The following is part two of Ivy Style’s interview with Ken C. Pollock (pictured ca. 1985).
IS: What’s it been like to watch the steady decline in quality and availability of traditional clothing since your college days?
KP: It’s been sad and distressing. In the early ’70s, it became very hard to get any of it. Even Ivy League manufacturers started widening their lapels and tie widths. I did get some of it, then threw it away seven years later. It was the grimmest period, as far as trying to get clothing. Today may even be grimmer, as far as fewer people wearing the kind of clothes I wear, but there are a few suppliers like Southwick and Polo.
I wear a little Ralph Lauren Purple Label, but right now most of my suits are either Brooks Brothers’ Golden Fleece or Samuelsohn. I do go to Savile Row sometimes and have things custom made. I go to Anderson & Shepherd and Henry Poole, and have them make the stuff more Americanized, with more of a natural shoulder.
IS: You often lament the decline in variety since Ivy’s heyday.
KP: It’s a lot harder for me to find the traditional clothing that I really like. There’s such a limited amount, and nobody is really inventive anymore. It’s not a dynamic clothing now. Brooks and Press just turn out the same thing year after year, so I’ve moved into more English clothing for variety. I’d gotten used to much, much more variety because manufacturers had been selling to such a large market. I still don’t understand why Brooks Brothers has to turn out the same gray herringbone sportcoat for the last 50 years, when they could put a blue windowpane in it to vary it a little bit.
IS: When you say it’s not inventive, what would you like to get that you can’t?
KP: The most inventive person was Sidney Winston at Chipp. He was the one who invented, or at least took to the logical extreme, patching, such as with madras and tweed. I’m sure O’Connells and Cable Car Clothiers have been doing the same thing for 50 years, but there’s no reason why you can’t be more inventive. (Continue)
Ken C. Pollock wears fine shoes today, but there was a time when he held his Bass Weejuns together with duct tape.
Of course, that was for style, not because he was impecunious.
Born in Birmingham, Alabama and raised primarily in Roanoke, Virginia, the son of an immigrant from Belarus and a small-town Alabama girl of Austrian descent, the 67-year-old, Atlanta-based attorney has worn the Ivy League Look since he was a student at New Orleans’ Tulane University from 1959-1965.
In the above photo, taken with his fraternity brothers in 1962, Pollock is top row, second from left. (Talk-show ringleader Jerry Springer is top row, second from right.)
Pollock is known in Tradsville for his perspicacious observations shared on various forums, as well as for an essay in 2004 in which he says he took terms commonly used in the past — Traditional Natural Shoulder Ivy League — and coined the acronym TNSIL. “I may have been the first to coin the acronym,” he says. “I had never seen it used by anyone else.”
Ivy Style spoke with Mr. Pollock about traditional style through the decades, from his college days during Ivy’s heyday, to the decline of the look in the ’70s (“the grimmest period”) and the 21st-century era of menswear blogs and forums.
Ivy Style’s conversation with Mr. Pollock will be posted in two installments. Readers will especially want to stay tuned for the rousing finale, in which Pollock reveals the staggering size of his wardrobe. (Continue)
In honor of Election Day, Ivy Style presents the second in its series of articles from the vaults of Time magazine. For this one, commentary is provided by a Washington insider writing under the pseudonym Taliesin.
Traditional Ivy style is rarely exhibited by the most visible Ivy League graduates: politicians.
For instance, George W. Bush (Yale, Harvard) and Barack Obama (Columbia, Harvard) are never seen wearing sack suits, button down collars, or regimental striped ties.
So when and why did establishment Ivy Leaguers abandon the Ivy look?
“Goodbye to Wing Tips,” a Time article from 1973, captures the mood of an angry public that no longer wanted to see its leaders in traditional clothing. In the middle of Watergate, the establishment look — “three-piece Yale-gray suits, white shirts and club ties” — started to become a liability, and wilder, newer styles came to be seen as evidence of credibility — or at least as the absence of taint.
This, at least, was the contention of John T. Molloy, the “Dress for Success” author and wardrobe consultant. As America reeled from the political scandal that would force President Nixon’s resignation less than a year later, the article notes that “the more conservative the costume… the shadier the image.”
Thirty-five years later, it’s unlikely that the Ivy League Look is associated with disrepute. After all, some of the heroes of Watergate wore sack suits, such as Elliot Richardson (pictured above in a photo by Richard Avedon) and Archibald Cox.
It’s harder to say if the look still conveys snobbishness, or instead has become a fashion option without class or establishment connotations. Today’s politicians almost uniformly prefer the boardroom executive look — strong-shouldered suits, spread-collar French-cuffed shirts, and tastefully plain neckties — as the way to convey reliability and seriousness.
It is this latter trait that Ivy items such as whale ties, red trousers and rumpled oxford-cloth shirts probably lack in the eyes of the average voter. Indeed, the Ivy look seems to occupy an unusual position between the extremely casual, denim-and-fleece clothing of most Americans, and the dressy executive style favored by politicians. This is a paradox, as many items of Ivy clothing come across as both too fashionable and too old fashioned, too casual and too dressed up. It is therefore understandable that risk-averse politicians and their image consultants would shy away from such uncontrollable and conflicting messages.
And yet, Time notes that even as the political establishment self-destructed, all was not lost for the Ivy League Look. Molloy advocated basic Ivy staples to enhance Senator Ted Kennedy’s credibility: “short hair parted on the side, blue blazers and gray flannel slacks, loafers and preppy ties.” The style, handled correctly and executed in its most basic terms, could still convey both seriousness and innocence in the darkest days of Watergate, and it most certainly can do the same today.
This is not the case for the clothing that, according to Time, sought to replace it: “the mod suit with wide lapels and nipped waist worn over a pastel-patterned shirt.” — TALIESIN
Editor’s note: For more on George W. Bush’s uneasy relationship with his alma mater, including his eschewing of sockless Weejuns in favor of cowboy boots, see this Time article from 2001.