out a billion-dollar apparel company on the Internet.
Strange how I don’t have the kind of arguments with my girlfriend that I do with Brooks Brothers.
What is it about Brooks Brothers that inspires such passion in us? More to the point, why has the relationship between traditional menswear consumers and Brooks Brothers gotten so dysfunctional? Naturally there are men who were Brooks Brothers customers in the good ol’ days of the Ivy heyday through the late ’80s, and can quickly list everything they miss about the Brooks of yore. There are also younger menswear enthusiasts who comb through Internet archives, photographs, illustrated catalogues, and other evidence of this once beyond-reproach institution of American style and can’t help but agonize that we were born too late. (Continue)
Last week I tweeted a one-liner about wearing a polo shirt under my oxford on a day when I wanted an extra layer. I thought it would make for an interesting post, particularly with a vote. I mean, how many of you actually do that? Then sure enough yesterday a member of our Facebook group posted the photo above, and the matter is officially up for debate.
Your other traditional preppy option, as this 1982 photo shows, is a jersey turtleneck under an oxford:
Today Lehigh University put up a lengthy profile on G. Bruce Boyer from a piece that ran in the school’s alumni magazine. I supplied some quotes about my avuncular colleague who’s certainly inspired me in my own writings on clothes. Check it out here. — CC
