p>His name is Langton Willms. He’s young but has already spent a decade in the clothing business. And he’s on a mission.

He will advise those too young to remember that in a time before off-shoring and out-sourcing, Toronto had an enormous clothing scene. Designers, jobbers, cutters and importers all occupied several thriving fashion streets. One of those boulevards of brocade dreams was Dundas Street West. It is in the heart of what is still called The Junction, a name that harkens back to the area’s rail-driven industrial past. Dundas West features a mix of edgy restaurants and studios specializing in reclaimed design, and it is here that Langton has planted his flag in his personal battle to put the city back on the fashion map.

His shop, Gerhard Supply, features shirts, jackets, jeans, belts, ties, and even personal grooming supplies. All of it is made in Toronto.

Willms argues that the wave of fashion revival in Toronto has been building for some time. Colleges are busily turning out graduates, and small sewing and design houses are popping up everywhere. Still, it takes a keen, experienced surfer to spot the wave in time to be able to get on it, and ride it in.

It is not an axe. It’s a maul. An axe is graceful, curved, and as light as possible. A maul is heavy, blunt, and magnificently effective. It is purpose built for splitting wood. It is an instrument that – if wielded properly – allows the civilized homeowner the opportunity to briefly embrace the out of doors and then extravagantly reward oneself with a roaring fire and a good book.

Weighing in anywhere from three to four kilos, the maul has a sledgehammer handle and dull wedge business end. It is about weight hefted accurately. And like all great exercises of power, it must be done with purpose and with an ultimate goal in mind.

Like snooker, where the shooter imagines the ball in the pocket, or the surfer who keeps an eye on the wave and not the board, the maul swinger thinks past the upright end of the log. Imagine instead the ground beneath. The log itself is not a worthy adversary. With warmth and a satisfied sense of accomplishment as the final goals, you imagine your downstroke hitting the log and passing straight through. You are envisioning the victory, not anticipating the battle.

Once you get dressed in outerwear appropriate to the work and weather, pick up the maul and head to the woodpile. You are walking in the determined bootsteps of your forebears. They were good providers. They sawed, chopped, and split their way into the history books. As you lift, swing, and stack, it is not hard to imagine yourself in their august company.

If you think we’re making too much of all this mauling, if we sound a little overly zen about wallopping a log with a chunk of forged metal, if you think you can’t draw enormous life lessons from some mundane household chore, we invite you to try it some time. On second thought, we dare you.

We must begin by apologizing unreservedly to you and to those who have loved us over the years, and even to ourselves. We deserved better. And for a long time we did not know it.

We had obfuscated for years over buying a tailor-made suit. We’re an active lot here at The Department. When it comes to business clothing, fit and comfort are key, but so is value. Why, we argued, would we spend 4 to 5-thousand dollars for a tailor-made suit that would be worn infrequently and even then, gingerly. Even more unpalatable was the prospect of paying into the coffers of an international brand name that already makes off-the-rack suits. Forking over even more money for the dubious double cache of having that recognizable name on something “made to measure.” Now, though, we have no excuses left. It was a recent trip to Hong Kong that tipped the balance.

One of our Hong Kong operatives was kind enough to suggest Y William Yu (contact details are below). It has been there for some forty years. This associate of ours had purchased a tuxedo, and reports that a decade of galas and embassy dinners had not faded it one whit.

There’s a store-front window on the street, but the shop itself is one level down. We were met by the congenial Andy Wong. He’s the face of Y William Yu. He does the measuring, the consultation on the fabric, and the fittings. Y William has a team of tailors that is strictly divided by garment. The trousermen do just pants. The jacketmen, well, you get it. Andy Wong also travels to several major North American cities twice a year on sales trips. They take your measurements and will mail the suit back.

Ideally though, three fittings are the way to go. We were in Hong Kong for a week, so it worked out perfectly. A pre-trip phone call got us an appointment for measuring on our first morning in the city. Stunningly, we were invited back that same day, in the late afternoon for the first fitting. Y William Yu is on Mody Road, on the Kowloon side, just off Nathan Rd. Any downtime between fittings can be easily filled with an elaborate afternoon tea at the Peninsula, or a ride on the Star Ferry. In fact, it might be said that having to amuse oneself in Hong Kong whilst waiting for your new suit(s) to be made is the height of fabulous, indolent luxury.

The measuring process is an eye opener. Of course dimensions of the shoulders, arms, and inseam are all taken, but it is the extra effort to record three separate chest measurements, another three around the waist, and two each of the thighs and biceps that really give you confidence that this suit will fit like no other.

Andy and the team are also open to any suggestions you might have. We thought lapels on the vest of our grey sharkskin suit would be a nice touch. And they were. So too when it came to the lining. Always wanted crimson, pink, or sky blue inside your favourite suit? Now is your chance.

The lads at Y William also add plenty of their own extras. All the sewing is done by hand. The buttons are made of bone. They sew in a piece of suit fabric in the armpits to protect that fabulous silk lining from sweat. The trousers have a “heel guide”- an extra piece of cloth inside, to prevent your shoes from wearing the material out prematurely.

But the proof is in the final fitting. To say it is momentous would not be an exaggeration. Every warp and weft fits; shoulders are straight and the waist tapered. There is no accumulation of surplus material under arms or at the hips. It fits you. Like a second skin. It is as if everything you had worn in a suit before was mere utilitarian covering: Like a tarpaulin.

You leave the shop with your new suit(s) over your arm, headed for the airport, knowing that you are changed forever. You expect more now from your clothes. People will ask if you have lost weight. There is a spring in your step. It will be the lightness of gait of one who has taken the extra time and effort be significantly better dressed. It is the well-tailored forward energy of one who knows there is no turning back.

Y William Yu Tailors can be found at 46 Mody Road, Kowloon, (852) 2369 2141, ywmyu@netvigator.com

It is actually called Upper Lascar Row, but no one calls it that. It is Cat Street in Hong Kong. And it comes with a slightly shady past. In ancient Cantonese, thieves were rats, and those who dealt with them cats, and so the name stuck.

It is a collection of stalls and shops laden with ceramics, Buddhas (both laughing and of other temperament) knives, erotica, stamps, charms, clocks, and of course, a small army of Maoist tchotchkes. It still retains an air of jumbled authenticity, even if the coins and jades aren’t necessarily from the dynasty they claim.

Located in the Mid Levels on Hong Kong Island, Cat Street is a pedestrian thoroughfare that runs parallel to the much more organized and expensive array of antique emporiums that is Hollywood Road.

The variety of merchandise, the sheer volume of the antiques, and the aggressively inviting shop and stall owners is enough to take you back to a time when pickpockets trolled the alleys and markets and pirates plied the seas; all intersecting here in Hong Kong.

Bring your wallet, curiosity, and a sense of wonder. You may find that deal of a lifetime or just the experience of one.

It might be easier to say who Bill King hasn’t played with. Over the past half century, pianos seduced by this strapping lad from Indiana have backed up Linda Ronstadt, Janis Joplin, Martha Reeves, The Pointer Sisters, Ronnie Hawkins, John Allan Cameron, and Stan Rogers. And there are hundreds more he arranged for, composed for, backed up, and hung out with. With black and white; playing classical, jazz, rock, blues, soul, and boogie. On the East and West Coasts of the continent, in Europe, and Asia, Bill has been there.

His first teacher had been the “Father of the Blues” W.C. Handy’s keyboardist. In Greenwich Village in the 1980s he was the house piano player at Louis Jordan’s bar. He played on countless demo recordings at Atlantic records. He has been on some of the great concert stages around the world. Since moving to Canada in the 1970s he’s founded his own record label, published his own Jazz Magazine (Jazz Report), and is the musical director of the Beaches Jazz Festival, an annual event that attracts hundreds of thousands to a massive outdoor venue on Toronto’s waterfront.

Bill King continues to be active at a pace that would exhaust men half his age. Touring, recording, and producing.

The Department of Style caught up with him at a recording studio where he was working on his latest project. Bill King is not just a man of style. He is a man of many styles.

Simply put, the place is a winter wonderland, and one of the best-kept secrets we know of.
It seems everyone has heard of Lake Placid, but precious few make the trip. A few people we’ve talked to have gone in the summer, but it is winter where it comes into its own.

Lake Placid is a small town in the middle of New York State’s High Peaks region, and it looks a lot like a European ski village. This is no accident. Around the turn of the 20th century, numerous rich and famous folks began developing the area for winter sports. By the 1920s there were facilities for skiing, ski jumping, speed skating and more. Then came the moment Lake Placid became forever known for.

The town hosted the Winter Olympics in 1932. Then in 1980 it became only the third city ever to host the Winter games twice. To this day, Lake Placid relies on this legacy to attract winter sports enthusiasts.

After the 1980 games, Lake Placid fell out of favour with the rich and famous, and they moved on. For the rest of us, it was the best thing that ever happened to the place. It doesn’t have the glitz or glamour of St Moritz, Aspen or Whistler. That keeps the prices reasonable and frankly, it means people go there for the right reasons – to ski, skate and have a good time rather than gawk at celebrities or go to an overpriced restaurant just so they can brag about it later.

From the chance to skate on an Olympic speed skating oval, to the downhill skiing at Whiteface, the games of shinny played on Mirror Lake every day, the dogsled rides and the chance to barrel down the track in a real bobsled, we’ve always been a bit overwhelmed with stuff to do. We also caught the World Cup Aerials competition while we were there this winter, which had the feel of a mini X Games.

Lake Placid has been on our destination list for many winters and will continue to be for some time. Just don’t tell any of the Winterati about it. We need to keep this a secret.

While assembling equipment for a charity road rally (appropriate outerwear, hats, stopwatch, notebooks and pens, etc.), we found ourselves in one of the city’s pre-eminent military surplus stores. We bought a couple of pairs of goggles. We did so, we told ourselves (and anyone else who asked) to protect the driver and navigator’s eyes from the swirling winds of the dusty trail. The goggles worked, both for protection and to drive our charity vehicular efforts to new heights of automotive fashion. But more than that, the stop in at the surplus store (hung floor to ceiling with khaki hats, trousers, and jackets) has prompted some thoughts about the perfect interweaving of form and function that is military surplus.

Military clothing is, in a word, practical. It is made to the highest possible tolerance for wear, tear, and weather. It is purchased by governments that spare no expense to clothe and protect their people in uniform. And with its classic lines and accoutrements, military wear can look good as well. There is, as they say, something about someone in uniform.

Take the jackets, for instance. Plenty of doubly reinforced pockets, heavy duty buttons, and they’re everywhere: breast pockets angled for easy access, spacious side pockets. Some even feature large pockets in the back of the jackets. Then there are the elbow patches, often with rubber lining; so too with the shoulders, reinforced and secretly rubberized. We even found one that had a neat 2 inch hole cut (and reinforced, of course) in the armpits. A brilliant accommodation for staying cool during strenuous outdoor activity.

The trousers and sweaters too are extra strong, with large pockets, and extra material in the places where it counts.

We recently purchased a pair of World War II woolen trousers: heavy, lined wool, button fly, snug at the waist with plenty of room in the legs. Combined with a pair of vintage braces and you have the perfect khaki combination.

The secret is, of course, not to go completely over the top with surplus. Combine those woolen trousers with a tweed jacket, an Irish knit sweater, or an oxford cloth shirt. We love those black steel-capped boots but don’t wear them with the surplus trousers or you’ll start to look AWOL. Might we suggest the boots with jeans or chinos, and wear brogues with the military trousers. One jacket we purchased included instructions: ”If zipper snags, DON’T FORCE!” Always good advice in matters of style, and indeed for most of the rest of life too.

While there’s a sea of green out there in the surplus world, it need not all be drab. Recent events have created an influx of desert colours and mottled camouflage. Depending on the branch of the service that captures your eye, you can find clothing in blue, grey, black, and even red.

Every one of the international clothing chains has its own version of the military jacket these days; with multiple pockets, sometimes with a drawstring at the waist, others with hoods, epaulettes, even faux regimental insignia. So too, with the imitation military trousers, shorts, shirts, and sweaters. But the material is often half the thickness of the real thing and twice or three times the price.

For years we’ve advised friends who are in the market for a peacoat to please steer clear of the mall or any big name shop. Head straight for the military surplus store, get yourself an authentic, quality garment, and be happy that you also just saved a few hundred dollars.

Whether your next adventure takes you to foreign mountain tops, lakeside camping or simply ambling out to the pub, you might want to consider adding a little government issue to the wardrobe. Drop by your local surplus store and enjoy digging through the racks and rafters. And if you can’t find any clothing that suits your taste, there’s plenty of other great equipment for the intrepid: belts, gloves, flashlights, scarves, knapsacks and yes, goggles.

Some instructions on the large inner label of one Canadian Armed Forces winter coat from the 1970s:

-USER LABEL-COAT, COMBAT G5

-The breast pocket and side pockets are designed to carry 20 rd (round) rifle magazines. The nylon loops in the side pockets keeps the mags secure and prevent rattling. Use them! Use the breast pocket for personal items.

-The drawcord at the bottom hem can be tightened to keep out cold, wind, hold the coat close to body when pockets are heavily loaded and to prevent billowing when para-jumping.

-If zipper snags DON’T FORCE! Work loose gently. Lubricate with pencil lead or candle wax.

-Launder only. DON’T DRY CLEAN, STARCH, DO NOT PRESS THIS GARMENT.

-DO NOT REMOVE THIS LABEL.

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Bang Bang 70′s is easy to miss but once discovered, is impossible to forget. It is on a second floor amongst the wonderful blend of cafes and shops in Hong Kong’s Soho district. You are buzzed in and climb the stairs to enter a treasure trove, or rather a leather trove.

Parker is the owner. He, along with his brother, search the world for bags, wallets, belts, suitcases, briefcases, even saddlebags. Many look like new but in fact some date to the 19th century. All are a crammed into a small space. But range and quality like this doesn’t come cheap. You can pay thousands of dollars for a Victorian suit bag, or a briefcase made from two alligators, or a vintage Chanel purse.

Part of Parker’s mission with this secret retail museum is to spread the awareness of vintage leather throughout Asia, in particular to mainland China. He says that as buyers become more affluent and travel abroad more, the new middle class of China is developing a sense of fashion history. Parker and Bang Bang 70′s are there to encourage it.

Vintage leather accessories aren’t the only well-preserved jewels that he has crammed into a small space in this overcrowded city. Parker’s other passion is classic cars. He has ten of them. Mercedes, Ferrari, and BMW, all hidden away in a garage, somewhere in Hong Kong. But that’s another story.

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]]> http://thedepartmentofstyle.com/2013/03/21/bang-bang-70s/feed/ 0 http://thedepartmentofstyle.com/2013/03/21/not-for-the-faint-of-heart/ http://thedepartmentofstyle.com/2013/03/21/not-for-the-faint-of-heart/#comments Thu, 21 Mar 2013 16:53:26 +0000 David http://thedepartmentofstyle.com/?p=598

Alan Goouch is one of those rare people in the fashion business. He’s been at it almost half a century. Through good times and bad, fads have come and gone, as have hemlines and hair. And yet he remains witty, cheery, and boundlessly optimistic.

Goouch came to Toronto from London in the mid-1960s and began work as a photographer. Increasingly he found himself taking fashion photographs. That business, he thought, looked like fun. Entirely self taught, he not only began opening shops but also making his own clothes. Toronto in those days was a crash pad for many of the American and British rock bands on tour. Conservative America couldn’t satisfy their needs for colourful skintight velvet jeans, but Alan Goouch could. He jokingly referred to himself in those days not as a designer so much as a “Knockoff Artist.”

He has managed through the years to keep up with times and yet remains true to his own whimsical view of the world. The only concession he’s made to the passing years is to have consolidated his business under one roof. It is a compact shop in the city’s exclusive Yorkville district.

He doesn’t read the fashion magazines but he does travel the world to find that unique mix of clothing and colour that appeals to his customers. Men who, he says, cannot be faint of heart. Know who you are and express it in how you dress.

Goouch is in his shop most days (you can find it at www.thebrickshirthouse.ca) He remembers customers’ names and what they bought. He’s always keen to talk about art or music, but most often fashion. In his spare time he paints and mentors young fashion designers at a local college. In a business often obsessed with youth, Alan Goouch brings a sense of history and tradition, while at the same time remaining fresh. As he himself might say in his warm Cockney accent: “He’s a pip!”

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]]> http://thedepartmentofstyle.com/2013/03/21/not-for-the-faint-of-heart/feed/ 0 http://thedepartmentofstyle.com/2013/03/12/test-post-for-velodrome/ http://thedepartmentofstyle.com/2013/03/12/test-post-for-velodrome/#comments Tue, 12 Mar 2013 17:00:30 +0000 David http://thedepartmentofstyle.com/?p=105

There is an incredible purity to track cycling. It’s not unlike great design. When you pare everything down, forget the bells, whistles, frills and anything that isn’t absolutely necessary, you are left with a track bike and a perfectly smooth, unobstructed course on which to ride it.

This is what a velodrome represents. Cycling, stripped down to the bare essentials. And it is beautiful. The bikes are works of art, fit to be stared at for lengthy periods, even while at rest.

The Forest City Velodrome in London, Canada, is a rare beast. There aren’t many indoor velodromes in the world, and this is one of the more unusual of them all. In 2005, a few track cycling enthusiasts found an old unused hockey arena that had been set for demolition, and figured it was just barely big enough to cram a velodrome into.

It measures just 138 metres around, with corners that are banked at a staggering 50 degrees. By way of comparison, the legendary velodrome in Ghent, Belgium (which has been known to make riders nauseous from the high g-forces) is 166 metres. The minimum size for an Olympic velodrome is 250 metres. But the folks at FCV don’t see the short track and harrowing turns as a drawback. Quite the opposite. “It makes the racing more exciting,” one rider told us. “You’ve just barely hit the straightaway before the track slingshots you around a corner again.”

We’ve also posted a slideshow of images we took while at the velodrome.

One of the things that makes FCV so great is that it’s run entirely by volunteers. No one is getting rich off it, and everyone who shows up does so because they love it. Not only is it one hell of a lot of fun to tear around the velodrome at high speed (we tried it, and loved it) but this facility and the volunteers are giving a group of teenage athletes a place to train in the hopes it puts them on a course to the Olympics.

Once again, thanks to our friends at Obsolete Components for providing the music for this film.

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