The Closet Questions: Trench coats, plutocrat shoes and the noisy nonsense of “Quiet Luxury”
Your burning style conundrums answered in the May edition of The Closet Questions
Welcome, one and all, to your May edition of The Closet Questions; my monthly “ask me anything” column, for which I take your style questions, answer them, and with any luck leave you feeling as edified as I do tired, having written this late on a Friday night post-work (*I love my Substack, I love my Substack, I love my Substack*).
For this round of The Closet Questions I’ve decided to keep the askers’ identities anonymous, to save any blushes. It means a great deal that you lot subscribe (it really does!) so you can ask any and all questions under the cover of digital darkness from here on in - provided they’re not (too) lewd.
I suppose we’d better get on with it, then.
Question one: Loro Piana’s Summer Walk loafers. Should I?
I love dressing like a stealthily wealthy quasi-master of the universe as much as the next quite insecure man, and there’s no better way of doing this than by shucking on a pair of Loro Piana’s bank account–crippling white soled shoes of world domination.
You need only visit any major public event where the venn diagram of money and taste intersects and you’ll see what I mean. Take Frieze, for instance. Every September, the world’s creamiest-fingered plutocrats descend on London’s Regent’s Park for a three-day-long art-a-thon during which they spend long hours walking the carpeted halls of the fair, observing - and spending vast sums of money on - the newest (and oldest) works of art from the world’s finest galleries.
Look down and you’ll notice that one in every three (not a real stat) men is wearing a pair of Loro Piana’s flagship loafers. Art World zaddy Jay Jopling only wears his cut from caiman skin - said shoes cost over four grand - whilst Kendall Roy (not yet spotted at Frieze, granted) sports a pair on holiday in Italy during the third season of Succession.
The shoes, as you’ll probably know, are identifiable by their snoutish moccasin uppers and milky white rubber soles. They’re the kind of shoes which say “I could wear these on my yacht, but I’ve got slippers made from the hides of deceased servants for that”, and “I love my children, but I love my PJ more”. They’re low-key yet high-key all at once, they’re the epitome of the current “quiet luxury” obsession (more on which later), and they’re actually really comfortable.
So to answer your question, anon, I adore them.
The sad news for Loro Piana, which first released the loafers under the guise of “sailing shoes” back in 2005, is that other brands have recently started to catch on to the fact that the shoes are suede and rubber goldmines. So serious has the rash of counterfeit Summer Walks become that the company recently released a campaign with the bullish strap line “Worn by those who do. Copied by those who don’t”. Eek.
So sure, if you do fancy stepping on to the, let’s call it “soft luxury”, pathway trod by the LVMH-owned brand’s flagship shoe, you could buy a surprisingly similar (yet infinitely more affordable) pair from the likes of Suit Supply, Auralien or Russell & Bromley, but I’m a sucker for being scrupulously honest in my approach to dressing like a counterfeit billionaire, so if you see me this summer, you’ll see me in a pair from Loro Piana.
Just don’t ask me to buy you a work of art (or a coffee, for that matter), as I won’t be able to afford it.
Question two: How do you wear a trench coat? I love mine but I don’t really get it.
I feel your pain, anon. Trench coats, despite being one of the most long lived and venerable members of the outerwear family, are notoriously difficult to wear.
The main issue is that there’s so much going on. From the double breasted construction, to the storm pockets, epaulettes, belt and storm flap on the back, what trench coats lack in minimalism they might make up for in practicality (there’s a reason why First World War army Officers wore them in the trenches - geddit?), but they’re fussy nonetheless.
I’ll level with you. I own three trench coats. One is cut from heavy-ish wool, another from traditional gabardine and the final one is made from black lambskin. The first thing to note is that I vastly prefer wearing the wool version, primarily because the weight of the fabric keeps all the flaps and wispy bits weighed down and neatly in place.
Gabardine, being lightweight, has a habit of getting irritatingly whipped up in inclement weather, which might have looked good on Michelle Pfieffer and George Clooney in One Fine Day, but it makes mere mortals like you and me resemble car wash mascots caught in a wind tunnel.
So, if I were you, I’d opt for a trench in a weightier fabric. Not least because you’ll only be able to wear your gabardine one without wanting to set it free to the wind for a few short weeks in May.
When it comes to styling your trench coat, the key is to avoid wearing other fussy garments beneath it. Shirts, for instance, come with plenty of flappiness of their own and just add to the windswept origami ostrich vibes. That being said, you could lean into WOO look by wearing a cotton or gabardine trench with a silk shirt and foulard, which will feel very Heathcliff on hols in Casablanca.
A roll neck always looks good with a trench coat - as proven by Vanessa Redgrave in Daniel Lee’s first campaign for Burberry. The National treasure is pictured wearing one of the brand’s classic caramel gabardine trench coats with a chunky white roll neck, and she looks as chic as you’d expect her to.
Failing that, a simple crew neck merino wool sweater with a tonal scarf will add simple, flap-free layers beneath your trench without bringing any extra complication - and as we’ve established, when it comes to trench coats, less complication is, well, more.
Question three: I keep hearing the term “quiet luxury”. What does it actually mean? Should I be buying different clothes?
It absolutely shouldn’t affect the way you shop. Fashion can, on occasion, be mind-numbingly binary and infuriatingly fickle, and the latest move towards the expensive minimalism perfected by The Row, Saint Laurent, Studio Nicholson et al (all brands I Iove, btw), is simply a “bored now” response to the maximalism pedalled by the likes of Alessandro Michele at Gucci (who was arguably ousted for his dedication to MORE) and the late Virgil Abloh at Louis Vuitton.
If you like wearing lary stuff covered in logos, wear lary stuff covered in logos. If you like monochromatic cashmere jumpers which cost more than the GDP of Eswatini, wear monochromatic cashmere jumpers which cost more than the GDP of Eswatini. Trends come and go but your personal taste is with you for life, so feed the latter, starve the former.
Question four: What was your favourite Met Gala look and why?
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, but no one looks better in a suit than Bill Nighy.
The man just understands the power of a proper cut. His simple midnight blue two piece afforded him the stature of a man half his age by virtue of the length of his jacket, the weight of the fabric and the drape of the leg.
Get a tailor, make it a good one (I have it on authority that Nighy likes suits from Zegna, Dunhill and Ritchie Charlton), and you might just land yourself a role as a lovable-yet-grizzled old rogue in a Richard Curtis movie.
Might.