Nothing to lose but your ties

PETER BUFFA

It’s a tie. Actually, it’s not. These days, I’d say, it’s “Ties: 3,

Men: 44.”

But don’t tell the people at Hermes that. Hermes Paris, as if you

didn’t know, is one of the grandes dames (notice the French spelling)

of luxury retail and haute couture, which is French for “you can’t

afford it.”

There is a Hermes store in South Coast Plaza, as if it could be

anywhere else, and the profoundly fashionable people there have

erected a monument to something which is seldom, if ever, viewed as

monumental -- the necktie.

But these are not just any ties. They are Hermes silk ties, which

are one of the building blocks of the 166-year old company, along

with silk scarves and leather goods. Thierry Hermes started it all in

Paris in 1837, specializing in saddles and fine leather goods, which,

if you’ve ever wondered, is why horsy stuff is a common theme in

Hermes designs.

The “Tie Temple” at South Coast Plaza is a living, breathing

testament to the long silk ribbons that males have pulled tight

around their necks nearly as long as there have been necks, which is

long.

The very clever exhibit is the creation of Italian artist

Alessandro Mendini, who fashioned his aesthetic nod to neckwear from

more than 500 Hermes ties. It’s hard to explain. It’s one of those

things you have to see for yourself. But I can tell you that you will

never look at ties the same way again.

So what is the deal with ties, and yes, I know it’s a guy thing,

but we can’t address everybody’s needs every Sunday morning, now can

we? Are ties in or out, here or gone, passe, declasse or je ne sais

quoi?

It depends. Some of the old rules still apply. Corporate

environment, tie; small business, no tie.

But the exceptions are becoming the rule. Do you know a lot of

companies bigger than Microsoft? How many people do you think wear

ties at Microsoft? Probably just the security guard.

West of the Mississippi, ties are definitely in remission. What

started as “casual Fridays” out here became “California casual”; and

now, we don’t even have a name for it. Back east, the ties have it

during the workday, but you do see more and more men out for dinner

un-tied, which would have been a show-stopper not long ago.

Where did the modern necktie come from, by the way? I’m glad you

asked. Did it come from Paris or London or Venice? It did not. It

came from Croatia of all places.

During Europe’s Thirty Year War, which lasted from 1618 to 1648 --

which is why they called it the Thirty Year War -- an army of

Croatian soldiers soldiered their way into Paris. The Croats’

uniforms included colorful scarves that were knotted at the neck and

ran down the front of the shirt.

The French took one look at the Croats, said “Sacre bleu!” and

dubbed the new fashion “a la Croate,” which was soon shortened to

“cravate.” When Louis XIV started sporting the new cravate, the die

was cast, the seed was sown, and the tie was tied. From that moment

on, men who dressed to impress had to tie one on.

Until after World War II, men would sooner be seen in public with

no pants than with no tie. Seriously. Find a magazine or some family

pictures from the 1940s or earlier. Working, playing, eating, napping

-- it didn’t matter. Men wore ties. Period. If you were changing a

tire, you’d tuck the tie inside your shirt or toss it over your

shoulder, but never take it off. Ever.

For men my age, and there are very few of us left, learning to

make a tie knot was a rite of passage. Every male person learns to

tie one of four knots: the four-in-hand, the Pratt, the full-Windsor

and the half-Windsor.

Which one? Whichever one your father used, of course. Most men use

a half Windsor, by the way. It also depends on the fabric. Ever try

to tie a knit tie into a full-Windsor? You’ll end up with a knot the

size of a grapefruit.

To me, the finishing touch on the perfect knot is the dimple. If I

can get a deep dimple perfectly centered, I am well pleased.

How wide and how long ties are is another social phenomenon.

In the 1930s and ‘40s, ties were stunningly wide -- 6 inches, 8

inches, even wider. You barely needed a shirt if you kept your jacket

on. Unfortunately, they were as short as they were wide, and barely

made it past the second button, which made everyone look like Sidney

Greenstreet.

By the time I started tying things around my neck, circa 1960, it

was the other extreme. Your tie and your belt were about the same

width. I had a tie that was 1 1/4 inches wide. I only know that

because I measured it to win a bet.

These days, I must admit, I am usually un-tied. There was a time

when I was one of those who refused to let their neck be seen in

public, but I’m over that. I still have them, I like them, and I wear

them, just not as much. For me to fold it and pull it and cinch it up

today, it has to be a special occasion, for a special person, who is,

on occasion, deceased.

So Thierry Hermes, on behalf of tie wearers everywhere, we salute

you and your ties. Just not every day.

I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs

Sundays. He may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].