Matzo Ball Billiards

Inside me there are two wolves.

One is the pretentious embodiment of a yesteryear British aristocrat who values, nay, worships the rules and fundamentals of tailored garments. A guy who appreciates the formality and elegance of classic suiting, in traditional cuts and cloths and yearns to be truly “trad” minus the perverse politics that come with the territory.

Then there’s the “wild side” of lil’ ol’ Sully. The version of me that likes to be a bit louder. More experimental. A bit of a peacock…wolf. A peawolf. Or perhaps a wolfcock (don’t quote me on that one)! Regardless of I choose to call it, I can sometimes be inclined towards flashier tastes – at least, those rooted in some semblance of fashion history. The beast – uncaged!

Enter, the fun flare of 70s suiting – and the grip it continues to hold over me.

Like a lot of other vintage suit collectors, I used to be more inclined to seek out and buy stuff that stood out to me a bit loudly. In many instances, I still do. But about a year ago or so, I was scrolling through eBay, as I’d more recently begun to do while vintage-hunting, and spotted a rather ostentatious pink, polyester piece that just called out to me.

Even then, I was wary of polyester, but to this day, I make occasional exceptions for authentic vintage pieces that utilize the fabric. In the 70s, it was all the rage. A wonder material!

This thing was pretty wild, even for me. Even wilder that I wore it for the Sabbath. But I thought it was a lot of fun! For one, it was double-breasted, which has since become a staple of mine. It had solid, peak lapels, a generous skirt on the jacket, and best of all, flared legs! Not to mention the rather outlandish hue, and a very subtle herringbone striped pattern.

As you can see, I had a bit of a field day trying to build a full outfit. I paired the suit with a thrifted blue-and-white striped, contrast collar shirt, a vintage Christian Dior tie, and saddle shoes I’d been given by my godfather. Looking back, the pants could absolutely use a hem, and the shirt was admittedly a bit more 80s than the rest of the ensemble. All-in-all, it was a fairly silly look. But a fun one! And it started me down a new niche rabbit hole of vintage fashion.

Not long after, I snagged another bizarre 70s relic off eBay. Equally gauche and plastic-y, this suit caught my eye because it had this absolutely insane pleating detail on the jacket.

Interestingly enough, this suit was by the same obscure brand that manufactured (union made, btw) the first one. But look at those giant lapels! Those insane pleats on the front! And of course, the flare, accentuated by a slim thigh. Not gonna lie, there’s some extra pulling on my thigh in this one – indicating that I should probably have had it let out a drop.

Again – a very loud look. And absolutely the product of someone just getting into vintage suits, always looking for the loudest and most unconventional options. Eventually, we all mature, and learn to appreciate the details that go into quality classic pieces as well.

But to be honest, much as I now lean towards the yuppified flamboyance of the 1980s suiting, the relaxed nature of the 90s, and other periods, I still have a soft spot for that 70s look. Only, now I care more about the foundations of the style, in comparison to the loudest elements, such as color or pattern.

Let me elaborate.

Some of the signature features of 70s suiting are still loud in nature. Larger, sometimes massive lapels. Flared legs. Powerful shoulders. Long(er) jackets, especially on DBs. An ultra-sharp crease down the pant leg.

Often, these features were combined with flashy colors or patterns, and often in less conventional materials, like double-knit polyester or denim. Sometimes, the cuts were altered so dramatically from classic suits, that we had to come up with a new name for these outfits entirely. Hence, the leisure suit.

Notice the squared-off jacket hems, higher buttoning point, lapel roll, and the abundance of patch pockets. All of this, combined with materials like polyester, made these suits a lot more casual.

But traditional fabric suits of the era still utilized many of these exaggerated features. And I think those suits hold up the very best, in my humble opinion.

The suit above is very 70s. I’m obsessed with that wide flare. But it’s in a traditional tweed. Despite the fun details, it’s still rather elegant, in my opinion.

One of my favorite suits is a brown corduroy three-piece by now-defunct New England manufacturer Anderson Little. I also got this one on eBay, and it’s a favorite for several reasons.

For one – cord is one of my all-time fabrics. Right behind tweed, which is my #1. It’s also a three piece – and I don’t have a ton of those.

Anderson Little was active for much of the 20th century, so it’s not so easy to date the suit. But I put somewhere between 1965 and 1975, roughly. Namely – due to the flared leg.

I don’t mean to reduce “70s styling” to just flares. Noticeably, the jacket here doesn’t have crazy wide lapels or anything. But the suit overall exudes a mix of both groovy and academic auras. Which are a strange pairing – yet somehow this suit leans into both!

My latest and most recent venture into 70s suiting comes rather recently. A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of visiting England. During my stay in London, I visited a number of vintage shops in and around Soho. And I must say – they have some incredible selections over there.

I was very lucky to score this brown DB suit from… you guessed it – the 1970s.

Unlike some of my other 70s suits, however, this one is surprisingly grounded. It’s in a fairly tame shade of chocolate brown. It’s double-breasted, in a classic 6×2 button enclosure. But the thing that stands out the most about it? It fits me like a glove.

See, something I’ve overlooked in the past about the very best in 70s tailoring, is that incredibly sharp, well-fitted shoulder. When done well, in any era really, it looks fantastic.

This is actually mostly due to the high armhole placement. In tailoring, the higher the armhole matches the position of your actual armpit, the better the overall fit and movement of the garment. And this one is spectacular. Also, get a load of those big old lapels! Yum.

There’s also the wonderful, flared leg of course. Interestingly, the pants are double-pleated, whereas 70s bottoms were often flat-front. But that shoulder-line is what really does it for me.

In many ways, this is one of the more innocuous suits in my collection, especially in my 70s array. But it fits me so damn well – almost as if it was bespoke. I had the upper thigh let out a tiny drop since the first two photos were taken, but still kept slim, to accentuate the bell-bottom. Besides that? No other alterations.

This blog entry was almost definitely an excuse to show off some of the pieces in my suit collection. But I do mean what I say – that 70s styling has a special place for me. I hope that I can continue to explore this niche, because damn, is it a ton of fun.