by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. Something large is crashing through the brush in front of me just out of sight. I wait half-expecting it to emerge but, keeping the mystery, snapping, thudding, it n...
by Reginald-Jerome de Mans. For a surprisingly large set of men, particularly Frenchmen, who care about beautiful shoes, an artificial patina is, with apologies to Mr. Bungle, the sweetest taboo.
by Reginald Jerome de Mans. One of the joys of custom clothing, they used to say, is that is supposed to last forever. Any English teacher would immediately ask, who are “they”? The reassuring v...
by Reginald Jerome de Mans. It never ceases to amuse me. The portion of what we call classic men’s clothing that cannot claim a military origin (as do trenchcoats, khakis, raglan sleeves, cardig...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. January 2006. I push the door of Henry Poole in Savile Row for the first time, a length of unusual alpaca Shetland tweed under my arm. A nice-looking young tailor cou...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. Have you, dear reader, heard about Instagram Face? Not an app, but the phenomenon of increasing numbers of people visiting doctors, cosmetic clinics and outright quac...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. An essay topic, exploded like a soap bubble, both flimsy and eye-stinging: memories of a short story (by whom? sounds French) about a woman (a duchess? a marquise?) who...
by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans. We can find inspiration in everything, as Paul Smith wrote. During these times of sheltering in place, we may have to. The mind has limits, though. A colleague recommen...