As the West became civilized and noticeably less wild, it developed a complex culture of style, music, and art. The canon of Western style is clearly established: denim, pearl snaps, silver, turquoise, and big felt hats. But it’s not easy to wear these items without looking like a pretender.

Personally, I love Western style. I have a small collection of western wear, and I’d like to think I integrate it well into a general Americana wardrobe without looking silly. Some people claim you need to own cattle or play the guitar on stage to justify dressing in a western style, but that’s false. If ranchers, rodeo stars, and country music artists were the only people allowed to dress western, there would be no industry, and the brands would go bankrupt.

So if you want to try out a little bit of Western style, this article is here to help. We’ll outline the foundational elements of Western style and show you how to integrate them into your wardrobe, even if you’re a city dweller. From shirts to suits to boots and bolos, it’s all in here. Let’s dive in…

Part One - The Basics

Western Shirts

Most western shirts were designed for ranch wear. They are made in tough cotton fabrics like chambray or denim. Some shirts come in plaids, be it actual wool flannel like the Pendleton Board shirt, or a regular “Cotton Flannel.” All of these styles are a part of the shared canon of American workwear materials. They’re hard-wearing, affordable, and most importantly, they look good beat up.

The most Unique and iconic Western detail in shirting is the pointed yoke. The yoke is a shaped piece of fabric located at the back of the shirt, just below the collar, that fits over the shoulders. It provides support and helps the garment hang correctly, contributing to the overall fit and structure. On Western shirts, it is often a second layer and can occasionally be in a contrasting fabric.

If you want a low-stakes way to explore Western style, opting for a Western yoke shirt instead of a traditional one is a great option. The easiest way to do this is with a casual denim work shirt or a flannel shirt. Casual options lend themselves more easily to experimentation and can be comfortably mixed with tweed trousers, chinos, and derby boots.

If you’d like to try out a western yoke but prefer a more elevated formal style, western suits are a great option. The best overlap in quality and aesthetics in a Western suit I’ve found is from Thomas Farthing. The UK-based maker released an entire collection of Western suits, and this brown tweed option is a handsome choice. Western suits can be paired with cowboy boots, but would look just as good with brogued derbies.

There is one other aspect of Western shirting that is a bit more unique: pearl snaps. Snaps as an alternative to buttons are a major convenience. They make dressing a quicker affair, and they easily come undone if a cowboy finds himself caught in a snag or on barbed wire. Today, they’re the most striking detail on Western shirts.

If you feel a bit timid looking into a western shirt, look for an option with a western yoke but normal buttons. If you want something a bit more exciting, a white pearl snap, or even a turquoise snap can be a good next step.

Cowboy Boots

The most obvious item of Cowboy clothing is the eponymous cowboy boot. A tall shaft, a high tapered heel, and a pointed toe maintain comfort and safety when riding a horse. Aesthetically, those details result in boots with a sleek, aggressive look.

Cowboy boots with these details, especially a high heel of 1.5-2 inches, can work with all levels of formality depending on their leather. While most exciting options for casual wear come from lightly colored exotics like alligator or ostrich, the most formal dress boots are made of pristine soft calf or goat leather.

If the big heel typical of proper cowboy boots is a bit too far out there for you, a roper might be a better option. Ropers have a lower shaft, a more blunt round toe, and a shorter walking heel. They tend to be less distinct. If you want a western look without too much pomp and circumstance, a roper is the way to go.

There is a lot of buzz these days about square-toe cowboy boots. They usually have a wide square shape, a lower walking heel similar to a roper, and a roomier shaft. They were initially designed as a more comfortable option for Cowboys who were spending less time in the saddle. This extra comfort has made them the most popular boot style in the last few years, but personally, I would steer clear of them. The most striking look comes from wearing boots with a slimmer toe and a higher heel. If you need comfort, the lower roper heel is the proper compromise. But if you’re choosing to wear boots for the look, this is worth prioritizing.

Before we conclude this section on boots, there is an important detail you might not have considered. The tall, wide shaft of a pair of cowboy boots is going to interact differently with your pants than you might otherwise be used to. While most shoes wrap closely around your ankle bone (even equestrian boots from other cultures, like the Chelsea or Jodhpur), cowboy boots sit away from the ankle.

This means they require a sufficiently sized knee, calf, and leg opening measurement from whatever pants will be paired with them. If your pants aren’t generous enough, they’ll either sit on top of the boots or cling to the shaft. Both are immediate signs of a poser. Make sure you wear pants that fit over your boots with ease.

To clarify, this doesn’t mean that pants have to be wide or baggy to be worn with cowboy boots. In fact, excessively wide pants can look quite bad due to the contrast with slim toes. The Wrangler 13MWZ, the most popular western jean in the world, is a slim-straight fit with a moderate taper below the knee. I prefer to wear wider straight-fit jeans with my western boots, as I prefer a classic mid-century look.

All things considered, though, Western shirts and cowboy boots are easy enough topics to understand. As long as your shirt is tucked into your pants, and your pants aren’t tucked into your boots, it’s hard to go wrong.

But the real secret to embodying an authentic Western style without looking like you’re LARPing comes down to one key skill: formality mixing. Knowing how to pair a dinner jacket with jeans, or boots with a button down—not to mention a cowboy hat!—isn’t something that comes naturally to most.

But fortunately, there are a few rules to follow to make sure you don’t lose your way…

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At Letters from the Old World, we highlight the things that make life beautiful and worth living. Part of that mission involves digging through archives, literal and metaphorical, for hidden gems.

Today, we’re looking at one such gem, a book Charles Dickens wrote for his children and didn’t want published during his lifetime. Luckily for us, though, his descendants would eventually allow the world to read it: it’s called The Life of Our Lord, and is Dickens’s personal retelling of the Gospel narrative.

More than a mere curio, this book has a lot to say about Dickens the man, fatherhood, and handing on your faith to your children. Today, we look at why this short classic is still worth your and your children’s time, and what it can teach you about passing down your values with love.

The post is the first entry in our new segment Old World Reads. In these articles, we’ll look at the hidden and forgotten gems of European literature.

Our hope is that by stepping into the world of these books, you’ll be able to immerse yourself in the artistic currents that shaped Europe’s great cultural tradition, and draw on that inspiration in your own life.

Let us know what you think, and if you’d like to see more posts like this in the future.

A Book that Almost Wasn’t

Dickens wrote The Life of our Lord between 1846 and 1849, the same time period he was working on David Copperfield. It is a small, twelve-chapter retelling of the narrative elements of the New Testament focusing on the life of Christ. Unlike most of his other works, it’s short enough to be read in one sitting, which was likely the intention, as Dickens read the story to his children every Christmas.

He intended the book to remain a private family story, and directed that it not be published until after he and all of his children had died. The manuscript was passed down through the family for decades and was finally published in 1934, following the death of his last surviving child, Sir Henry Fielding Dickens.

Since then, this addendum to the body of Dickens work has waned in popularity, especially in comparison to his more well-known writings like A Christmas Carol. But it’s precisely because it is such an odd duck when counted among his other works that it should interest you.

A Father’s Story Time

All my strongest illustrations are derived from the New Testament: all my social abuses are shown as departures from its spirit.

–Charles Dickens, in an 1861 letter to Reverend David Macrae

There is nothing in The Life that will surprise anyone with knowledge of the New Testament; Dicken’s retelling is a mixture of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, with a smattering of Acts. What makes this work stand out is its personal qualities, including its intimacy, its comedy, and what it reveals about its author’s convictions.

The intimate nature of this writing is evident from its provenance. This was Dickens writing not for money, but for his six children. For such an esteemed author, this small audience was a change of pace, as he addresses them multiple times in both moral exhortations and pleasant asides. His tone, one that is not one-sided and parasocial but rather genuinely parental, lends the writing a warmth that only a father’s story time with his children could have. Take for example Dicken’s explanation of animals found in the Bible that his English children would not have been familiar with:

You never saw a locust, because they belong to that country near Jerusalem, which is a great way off. So, do camels, but I think you have seen a camel. At all events, they are brought over here, sometimes ; and if you would like to see one, I will show you one.

You can’t help but feel charmed at the paternal nature of this aside, pre-empting both his children’s curiosity and their requests, a sign of how intimately he knew their temperaments. There are other small sections like this, such as explaining what certain outmoded words mean, or comparing foreign lands to ones with which his family would be familiar, that make this piece of writing one that is truly meant for a particular family. While the intimacy of this makes it easy to understand why Dickens wouldn’t want it published, it is precisely this deep familiarity, one earnestly meant to make morals and not money, that makes this story so fascinating.

An Author’s Approach to Paternal Advice

As a wise father and editor, Dickens knew what would be worth communicating to his children and what would not. He writes in plain English (for the 19^th century) which is still distinctively Dickens, both in tenor and focus. He pays particular attention to the poor and downtrodden, which, if you’ve read any of his other works, is a recurring concern for him, often pausing his retelling to make the moral instruction clear to young ears.

In chapter 8, he explains who the twelve disciples were and where they came from, making a point to say that they were chosen from among the poor by God as a sign of His love of them. He uses this as a chance to instruct his children on how to conduct themselves around the downtrodden:

Never be proud or unkind, my dears, to any poor man, woman, or child. If they are bad, think that they would have been better, if they had had kind friends, and good homes, and had been better taught. So, always try to make them better by kind persuading words; and always try to teach them and relieve them if you can. And when people speak ill of the Poor and Miserable, think how Jesus Christ went among them and taught them, and thought them worthy of his care.

The warmth and paternal storytelling refuses to gloss over darker parts of the narrative, like the death of John the Baptist or the killing of children that causes the flight to Egypt. Indeed, Dickens knew that these are the necessary cruelties that make the resurrection story all the more glorious, and he does not shield his young listeners here anymore than he does in Oliver Twist or Great Expectations. This, after all, is the father’s role; make your children aware of great evil and the great and the good.

In this way, Dickens precedes the famous line from C.S. Lewis that:

Since it is so likely that (children) will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.

A Recommendation from the Man Himself

Why rewrite the gospels? Surely the greatest story ever told had been retold enough in the 1800 years prior to Dickens tackling the task. In an 1868 letter to his youngest son, the Victorian novelist explains why he wrote this simplified account for him and his siblings, because: “it is the best book that ever was or will be known in the world, and because it teaches you the best lessons by which any human creature who tries to be truthful and faithful to duty can possibly be guided.” For Dickens, there was no greater story to communicate, and he used his talents to ensure his children would encounter it in a way they could understand, even at an early age.

Throughout his work, Dickens’ love of God and his fellow man shines through. It is this love, the love of the divine Creator, that he was most concerned with inspiring in his children. Even in his last will and testament, Dickens ends by exhorting his family after his death to hold fast to their Christian faith. He knew this was the key to a good life.

He took the time to tell the Gospel in his own way, to ensure that they would receive their moral instruction as only a father can transmit. It’s a lesson every parent should take to heart. You are in a privileged position to share the Gospel, and you should take the time to tell it right.

Remember! — It is Christianity TO DO GOOD always — even to those who do evil to us. It is Christianity to love our neighbours as ourself, and to do to all men as we would have them do to us. It is Christianity to be gentle, merciful, and forgiving, and to keep those qualities quiet in our own hearts, and never make a boast of them, or of our prayers or of our love of God, but always to shew that we love Him by humbly trying to do right in everything.

–Charles Dickens, The Life of Our Lord

Learning to dress well can be a challenge in our casual world. Many men have become so thoroughly divorced from the rules of classic style that they are left without a compass. They don’t feel comfortable in a full suit, so they give up and stick to a t-shirt and sweatpants.

But it doesn’t have to be black and white like this. There are all kinds of ways to learn about classic style, and in fact, there is one specific style influence that almost all men connect to: sports.

Whether it’s baseball, sailing, hunting, or golf, sporting pursuits have influenced classic menswear for well over a century. The wardrobe staples they have produced serve as a natural onramp for men with limited exposure to classic menswear.

In this article, we’ll look at how historic pieces of sportswear can serve as “style anchors”, pieces that establish a natural foundation point and make transitioning into classic style easier.

Because sportswear has built-in utility, it’s easy to understand when and how to wear it. Today, we explore three different classic sports, the garments they created, and how you can use them as a reliable fallback option for dressing well in almost any environment.

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

Lessons from the Court

One of the most obvious examples of this easy understanding and the function of a style anchor is the polo shirt. Upon its invention in the 1920s, the lightweight piqué cotton and an unstructured collar made the polo shirt a much more comfortable and practical alternative to the dress-style shirts that were the norm at the time.

When the polo was created, it was a bridge between the stricter formal style of the time and the growing demands of competitive sports. Today, however, the polo shirt is so valuable and versatile because it can work in the exact opposite direction.

The polo is the perfect anchor for helping men dress classically in informal or uncomfortable situations. A shirt with a collar almost always looks better than one without, and the polo is the easy solution to casual or high-demand activities.

Polos already dominate the golf course and the tennis court. But the real utility is in treating it like the style anchor it is. Allow the polo to be the least formal item in your wardrobe, and in return, dressing in a classic style suddenly becomes that much easier.

But while the polo is the most obvious option to start with, the real value lies in examining cultures where sport isn’t just a game, but a way of life. The styles emerging from these next two sporting cultures offer profound lessons precisely because they demand so much from each garment.

When you need your clothes to function well in a variety of environments and occasions, they must either rise to high standards, or be abandoned. The next three pieces we look at stood up to those demands, and became icons in the process. As such, they are the perfect sportswear anchors for a timeless classic wardrobe.

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It’s easy to assume that how you feel in a given space is mostly about you. Besides, if a certain area makes you feel uncomfortable, uneasy or unwelcome, you can (usually) just leave, right? But there’s actually evidence that you’re being alienated from your environment on purpose and the consequences are more dire than you think.

As made evident by the latest big indie film Backrooms and the online story which spawned it, humans know there’s something eerie about spaces made to be used and not loved that elicits dread. It’s an acknowledgement that just because a space is man-made, doesn’t mean it’s made for man. Today’s spaces and structures are increasingly incorporating anti-human designs and systems, sapping your ability to make your own space and attacking the spiritual vitality of your surroundings.

Fortunately, there are thinkers and philosophers who are sounding the alarm, and their advice can help you meaningfully navigate the minefield of modern architecture without losing your humanity.

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

Hostility in the Home (and Everywhere Else)

For all the ugliest and most deadening places in the world are made from patterns as well.

–Christopher Alexander, The Timeless Way

Architecture is an art form you witness whether you want to or not. Every space, every design choice and every building communicates something. According to philosopher Roger Scruton, this carries with it moral weight and obligation. In his work The Aesthetics of Architecture, he writes that buildings either attract or repel us, even as they serve their useful function. Part of this distinction is made evident in the distinction between a house and a home, for example. But where a home might embody “welcoming,” and a house may be used as a neutral descriptor, the lack of terminology for a “hostile” house exemplifies how this space in the attraction/repulsion spectrum is underexamined. And yet, once you’re made aware of it, you’ll notice it everywhere.

The concept of disciplinary or hostile architecture should raise eyebrows for anyone who cares about community spaces. These are structures put in place in order to discourage people from using them, like the UK’s Camden bench, a design that sacrifices style and comfort (which were once the priorities in a bench) for something that resists stickering, graffiti, or even laying down.

Another example are the metal ticks, sometimes called “pig’s ears”, that added to smooth surfaces and low walls to prevent skateboarding or rollerblading, or layouts of “decorative spikes” placed close together to prevent people from walking or sitting there. Most of these elements are meant to “deal” with homelessness or delinquent youth, but the end result is filling community space with designs that are explicitly anti-human.

Another aspect of the anti-human in design is, as we’ve covered before, the allergy to ornamentation and decorative touches seen in barren buildings, like those promoted by corporate glass tower standards or brutalism. These emphasize the functional over the spiritual, resulting in plain surfaces that feel alien to humans. Such places are built to be enormous and imposing, the opposite of “human scale”, in order to prioritize other things, like cars in the case of many mid-sized American cities, or efficiency in the case of quick-build skyscrapers built during boom years. Modernists also favored large, imposing structures that allowed them to make use of innovations in engineering and technology to create new forms, rejecting classic, historic styles for novelty. This cohort became so distant from the man on the street that they left their fellow humans feeling alienated and ant-like next to their structures.

As on the nose as it may feel, this picture of ivory-towered experts ignoring the wants and needs of those on the ground is more appropriate than you may think…

A Loss of Language and Intuition

In those buildings that serve purely practical purposes, in which the practical activities have been robbed of their poetry—buildings that are mechanized and depersonalized—technical perfection and pure functionality have nothing to do with artistic beauty.

–Dietrich Von Hildebrand, Aesthetics Vol. II

In designer/architect Christopher Alexander’s book The Timeless Way of Building, he writes of the “quality without a name”, which he says is the “root criterion of life and spirit in a man, a town, a building, or a wilderness.” He attempts to define it by listing concepts that approach but don’t fully encapsulate what this unnamed quality means, like “alive,” “comfortable,” “free,” “egoless” and “eternal.”

To say a place is “alive” for example is difficult to describe, but easy to recognize. It’s the difference between a thriving European side street’s cozy cafes and intimate evening lighting and the sterility of a grey downtown office block’s monotony and unbroken angularity. In short, you know it when you see it.

For Alexander, much of this quality comes from what he calls a pattern language, which for brevity’s sake can be described as a series of patterns, which can include familiar motifs, languages, cultural and practical innovations, recurring in given contexts.

Alexander says that in the early phases of industrial society, pattern languages die as they stop being common, communal knowledge and instead become specialized and the sole domain of “expertise.” Now engineers, planners, architects and consultants are the only ones able to “speak” these specialized languages. According to Alexander, this problem is exacerbated because experts not only guard their language jealously to make themselves indispensable, but they also gatekeep knowledge from rivals and competitors, further removing the pattern language from organic, communal evolution.

Now, most people don’t think themselves capable of designing their environment, as this once practical skill is seen as specialized. Communicating along these lines is no longer an everyday experience as people lose touch with their intuitions. When architects decide that glass picture windows are good, it’s taken as gospel by the average person, even if something within them says they’d prefer being in a room with smaller windows.

This new expert class has developed its own pattern language, one of plate glass and steel, meant to be divorced from particular times and places (while ironically being very much a product of contemporary mores). As Alexander writes:

So long as I build for myself, the patterns I use will be simple, and human, and full of feeling, because I understand my situation, but as soon as few people begin to build for ‘the many,’ their patterns about what is needed become abstract; no matter how well meaning they are, their ideas gradually get out of touch with reality, because they are not faced daily with the living examples of what the patterns say.

Sad as this loss of pattern language and intuition may be, there’s something more important at risk when we make buildings anti-human, something with much larger implications…

Divine Designs

That beauty leads towards the divine is a given within Christian thought. Thus all art, including architecture, has the potential to direct and reflect the divine as a function of its beauty. While this is most evident in explicitly religious structures like churches, every instance of artistic expression carries this potential. The Catechism of the Catholic Church puts this elegantly in section 2501:

Arising from talent given by the Creator and from man’s own effort, art is a form of practical wisdom, uniting knowledge and skill, to give form to the truth of reality in a language accessible to sight or hearing. To the extent that it is inspired by truth and love of beings, art bears a certain likeness to God’s activity in what he has created.

This is why giving over the most prominent works of art in your community to experts trapped in trends and pattern languages is a spiritual risk. Those that don’t account for their works’ potential to touch souls create spaces that may be functional, useful or even interesting, but they overlook something vital.

For Dietrich Von Hildebrand, while a home must necessarily be practical, its real goal should be to host a human being’s real, intellectual and affective life. As he writes in the second volume of his Aesthetics, this is only possible through artistic beauty that both elevates and nourishes your spirit. When this quality is absent, he writes, the consequences are not merely a rejection, but a negation of the soul:

[A] modern building that fulfills all the practical requirements and is perfect with respect to civilization is usually a wretched construction from the artistic point of view. It almost always radiates an anonymous barrenness, a depressing prosaic character.

[…] its absolute barrenness, anonymity, and soul-lessness, and the lack of any charm whatever, form an antithesis to artistic beauty that is just as great as the trivial.

Retaking the Language of Design

If all this seems dire, then take solace knowing that the path back to a more human environment is not as onerous as it might seem. The first step is to rescue the pattern language that’s been slowly drained from you. You can do this by being curious and taking the time to notice your surroundings. You literally have a machine that can tell you the name and uses of everything around you in your pocket 90% of the time. For once, use it to make you more aware of your surroundings, not less. Once you grow familiar with the patterns around you, you can start to question whether they do, or don’t, have that quality without a name that Alexander wants you to notice.

If they do possess it, challenge yourself to figure out why that is. Is it the scale, the lighting, the colors, the materials? Make your intuition for design a conscious process until it becomes second nature. When that “aliveness” is lacking, when the spaces around you are actively unwelcoming, figure out why, and make those responsible for their design and approval justify the decision. This could mean writing your local representatives, or better yet, showing up to council meetings. You may be surprised how effective a few voices can be at the local level; the “experts” aren’t used to being challenged.

Should you find yourself in a position to make real changes, large or small, Von Hildebrand suggests a middle path between the functional and aesthetic when it comes to common work spaces. His advice is applicable beyond the workplace, though, striking at the heart of the issue and offering perhaps the most direct, and beautiful, answer to the anti-human in architecture:

A modest, simple, but noble architecture is appropriate here, an architecture that in its expression and its atmosphere does justice to the fact that human beings work in these buildings: human beings who are destined objectively for a rich interpersonal and nonmechanized world full of the poetry of human life.

During my recent trip to France, I had the opportunity to visit on of the most famous locales on the Atlantic coast. Known as “the Queen of beaches, and the beach of Kings”, this small city was once a humble whaling village before transforming into a glamorous seaside retreat for European royalty in the 19th century.

Writing about the city following his visit in 1843, author Victor Hugo records:

I have not met in the world any place more pleasant and perfect than Biarritz. I have never seen the old Neptune throwing joy and glory with such a force … Gascony’s sea grinds, scratches, and stretches on the reefs its never-ending whisper. Friendly population and white cheerful houses, large dunes, fine sand, great caves and proud sea … Biarritz is amazing.

Now, at this point you might be thinking: “that sounds lovely, but what does it have to do with menswear?”. I’m glad you asked.

My trip to Biarritz only came about because I was visiting my friend Vincent in Bayonne, and we spontaneously decided to head down to the coast for the afternoon. The original goal was to get some shots for this publication — but, as I hadn’t planned for a trip to the coast, I was sorely overdressed:

Fortunately, Vincent has an apartment in Bayonne, so he was able to change into something more appropriate. The result was a simple outfit, but one quite representative of continental summer style. Today, we’re going to break down not just what makes it European, but what makes it French — and, of course, how you can incorporate elements of this unique style your own wardrobe this summer.

There’s far more than meets the eye in this surprisingly straightforward outfit. As always, the magic is in the details, and three of them in particular stand above the rest as staples of European summer style.

Let’s explore what they are, working from the top down…

1) Upper Body

When it comes to summer clothing, few shirts are as iconic as a white linen button-down. It’s a summer staple and a timeless Mediterranean classic. What, then, is so special about the one Vincent is wearing? What makes it stand out from all the rest?

Quite a few things, actually.

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The Bible is so full of stories, motifs, symbols, and parables that it’s easy to gloss over minor details like how Jesus dressed. But while most people don’t give a thought to what biblical figures wore, there is in fact a great deal of meaning and instruction in Jesus’s garments.

What it reveals will deepen your appreciation of both the Bible and the power of clothing. That’s why today, we look at how Christ’s clothing fulfills multiple prophecies, encapsulates all of humanity in its variety, and reveals why the way you dress matters far more than you think…

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

What Would Jesus Wear?

According to the Gospels, we know that Jesus would have worn everyday garb similar to other Jews of the era. For example, Mark 1:7 tells us he wore sandals, and John 19:23 tells us he wore a tunic. We also know he wore a fringed garment, likely a tzitzit, because Matthew 9:20-21 mentions that a woman suffering from hemorrhage is healed by touching it. Lastly, we can also infer from historical context that Christ likely wore a tallit, a large rectangular cloth wrapped around the shoulders that fell to your ankles or waist and covered your tunic.

While that description might help you visualize what Jesus wore a little better, there’s far more to some of these articles than you might imagine, since these seemingly basic items carry a surprising amount of significance. In particular, Christ’s fringed garment, seamless tunic, and what he wore – and was stripped of – during the passion deserve particular attention.

A Healing Fringe

Take for instance the fringed garment as attested to in Matthew and Luke. The fringe here are the tassels that God commanded the Israelites to wear in Numbers 15:37-39:

The Lord said to Moses, “Speak to the Israelites and say to them: ‘Throughout the generations to come you are to make tassels on the corners of your garments, with a blue cord on each tassel. You will have these tassels to look at and so you will remember all the commands of the Lord, that you may obey them and not prostitute yourselves by chasing after the lusts of your own hearts and eyes.

In the passage above, the word for corner in Hebrew also translates to “wings,” which is significant, as it coincides with a tradition that these fringes held healing powers, drawn from a prophecy found in Malachi 4:2, predicting the messiah would come “with healing in his wings.” For observant Jews, hearing of Christ’s fringe miraculously healing the woman suffering from hemorrhage in Matthew 9:20-21, this would have read like a sign of the true messiah’s arrival.

This also explains the woman’s actions, as she would have been aware of this traditional understanding of Malachi 4:2, and so her reaching out for Christ’s fringe for healing was a true act of faith.

A Tunic as Sign and Prophecy

Another significant piece of clothing is Jesus’ seamless tunic. Woven in one piece, the tunic would have proven valuable to a first century Roman centurion, which is why in John 19:23, the soldiers cast lots for it rather than splitting it into pieces. This is significant, as it fulfills a prophecy from Psalm 22:18: “They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.”

In addition to prophetic fulfillment, the seamless tunic also hints at Christ’s role as spiritual leader. As Pope Benedict the XVI wrote in his two-volume Jesus of Nazareth, mentioning the seamlessness of Christ’s tunic in the Gospels signals a priestly function to its wearer, as Jewish high priests also wore seamless tunics (called chiton) under their robes:

[W]e may detect in [John] the evangelist’s passing reference an allusion to Jesus’ high-priestly dignity, which John had expounded theologically in the high-priestly prayer of chapter. Not only is this dying man Israel’s true king: he is also the high priest who accomplishes his high-priestly ministry precisely in this hour of his most extreme dishonor.

For church fathers, the oneness of the garment also symbolized the unity of Christ’s church. St. Cyprian of Carthage, a 3^rd century bishop, believed as much, writing in his treatise De Unitate that the undivided nature of the robe should be understood as meaning Christ’s church could not be divided, and those who attempted to would find themselves outside of it:

When someone would be clothed with Christ, he receives a perfect suit of clothing, and an undamaged tunic. But what comes into his possession is common property […] Christ was wearing the unity that proceeds ‘from the upper part’ (that means ‘proceeding from heaven and from the Father’), which could never at all be torn apart by him who receives and possesses it, but rather with it secures for himself something that has a firm integrity. He who rends and splits Christ’s Church cannot possess Christ’s robe […]

So truly because Christ’s people cannot be torn apart, his tunic, ‘woven without seam,’ and holding fast together, has not become divided amongst its owners. The description ‘unable to be split (united, linked together),’ reveals the concord that holds together the unity of our people who have put on Christ. By the sign and seal of the tunic Christ has declared the unity of his Church.

In addition, John tells us the robe was woven from top to bottom, using the word anōthen (ἄνωθεν), a word that is repeated in a few other significant places in the Gospels.

In an article for the St. Paul Center, Fr. Thomas J. Lane expands on the significance of this term by using other examples. He notes that in John 3:31, we read that Jesus came from “above”, and in 19:11 we learn Pilate would have no power over Jesus if it had not been given from “above.” Finally, in both Matthew and Mark, we learn that the curtain in the temple was torn “top from bottom.” From this repetition, Lane writes, we can deduce that “[t]his garment is not just any garment, but is drawing attention to some divine connection.”

From Robes to Rags

What Christ was made to wear during the passion is also revealing. Herod puts him in “gorgeous apparel” as a show of contempt in Luke 23:11. Then in Mark 15:17, he is adorned in purple robes and given a crown of thorns by Pilates’ men as an ironic inversion of royal adornment, a way to mock his kingship. This is followed by the stripping down of Christ by the soldiers ahead of the crucifixion, which was a form of shaming common during this practice.

So it is that in this one series of events, Christ runs the gamut of clothing from king to governor to beggar: a symbolic representation that Christ truly died for all, regardless of their status or position.

The Lessons of Christ’s Clothes

As interesting as these facts may be on their own, they also hold practical wisdom for the attentive reader.

For instance, Christ’s wearing of the fringed garment was both an act of respect of God’s law and the culture to which Jesus belonged — an observance that Christians can emulate by dressing in accordance with their own traditions. For instance, Colossians 3:12 says that, as God’s chosen people, you should “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience,” while 1 Peter 3:3-4 warns that:

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.

But another takeaway is that even the most mundane piece of clothing can carry immense significance, as with the seamless tunic. As we’ve previously written, the symbolic power of clothing is monumental, and it can influence both yourself and others with the signals it sends. Even if you prefer to think of your clothes as mere coverings for your body, you should always consider the message, conscious or not, that you are sending when you choose to wear a particular piece of clothing.

Finally, when Christ is mocked during his final moments, he is first dressed in wealth-coded purple with a false crown, and then completely stripped on his cross as an act of shame. This should remind you that, ultimately, no matter your station in life, clothes won’t save you from the world’s harshness, and all must endure their moments of fear and pain.

Ultimately, the fact that God’s incarnation suffused even his clothes with great meaning should be a wake-up call to those with ears to hear and eyes to see. Clothing was used in fulfillment of prophecy, as a focal point for miracles, and to symbolize the strength of the church. In other words, there is no corner of the earth so small or inconsequential that it can’t be a source of great meaning — if you make an effort to recognize it, you could make your wardrobe one too.

In recent installments of What’s In a Fit, we’ve looked at the best shirts, fabrics, and footwear for summer. But so far, we’ve left out one crucial ingredient: summer socks.

Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to go barefoot in summer. You can easily wear socks, even knee-high ones, in the heat. The only problem, of course, is picking out the right fabric.

That’s why today, we look at the top five best materials to keep your feet cool and dry in the summer. This ranking is based on my own experience wearing knee-high socks with trousers in the humid summer heat (90F, ~65% humidity) of northern Italy.

Your mileage may vary, but odds are if they work for me, they’ll probably work for you, too.

#5) Silk

Silk is a surprising one to make the list because silk garments aren’t renowned for their breathability. But silk is actually quite interesting because its thermoregulatory properties help you stay warm in winter and cool and summer. Personal experience shows this to be true: my wife gifted me a pair of silk socks at Christmas, and I’ve been able to wear them every month since.

But that said, they’re not as purely breathable as some of the later entries on this list, and their texture might clash with less formal summer fabrics. So while they’re an excellent complement to high-twist wool trousers, they might look a bit out of place with linen.

#4) Cotton Lisle

Here in Italy, cotton lisle is the go-to for summer tailoring. It’s a light and delicate material that holds its shape well and can be dressed up or down depending on the occasion. Because it can mesh with formal wear, it’s what most Milanese businessmen wear into the office during the summer.

That said, most cotton lisle socks are mercerized, which results in them being slightly less airy than some of the later entries on this list. Also, “cotton lisle” by itself doesn’t guarantee that they’re lightweight and breathable — you can immediately tell when you look at it, but be careful when buying online. Fortunately, many retailers now advertise “summer lisle”, which is what you want to get.

A fine-gauge cotton lisle sock will hardly ever let you down in the summertime, and there’s a reason it’s a staple in the Milanese wardrobe. But if you really want to beat the heat and stay cool no matter what, then you can’t afford to overlook this next one.

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Would it surprise you to learn that there are men online who admit to weeping at a video on how to shave?

It’s easy to forget how imposing it is the first time you bring a razor blade to your own throat and press down at unfamiliar angles, hoping not to draw blood. If you were lucky, someone taught you. But if the millions of views on “how to shave” videos are any indicator, more and more young people are learning how to do this by themselves.

Most people think this is a triviality, or a mere question of learning basic hygiene. What they miss is that it’s actually a symptom of a larger problem of fatherlessness plaguing boys. A crisis of both masculinity and mentorship, distilled into a single ten-minute lesson never taught.

But the first shave also presents an opportunity. It is a chance to reintroduce a male initiation ritual to boys who need it, one that touches on questions of philosophy, identity, and aesthetics.

Today, we’re looking at how boys become men, how a simple shaving lesson can be the most important 10 minutes of their lives, and how you, as a father, mother, uncle, or mentor, can help make a man at the razor’s edge…

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

The Need for Initiation

Unlike women, there is no clear, biological point at which a boy becomes a man. Where womanhood is a by-product of girls growing up, manhood is constructed.

In Manhood in the Making: Cultural Concepts of Masculinity, author and anthropologist David D. Gilmore examined what it means to be a man across various cultures around the world. What he found surprised him. His study determined that, with a few exceptions, cultures around the world invariably built a concept of masculinity that was more than a natural biological progression. Instead, entering into manhood required boys to struggle against adversarial forces and display the virtues required of men in their communities:

This recurrent notion that manhood is problematic, a critical threshold that boys must pass through testing, is found at all levels of sociocultural development regardless of what other alternative roles are recognized. It is found among the simplest hunters and fishermen, among peasants and sophisticated urbanized peoples; it is found in all continents and environments. It is found among both warrior peoples and those who have never killed in anger.

And yet Western culture has a dearth of initiation rituals, and this has been true for a while. Back in the 1980s, author and poet Robert Bly identified a crisis in Western men, namely that they had lost any positive image of masculinity, and that the initiatory rituals that once led men into manhood had disappeared.

“In our culture there is no such [ritual]”, he writes in his book Iron John. “The boys in our culture have a continuing need for initiation into male spirit, but old men in general don’t offer it.” Written in 1990, Iron John critiqued the lack of ability to enact male initiation. But decades later, the problem has taken on new facets; it’s not just the lack of older male ability, it’s the absence of older males as well.

Fatherlessness and its Fallout

No civilization has survived if the elders did not see their task as passing on the fruit of their experience to the young through some kind of initiation rite. We, however, look forward to old age so we can retire and move to Florida.

–Richard Rohr

There’s a YouTube Channel called “Dad, how do I?” that consists of videos instructing the audience in things that their father should have taught them: how to tie a tie, how to change a tire, how to iron a shirt, etc. Rob Kenney, the man behind the channel, grew up without a father himself, and wanted to help fill the gap that fatherlessness creates by teaching the next generation.

One of his most popular videos is “how to shave your face correctly”. Of the more than 3 million people who have watched it, around 8,500 left comments. While they are overwhelmingly grateful, many also mention how emotional the video made them:

All this from a simple video on how to shave.

The reason boys and men break down in tears watching a digital version of a father teaching them a basic life skill is because they know they shouldn’t have to do it this way. Whether its because their fathers are distant, absent or departed, they all speak to how deeply that absence is felt in this small slice of life that should be a bonding moment between father and son.

According to US census data, more than 18 million children, roughly 1 in 4, live without any kind of father in the home (biological, adoptive or stepfather). We know from multiple studies that the absence of fathers in the home also comes with a host of issues too long to mention. For instance, according to the Institute for Family Studies, men who grow up without a father in the home are significantly more likely to be idle in their twenties, less likely to graduate from college by their late twenties, and twice as likely to have spent time in jail by the age of 30.

What’s worse, the problem is self-perpetuating: one study from 2012 found that “men whose fathers were absent when they were children were more likely to become absent fathers” themselves.

This means that the longer we delay in filling the fatherlessness gap, the worse the problem becomes. But why would shaving be part of the solution?

How a First Shave Saves

And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers.

–Malachi 4:6

Shaving makes for an ideal initiation ritual for young men for a number of reasons. Its necessity arrives in the early teens when many boys start to grow facial hair with the advent of puberty, tying it to a natural process. It eventually becomes a daily event, repeated forever, which makes the initial lessons like the pebble thrown in a pond, whose ripples extend far beyond the initial impact.

Though it can be taught virtually, the lesson, to be done properly, requires a real, physical presence. The boy, looking up at the man as he lathers or shows the right way to angle the blade, has the felt experience that he is being brought into something special, something that will help him become like the men he admires.

By teaching a boy the proper use of shaving tools, you are not only teaching him a necessary skill, but you’re also providing a lesson in the importance of maintaining his appearance. You show that hygiene and taking care of yourself are not feminine values but human ones and, as studies show, prerequisites for proper self-regard. Teenage boys are not known for their impeccable grooming habits, so nipping some of those bad habits in the bud is great for everyone around you, not just your student.

As Aristotle wrote in the Nicomachean Ethics, virtue is a habit acquired through practice. It’s been demonstrated that habits engender a great range of benefits to those who hold to them, improving efficiency, time management and reducing stress. Often the most difficult part of a habit is to start, so to be that catalyst, ensuring the habit is taken up properly, is a real gift to your mentee.

If done intentionally, this can also be a spiritual opportunity as well. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that we are all made in the in imago Dei, and that implies responsibilities of care and maintenance towards that image. In 1 Corinthians, Paul teaches that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, and we should honor God with our bodies. To maintain a respectable appearance, then, is to demonstrate gratitude for the body gifted to you, and shaving is one opportunity for fathers to convey such teachings.

Hard to believe that all these benefits and more can be transmitted for the price of a disposable razor and a whisper of shaving cream…

A Note on Choice of Implements

But while any implement can provide a clean-shaven appearance, not all are created equal. If you can only obtain or afford disposable razors and spray foam, that’s fine. The important part is the transmitting of knowledge and providing a stepping stone into adulthood.

Having said that, there are many benefits, practically and symbolically, to opt for straight razors, safety razors, shaving brushes, and shaving soap. While the easy-use, disposable options are good in a pinch, they cost more in the long run, as you have to buy them more frequently. They also make for an inferior quality of shave. Choosing the more labour-intensive methods involves multiple steps – everything from learning to sharpen a blade on a strop to how to prep your brush and soap before a lather – which make the teaching process a lesson in multiple skills.

Symbolically, learning to use a real razor, brush and soap, the kind that men have shaved with for generations, serves as a connection back to a long history from which western boys often feel alienated. Real razors also carry an introductory amount of real danger and power; giving a young man such an implement is to entrust him with responsibility to use this power appropriately.

Aesthetically, straight razors in particular can be real works of art, requiring a neophyte shaver to learn to take care of and maintain not just the blade but the handle as well. Learning to take care of the things that take care of you is a vital lesson for any aspiring young man to learn, after all.

Starting a Ritual

When no one is there to help mark the occasions that make a man, boys may never feel like they’ve truly reached manhood, and the downstream effects are devastating. You’ve read the data: boys who miss out on being guided to manhood have worse outcomes across the board. So if you have someone in mind for whom you’d like to make a difference, no matter what your role in their lives, be assured that you can.

If you are a father with a son coming of age, pay attention and ask questions to make sure you notice when those first juvenile hairs begin to sprout. Don’t miss your chance to offer to initiate him because there’s yet to be a full beard or mustache. Offer at the first sign and tell them this is something important to be celebrated.

If you are a mother without a father in your child’s life, this goes beyond just the shave; actively look for male mentors who could develop rapport with your son. Your brothers, your father, even your child’s older cousins could be appropriate. The point is to recognize that there are some things that boys must learn from men, and plan ahead for when the time comes. If you’d like to see your boy thrive, finding men who can provide that initiatory element of masculinity is vital.

Likewise, if you are a man without children of your own, statistically you are surrounded by boys with absent fathers. If you have the capacity, taking one of them under your wing is one of the greatest acts of love and charity you can perform. You only need to read the comments on the videos of men teaching their audience how to shave to see just how big your impact could be on their lives.

The act of shaving on its own does not make someone a man. That process is ongoing and requires care and attention from mentors, as well as effort and risk from the boy in question. But if you can spare just the ten minutes it takes to show a kid how to shave, you’re preserving (or rebuilding) an important link between fathers and sons going back generations.

The best lessons, like the best memories, are built from the moments we decide are important to us. You have the power to decide whether that lesson will come through a parasocial relationship, or from a real, loving parent.

The textile in question is essentially God’s answer to Lululemon: it’s a breathable, durable, dry, wrinkle-resistant, and even odor-resistant fabric, but with none of the polyester, nylon, or elastane. No petrochemicals to see here!

Because of its aforementioned qualities, this fabric is used both for comfort and elegance in the summer months. When used in suiting, it holds its form incredibly well, while still remaining incredibly breathable. It’s what my suit in the photo below is made of, and the reason why I’m able to wear a double-breasted jacket in the summer without getting too hot:

So, what is this magical summer fabric? It’s actually one you already know, but probably never realized it could be worn in the heat. The secret to doing so lies not so much in the type of fabric itself, but in how it’s spun.

Today, we discover this ne plus ultra of summer textiles and what makes it superior to other fabrics. If you want to look and stay cool in the summer months, you can’t afford to ignore this one…

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For most people, terms like ornamentation and decoration have become synonyms for indulgence at best, and vanity at worst. In art, décor, and dress, we’re told the mature thing is the stripped-down, clean look of the utilitarian. Rothko over Rococo. Form follows function, etc, etc.

But this assumption is based on flawed premises. Stripped down cities aren’t progression as much as they are aggression. Rejecting the decorative harms both people and their cultures, and misunderstanding the benefits of small touches costs you dearly. By abolishing ornamentation from your environment, you make yourseld sicker and sadder, and unknowingly abandon an important aspect of civilizational self-expression.

Today, then, we explore the history of why western culture abandoned ornament, why you suffer because of it, and what you can redo to reclaim the art of ornament. As you’ll see, it’s something worth fighting for like civilization depends on it — because it does.

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

The Man Behind The Unadorned Curtain

If you frequent certain online architecture circles, the name Adolf Loos will already be familiar to you as the man many blame for the blandness that overtook architecture in the 20^th century. Loos, an Austrian architect, is best remembered as the author of Ornament and Crime, an essay where he argued that decorative touches were a step backwards in culture. For Loos, ornamentation was something to be left to the “primitives” of the world, and he believed the more advanced a civilization became, the less adorned it would be: “The evolution of culture is synonymous with the removal of ornament from utilitarian objects.”

The charges against decoration were that it necessarily made objects appear of their time and would therefore render the useful object they adorned prematurely obsolete once fashions moved on. Modern ornament, he wrote, “has no parents and no progeny, no past and no future. By uncultivated people, to whom the grandeur of our age is a book with seven seals, it is greeted joyfully and shortly afterwards repudiated.“

He also decried it as “a waste of human labour, money, and material” to create such elements, which he claimed had been divorced from real culture (in 1910, no less!).

Loos’ work evidenced his theory, and can be seen in the barefaced buildings he designed. His theories eventually promulgated and spread via the Bauhaus movement, trickling out into wider culture. The end result is that decades later, there is now an active pushback against the “minimalist fatigue” that the aesthetically attuned have felt.

Ironic it took so long, as even in his essay, Loos writes of his surprise at his audience’s reaction to the “good news” that the decorative was dead: “I believed that with this discovery I was bringing joy to the world; it has not thanked me.”

But why would Loos expect people to thank him, when his ideas have provably made us worse off?

Why Bare Walls Bother You

We shape our buildings and afterward our buildings shape us.

–Winston Churchill

One study from 2025 looked at what effect biophilic elements, things which replicate or incorporate nature, like floral patterns or the appearance of woodgrain, had on participants. One important takeaway was that the absence of such elements elicited negative emotional reactions, like stress and poorer moods which the researchers posit could be contributing to sick-building syndrome.

Another was that the more biophilic elements were present, the better people felt in those environments. Participants reported feeling more relaxed, less fatigued, feeling safer as well as more inspired an upbeat. In short:

Non-biophilic environment worsened the affective states, whereas the enhanced biophilic environment improved it gradually in terms of perceived stress reduction, regaining attentional resources, feelings of safety and inspiration.

Such studies lend credence to the theory of biophilia, which believes you have a built-in attraction to being around natural, living systems and their complex patterns, the kind emulated by natural motifs in architecture, art and design. It explains why so much of pre-modern composition draws inspiration from nature. It’s not just that the environment was a convenient source to draw from, it’s that humans naturally feel more at ease in these types of environments.

It follows then that when buildings replicate or adopt details from nature, like winding lines, branching parts or intricate flowers as flourishes, you feel better. As every region has its own nature, it also has its own culture, and both have grown in tandem to the point that the latter is often an expression of the former. Just think of the green man motif found across England, or the fleur-de-lis that populate French friezes, fences, and flags. These decorative elements speak to you in a language that is unique to its culture.

On the opposite end of this spectrum lies brutalism, an architectural punching bag of late, and with good reason. Brutalism favored towering gray structures of bare concrete with little detail, utility above all else, a perfect encapsulation of the worst elements of the urban landscapes which emerged in the 20^th century.

The visually bare structures could lead to a host of issues, like high blood pressure or long term illness, based off what we know about the effects of visual blandness-induced boredom. Professor James Danckert, a researcher on the subject of boredom, called brutalism the “apex of architectural monotony” and recommended urban designers steer clear of it for everyone’s sake: “Avoiding this monotony and brutalism will give us a vista that invites curiosity and discovery as opposed to revulsion.”

While that revulsion may feel partly instinctive, there’s another reason for it, one that explains why these buildings bother you, and potentially why Loos and his ilk directed culture down this path to begin with.

Ornamentation as Culture

The environment may be personalized to bring it into contact with man, or man may be dissolved into his environment.

–Philip Rawson, An Exalted Theory of Ornament

Philip Rawson, a dean of the School of Art and Design, Goldsmiths, University of London, writes in his 1967 essay An Exalted Theory of Ornament that “ornament” had become a dirty word in the five decades since Loos’ jeremiad against it. Rawson sought to rehabilitate the term from what he called the ‘puritan’ aesthetic, which had “thrown out the baby with the Victorian bathwater.”

Rawson argued that far from being superfluous, ornamentation is a necessary function of artistic endeavors. He separates the experience of ornamentation into two parts: Ornament itself, which is the sensuous, decorative elaboration of form that elevates and enhances, and tenor, the underlying notions or associations the ornament evokes.

Interestingly, Rawson posits a catalyst for those who, like Loos, began to reject ornamentation as primitive and uncivilized in the early 1900s. According to Rawson, soon after the start of the 20^th century, westerners were suddenly introduced to a wealth of art from all over the world whose forms they could not properly understand or appreciate:

There may have been something about, say, a Baga mask which awoke a few echoes in their minds. For these masks still represented numinous faces. That is, there was a tenor of some kind available to carry the image across to them. But there was too much missing. There were no memories or associations in a Western city-dweller’s mind related to the shapes of and to the feelings connected with the gourds, shells or horns which the forms were intended to evoke in the minds of the original customers.

The forms, therefore, seemed merely significant in a general way and the fact that a face served as a tenor seemed merely irrelevant, because the European had never known it used as the face of a dancing and moving spirit-figure which would both locate it and arouse vivid responses. […] “Expression’ is the only thing we can call this. The tenor has been dismissed as irrelevant. The magnificent figurative ‘ornament’ of meaningful associations is simply not there. And so we Europeans told ourselves there was no “message’ to get.

Seeing the elaborate ornamentation of foreign cultures, without being able to appreciate their tenor, meant that westerners concerned with art and aesthetic began to associate the decorative with the primitive, as Loos had. This rejection of the possibility of tenor in other works due to Western ignorance of it inevitably led to the rejection of tenor in Western works as well.

This is how elements like the green man motif and complex, carved frontispieces became vestigial appendages of a less civilized time, tolerated at best. The result was the creation of art and architecture bereft of ornamentation, stripped of the decorative forms that once gave them warmth, identity, and cultural meaning. Ironically, in their attempt to appear civilized and cultured, those same thinkers were undermining one of the greatest expressions of culture.

As a result, culture is lost as far as ornamentation and its tenor are rejected, something that people know intuitively even if they can’t say so. Research by IPSOS on public attitudes to beauty found that both history and memory were important factors in whether a placed was beautiful or not. They noted that there was an expressed preferences by those they interviewed for older buildings rather than newer ones, which were seen as bland and demonstrating less care and attention in their creation. The report stated that “when there is a shared history, feeling of community and pride in a place, people are more likely to say they experience beauty there.”

In the context of architecture, one of the best ways to express this is through a culture’s ornamentation. From the gargoyles and spires of Germanic gothic architecture to the baroque and rococo pastels and patterns, the more your culture is expressed in your settings, the more it feels like home.

This echoes what writer Roger Scruton warned about in his article The Modern Cult of Ugliness, where he lamented the ugliness of purely “useful” buildings. For him, when gray, concrete slab replaced the “lovely Victorian terrace streets, elegant public buildings and smart hotels” of the town where he grew up, he knew something anti-human had happened.

“There is a deep human need for beauty,” he wrote “and if you ignore that need in architecture, your buildings will not last, since people will never feel at home in them.” Stripped of the small details and flourishes that marked buildings as distinctly from a certain place, and of a certain people, those same people recognize that their buildings are not really theirs, and thus not really home.

You Can Go Home Again

The good news is that things are changing. For instance, minimalism is on its way out. People are tiring of the sterile lines, dull colors and unadorned look characteristic of both millennial apartments and prison facilities, and opting to fill their empty spaces with character and detail. Even some governments are taking action: in the UK, the Leveling Up and Regeneration Act requires design codes to design for beauty in new developments, and Sydney, Australia requires new major developments be chosen through design competitions, with architects creating projects aimed at “design excellence.”

It’s taken more than a century, but in an age of dissolving culture, we are finally recognizing that civilisation is expressed in brass doorknobs and ornamented cornices as much as in great works of literature or painting. Culture speaks through many modes, and we are tired of mute-but-useful environments.

Just as the tiniest detail can enhance a work of art, small acts of cultural promotion can help move the needle in the right direction.

In your personal life, recognize that the way you dress is a vote for the world you want to see. If you want people to pay attention to details, being careful with the details of how you present yourself is the easiest way to promote your values.

In your own spaces, view your Instagram-friendly blank walls as canvas where patterns, tiles, or historical objects can make your house a home. Opt for local, meaningful, or historical styles over cosmopolitan sleekness and whatever your realtor says is “really hot right now.” Remember that ornamentation with real tenor speaks to culture more than resale value.

You can also take these principles out into your community. Attend your local town halls when redevelopment happens, and ask about beautifying new and existing buildings through meaningful forms and details. Find and support your local heritage preservation society, and petition governments to emulate legislation like those found in the UK and US explicitly mandating for beautiful architecture.

When Adolf Loos announced the end of ornament, he was shocked that people rejected him. But after decades of concrete and modern chic, we now have the evidence to prove what even his contemporaries intuited. The evidence for the theory of biophilia demonstrates that you literally feel more at home within spaces draw from complex, natural patterns. Recognizing the importance of tenor to ornamentation tells you those patterns also transmit the stories of your culture and place you firmly within it.

Once these concepts are understood together, it makes clear that the small flourishes, the impractical additions, and the details that form culture are not wasteful. They are essential parts of who you are, and by loving and promoting these small acts of beauty, you embrace the thing that makes culture worth living in and living for.

This was a question put to me last week during my “Leisure: The Basis of Culture” retreat here in Italy. My co-host, O.W. Root, is a well-known proponent of classic American style, and does great work online encouraging others to dress with dignity. He and I have much in common, but there is one area in which we differ substantially: our personal style.

We both dress in light of the cultures we have inherited: O.W.’s style is American ivy prep, while mine is more Anglo-Italian. Since we both follow classic rules of style and proportion, however, much of what we wear is similar. But as you can see, it’s also clearly different:

You know the difference when you see it, but to put that difference into words is difficult. No, it’s not simply a matter of a suit, cuffed trousers, or a pocket square. Nor is it the cut of our jackets or the length of our trousers. What, then, is the difference?

In today’s article, we look at what distinguishes American from European style. We’ll look at what makes each style unique, as well as what they share in common. No matter which style speaks to you most, you’ll learn how to dress more authentically in light of each one.

So without further ado, join me and O.W. Root on our trip to Italy, and discover what makes style on each side of the Atlantic truly unique…

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It’s spring, which in many parts of the world means that the flowers are in bloom. You may have noticed them on your way to something or other, but did you follow the old advice to stop and smell the roses?

Most people think they don’t have time for it, but the truth is worse: they couldn’t do it if they tried.

The fracturing of your attention into bits of data to be bought and sold means there are predatory incentives to suck up every scrap of your time. You are flooded with more information in a day than your ancestors saw their entire lives, and each new piece takes a sliver of your attention with it.

Like a river over a rock, this modern sensory overload from the noise and stimulation of technology slowly destroys your sense of perception, and with it, your ability to truly experience wonder. Even when surrounded by beauty, you’re too fried to notice or appreciate it. You look at things, but you can’t really see them.

The consequences of this are far reaching and have dire physical, moral, and theological repercussions. But fortunately, there is a time-proven path back to sanity. Today, then, we look at how technology destroys your ability to see beauty, why attention is a form of prayer, and what toads can teach you about turning your soul back towards the good, true, and beautiful…

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

The Problem

Depending on your sources, the average person spends anywhere between 5 to 7 hours a day on screens of some kind. So it won’t be news to anyone that of course they’re a big part of the problem.

In 2004, Gloria Mark, a professor of informatics and author of Attention Span: A Groundbreaking Way to Restore Balance, Happiness, and Productivity, began shadowing people, stopwatch in hand, and timing how long they spent on different tasks throughout the day. At the time, the average attention span on any screen was roughly two and a half minutes. Soon a trend emerged, as attention spans on screens had shortened year after year, to the point that people averaged about 75 seconds of attention on a screen by 2012. In the last few years, it’s dropped again to around 47 seconds.

A 2019 study from the University of Chicago found that the omnipresence of smartphones in your daily life comes with real drawbacks. Most notably, the study says that the mere presence of your phone near you showed evidence of what the researchers called “brain drain” a lowering of both available working memory capacity and functional fluid intelligence. Put simply, your brain spends additional energy trying to fight off temptation when it knows your phone is around, making it harder for it to do the primary task it’s been assigned.

Studies on individuals with Internet addiction show they have reduced levels of dopamine D2 receptor availability. In other words, their brains were so overstimulated by the internet that they produced fewer dopamine receptors to deal with the flood of easy dopamine. The result? They were less able to feel good or satisfied about anything, and thus kept looking for their next, stronger “hit.”

One paper on technological overstimulation, defined as “being stimulated mentally or physiologically to an excessive degree by an excess of information”, wrote that the overstimulation provided by phones clearly results in a decrease in attention span. The need to constantly check your phone is akin to your brain being unaccustomed to focusing intently for long periods without immediate dopaminergic rewards. The author of the paper equated this to society having developed a phobia of being bored.

Another study from 2022 by King’s College London found that half of all adults said they were not able to stop from checking their phones, even when they were trying to focus. So even if you wanted to pay attention to something, odds are you can’t. Scariest of all, this draining of your attention is robbing you of the essential skill you need to truly encounter the beauty around you.

The Solution: A Toad’s Eye?

Joys that may wait for centuries,
And light at last on Socrates,
Or on the frog, whose eyes
You may have noticed full of bright surprise—
Or have you not ? Ah, then
You only think of men !

-T.E.Brown, Respondet Demiurgos

To better understand why attention is a precondition for beauty and wonder, look no further than your front yard. That’s what George Orwell did in 1946 when, as Spring returned to England, a pensive Orwell wrote an essay titled Some Thoughts On The Common Toad.

A meditation on the renewal that Spring brought to his dingy corner of London, the essay wants you to take a second look at the cityscape around you to see the beauty that blooms there. The pleasures of spring, he writes, are everywhere, and cost nothing to enjoy. The beauty of the season infiltrates even the gloomiest of spaces, if we only take the time to notice:

Even in the most sordid street the coming of spring will register itself by some sign or other, if it is only a brighter blue between the chimney pots or the vivid green of an elder sprouting on a blitzed site.

Most memorably, he draws your attention to the common toad, a tiny creature born in the muck and mire, and much ignored by the poets. And yet, in the spring, as it emerges from its winter fast, shrunken and wiry, the toad’s eyes bulge out. This abnormal largeness allows you not just to look at them, but to see their eyes. When you do, you’ll notice that:

a toad has about the most beautiful eye of any living creature […] like gold, or more exactly it is like the golden-coloured semi-precious stone which one sometimes sees in signet rings.

Think about how much attention this one statement requires. By being conscious of the world around him, Orwell noticed that these tiny brown bodies changed with the seasons, which in turn meant their eyes appeared larger. And on closer inspection of this otherwise neglected creature, Orwell found the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.

It’s a microcosm of what awaits anyone willing to pay attention; the treasures hidden everywhere in plain sight, for those willing to observe the rhythms set by nature.

A similar point is made by American scientist Samuel Scudder in his essay Take this Fish and Look at it. The piece recounts his introduction to Harvard Professor Louis Agassiz upon enrolling as a student of natural history. On hearing Scudder’s enthusiasm to get started, the professor obliges and pulls out a fish specimen, asking him to study it and share his findings when he returns from his other duties.

Scudder dutifully examines the fish for ten minutes before thinking he’d seen all he needed to see, but, informed his professor would be gone several hours, and with no other task before him, he returns to his specimen. Hours of looking at it from all angles, and he still finds it ghastly and hideous.

On Agassiz’ return, Scudder dutifully shares his findings, telling him of “the fringed gill arches and movable operculum; the pores of the head, fleshy lips and lidless eyes; the lateral line, the spinous fins, and forked tail; the compressed and arched body.” Thinking his examination exhaustive, Scudder is mortified to hear Agassiz say “You have not looked very carefully, why you haven’t even seen one of the most conspicuous feature of the animal which is plainly before your eyes as the fish itself; look again, look again!”

By the end of the afternoon, he was convinced he’d seen every inch of that fish but couldn’t figure out what feature his professor had meant, and went home to think more on his subject. Fearing that he would forget the things he would have to recount the next day, he spent the evening walking by a river in reflection on what he’d learned. The next morning, thinking he’d solved the riddle, he shared his thoughts only to be tasked another day with the fish:

“That is good, that is good!” [Agassiz] repeated; “but that is not all; go on”; and so for three long days he placed that fish before my eyes, forbidding me to look at anything else, or to use any artificial aid. “Look, look, look,” was his repeated injunction.

At the end of the ordeal, Scudder writes that this was the single best lesson he’d received “a legacy the Professor had left to me […] of inestimable value, which we could not buy, with which we cannot part.”

That legacy is the gift of real, sustained attention. It was only in exhaustive contemplation that Scudder could really see the part of his subject that were of value. By overcoming that initial belief that he had seen what there was to see, he was able to truly find what was so remarkable about the thing in front of him. The idea is simply this; everything can be an object of fascination, an object of wonder, if only we are able to spend the time and attention required.

Nice as these stories are, don’t make the mistake of thinking the ability to pay attention is purely a question of aesthetics. Orwell believed that the ability to pay attention to things like trees, fish, butterflies or toads, would lead to a more peaceful and decent future.

This is because the alternative, as he saw it, was focusing on the “steel and concrete” of the world which “merely makes it a little surer that human beings will have no outlet for their surplus energy except in hatred and leader worship.” But politics are not all that’s at stake, and there are great philosophical reasons this should worry you.

Encountering the “Unself”

Philosopher Iris Murdoch believed that what keeps you from acting ethically is not a desire to do evil, but a lack of attentiveness. We look at – but do not see – others, nature or the world, and that lack of perceiving those things as they are, rather than as mere elements within our own lives, is how we allow ourselves to act selfishly.

In her 1970 book The Sovereignty of Good, she describes the concept of “unselfing” a process of forgetting yourself as you pay attention to the beauty in the world around you. From her book:

Beauty is the convenient and traditional name of something which art and nature share, and which gives a fairly clear sense to the idea of quality of experience and change of consciousness. I am looking out of my window in an anxious and resentful state of mind, oblivious of my surroundings, brooding perhaps on some damage done to my prestige.

Then suddenly I observe a hovering kestrel. In a moment everything is altered. The brooding self with its hurt vanity has disappeared. There is nothing now but kestrel. And when I return to thinking of the other matter it seems less important. And of course this is something which we may also do deliberately: give attention to nature in order to clear our minds of selfish care.

In Murdoch’s philosophy, unselfing is seeing beauty as it pulls you out of yourself. You then look past what she called the “fat, relentless ego” and towards reality. It thus engages you in an authentic way that both calms and comforts.

French Catholic philosopher Simone Weil came to a similar conclusion regarding attention. For Weil, attention meant an openness to the world as it is, without the distraction of the self. In her posthumous book Gravity and Grace, she writes:

Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love.

Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.

If we turn our mind toward the good, it is impossible that little by little the whole soul will not be attracted thereto in spite of itself.

Understood this way, the perception of beauty isn’t a passive act, but an active discipline that must be practiced before it is done well. For both Murdoch and Weil, attention, and especially attention to beauty, holds great insight for those willing to engage with it.

This is why the weakening of that attention is a problem. It’s not just that it limits your appreciation of beauty, but that it limits the transformative effects beauty can have on you when contemplated with the whole of your being.

Though Weil does touch on the spiritual nature of this, there’s much more to be said about how fragmented attention affects your relationship with the divine.

Distraction Against the Divine

Beauty captivates the flesh in order to obtain permission to pass right to the soul.

–Simone Weil, Awaiting God

This is an especially pressing question for Christians. A traditional understanding of beauty in the church is that it has ontological significance. St. Thomas Aquinas lists beauty as one of the transcendentals alongside others like truth and goodness. And where you find one, you find the others. If truth and goodness accompany beauty, then to the extent that your perception of beauty is impaired, so too will your connection to truth and goodness be limited.

According to Aquinas, in order to understand beauty, you need to perceive it with your senses, which then transmits this to the intellect for interpretation. This process allows you to appreciate beauty both in itself aesthetically and also as a connection to its greater, divine source, God, from whom all beauty comes. So whether you’re looking at toads or fish, Aquinas writes: “The beauty of the creature is nothing else than the likeness of the divine beauty participated in things.”

So, if the perception of beauty allows you to get closer to God, then the consequences of a dulling of that perception are both obvious, and worrying. A narrowing of your appreciation of beauty is a limitation placed on your ability to perceive the divine. As Simone Weil said, “The beauty of this world is Christ’s tender smile coming to us through matter.” If your senses are too fragmented, if you aren’t able to focus on beauty that deserves it, you will miss this tender missive God meant for all of us.

Fortunately, there are ways to make visible the invisible for those with the conviction to do so.

What’s the Fix?

If you like the ideas you’ve encountered today but aren’t sure how to start seeing rather than looking, just do what Orwell and Scudder did; pick something mundane and examine it until you’ve found one thing that is truly wonderful about it. Go to a local park, sit down with an everyday object, or lock yourself in a bare room if you have to, just focus your attention on one simple thing until you find something beautiful about whatever you’re looking at. You’ll find it’s harder than you think, but also far more rewarding.

And if you aren’t sure you can give up your screens, the 2019 study from the University of Chicago mentioned previously has some encouraging news. It found that the harder it is to give up, the better the results: “those who depend most on their devices suffer the most from their salience, and benefit the most from their absence.” In layman’s terms, the more addicted you are to your devices, the greater the benefit from chucking them in another room or leaving them at home. The study suggests that “defined and protected” periods of separation, i.e. a set time where your tech gets locked up, allows not only for fewer distractions, but also frees up mental space otherwise preoccupied with your screens.

An easy way to start this habit, and perhaps the best way, is when you wake up in the morning, do nothing. Don’t look at your phone, no podcasts, no music, no running through a checklist of to-do’s. The benefits of silent moments are pronounced, and having that mental space free can make the difference between a day of obligations and one with that notices the small bits of beauty sprinkled throughout your day.

As Weil points out, attention and prayer are kin to one another. Taking time to pray or meditate is an excellent and time-honored way of entering contemplation. It’s spending time directing your intention towards something greater than yourself, and when done right, can also be an act of “unselfing.” It’s so simple as to almost not be worth mentioning, but it’s so beneficial that it can’t be omitted, either.

A Final Thought on Orwell’s Toad

Orwell ends his essay conveying the sense of worry that hung thick over his nation at the time of writing “The atom bombs are piling up in the factories, the police are prowling through the cities, the lies are streaming from the loudspeakers,” he writes, “but the earth is still going round the sun.” Despite the reasons for worry, his optimism, his belief in the wonder found in every day, remains.

Likewise, in the midst of an all out assault on your senses, under the shadow of the massive colossus of screens and stimulation made to harvest your eyeballs, you can still turn to the beauty of the everyday. Take back control of your attention, and you’ll see your relationship with beauty transformed. The world is filled with small wonders and beauty reserved for those willing (and able) to pay attention. Living in the blue light of your phone is sapping your ability to see the light of the divine that surrounds you.

The beauty is there, waiting, in the eye of a toad. The question is: will you – can you – take the time to look?

When it comes to how to dress, summer complicates everything. All other seasons afford you a degree of flexibility: a tie, scarf, sweater, light jacket, overcoat, boots, etc. can all be used to add character and flexibility to your outfit.

In summer however, sometimes the only answer seems to be to remove clothing. How do you dress elegantly when anything more than a t-shirt and shorts causes you to break out in sweat?

This is the question we’ve begun to address in our previous two articles (here and here) about James Bond’s summer style. In those, we covered topics such as which fabrics are the most breathable, the versatility of camp collars, and how tanned skin impacts which colors look good on you.

But amidst it all, one question remains: what do you put on your feet?

This is the question we set out to answer today, pulling once more from the adventures of 007. We’ll look at the three main staples of summer footwear, and address the most divisive topic of them all: to sock, or not to sock?

The answer might well surprise you…

Read more

For the better part of a decade, the human face has been subject to a disturbing trend. Prominent pouts, chiseled jaws, cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass; more and more, both people are beginning to converge on a type of facial ideal. The trend is so pronounced that people are now wondering: are we all going to end up with the same face?

This isn’t limited to the chronically online, those getting plastic surgery, or people using social media filters. This has real health and spiritual consequences, not to mention the stifling image of “beauty” we are creating for ourselves. At its worst, the pursuit of the perfect face leaves some unable to feel anything at all.

Ignoring the problems won’t make them go away, but there are things you can do to push back against a trend that seeks to erase your individuality. Today, we look at why this is happening, what George Orwell can teach you about it, and the physical and spiritual consequences of an unattainable ideal.

What are the best methods to fight back against the pressure to conform to a standard set by algorithms? Let’s find out…

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

Where Did This “One Face” Come From?

In 2019, an article by Jia Tolentino made the rounds where the author investigated what was then called “Instagram face.” The piece’s subtitle, How social media, FaceTune, and plastic surgery created a single, cyborgian look, alludes to the quasi-transhumanist nature of the trend; when your perception of your self feels “realer” or “truer” in its filtered form, a part of “you” needs the technology to change your face (at least until you can afford surgeries to make the change permanent).

In her article, Tolentino went to the heart of the phenomenon, Los Angeles, and asked people working in the beauty industry about what they were seeing. The trend for women, they told her, was towards a unified type of face, a Kim Kardashian or Bella Hadid look — features like a small nose, full lips, high cheekbones and zero visible pores – which an interviewee called Instagram face. The term can refer to both the type of face that worked best for engagement on social media, but also the one beauty filters and apps, like Facetune, were optimized to create.

The homogenizing effect of filters isn’t just speculation; one 2025 study went through 225 beautifying Instagram filters and found there was indeed a “digital beauty template”, a hegemonic style of digital facial modification that repeatedly opted for the same features. As one researcher put it, the digital beauty template, though containing underlying European beauty standards, was still “highly unattainable to all users – certain ‘ethnic’ features are selectively appropriated whilst others are erased, producing a filtered appearance that is ambiguously ‘exotic.’”

These findings mirror what one makeup artist from Tolentino’s article said, that the Instagram “look” combined influences from South Asian, African American, Caucasian, Native American and Middle Eastern faces into an appearance of “rootless exoticism.”

In other words, the face that everyone is striving towards, the face that algorithms, filters, and celebrities promote, truly belongs to no one and nowhere. It’s an illusion, and one that’s causing real-world harm.

The Consequences of Having “Inferior Faces”

Young girls are now bringing up photos of themselves on apps with the filters applied and asking cosmetic surgeons to make them look like their filtered selves. Its so common that the surgeons refer to it as “Snapchat dysmorphia.” The correlation between constant exposure to impossible beauty and feelings of inferiority are so strong as to be undeniable. One 2025 study from Stanford found that adults with significantly higher time spent on social media were far more likely to have body dysmorphia, while another study found that while text-based social media saw no effect, image-based social media platforms in particular were “significantly and positively associated with body dysmorphic symptoms.”

And while the facial convergence you’re seeing with some women isn’t happening to men yet, there’s an argument that they’re just catching up to where women are. According to one recent study, 70 percent of young adult women are unhappy with their bodies, but 60 percent of men are as well. In fact, there’s plenty of evidence that feelings of looking inferior to an idealized self aren’t gender specific. For instance more men than ever are now seeking plastic surgery, and the male looksmaxxing subculture is producing men who obsess over jaw width and facial proportions to an unhealthy degree, to the point that it will inevitably create its own version of the “perfect” male face convergence.

Regardless of which gender does it, the pursuit of the perfect face runs the risk of eliminating the thing that made faces truly worth looking at.

Expression as Identity

Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness.”

–Genesis 1:26

Viewing your face, or any part of your body, as an object to be modified changes your relationship to it in a way that rejects its God-given nature. Every person is made in the image of God in their own way, and to reject that through radical intervention is a refusal to accept a gift of God. The Vatican’s International Theological Commission recently published a document, Quo Vadis, Humanitas?, addressing this issue head on:

Once modified, often with relentless frenzy, the body becomes a body-object in which the person-subject mirrors themselves, creating a relationship in which the person is no longer his or her body but ‘owns’ a body, from which arises the search for a ‘borrowed’ identity. In this dynamic, it is no longer necessary to accept one’s own body in order to realise one’s identity. It can be transformed according to the tastes of the moment.

A curious situation is created: the ideal body is exalted, sought after and cultivated, while the real body is not truly loved, being a source of limitations, fatigue and aging. One desires a perfect body, while dreaming of escaping from one’s own concrete body and its limitations.

Escaping from your real face in this way also leaves behind a fundamental aspect of who you are. In his essay, Aesthetic Significance of the Face, sociologist George Simmel wrote that the face takes on the lion’s share of conveying your personality through expression, but also through the record it keeps of your actions:

In the face, […] the emotions typical of the individual – hate or timorousness, a gentle smile or a restless espying of advantage, and innumerable others – leave lasting traces. In the face alone, emotion first expressed in movement is deposited as the expression of permanent character. By virtue of this singular malleability, only the face becomes the geometric locus, as it were, of the inner personality, to the degree that it is perceptible.

Simmel also credits this “location” of personality in your face to Christianity, which he writes had a tendency to cover the body, making a person’s face the sole representative of his appearance. This can be seen in the story of the garden of eden, where Adam and Eve feel shame on realizing their nakedness and cover themselves, or passages like 1 Timothy 1:29 which says women should “adorn themselves with proper clothing, modestly and discreetly.” This religious connection to the prominence of the face in beauty is more than incidental, however.

Philosopher Dietrich Von Hildebrand writes that the human face was created for expression, and it is in making expressions that you find the union of “physiological process with inner psychic and spiritual processes,” meaning the face displays things that otherwise only exist at the level of the mind or the soul. The human face is uniquely capable of transmitting the world of the invisible to the visible, to take your inner sentiment, your inner self, and manifest it outwardly. This is the true key to what can make any face beautiful.

Of course, there are faces that are naturally beautiful through their symmetrical form, the proportions between eyes, nose, mouth, chin, etc. These parts form a whole that is beautiful regardless of the expression on that face. But there is another path to a beautiful face, even for those who lack this formal beauty, those which are beautiful through expressions of goodness, purity, or intellectual statue. As Hildebrand says: “A look from eyes in which playful charm is linked to kindness and purity can possess a high degree of aesthetic value.”

Naturally, the question that arises with all this information is: what happens to identity when you change its most prominent physical feature?

A Permanent Mask

In the face […] there is always an expression of the personality; if it were devoid of all expression, it would be a mask.

–Dietrich von Hildebrand, Aesthetics, Vol. I.

Most “influenced” people do their best without drastic surgeries, relying on makeup, constant filter use, easy Botox or the occasional face hammering . But the closer you are to the limelight – or the more you want to be– the more likely you are to want that unnatural perfection. This desire makes perfect sense when you consider the origins of Instagram face; the onslaught of too-perfect content on social media and the pressure felt by those at the centre of the digital panopticon to look a certain way.

Though you might not think George Orwell would have insight into this, one of his short stories discusses this tension decades before the first smartphone. In Shooting an Elephant, George Orwell recounts an incident during his time as a British police officer in Burma where he had to put down a rampaging elephant in front of a crowd. He describes the tension between being seen as the person in control and yet feeling trapped into performing that role for onlookers.

Despite his purported position of control as a representative of colonial power, he felt like a puppet, made to act, a “hollow, posing dummy” who spent his time trying to impress the expectant crowd:

Here was I, the white man with his gun, standing in front of the unarmed native crowd – seemingly the leading actor of the piece; but in reality I was only an absurd puppet pushed to and fro by the will of those yellow faces behind. […] For it is the condition of [the white man’s] rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the “natives,” and so in every crisis he has got to do what the “natives” expect of him. He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it. The crowd would laugh at me. And my whole life, every white man’s life in the East, was one long struggle not to be laughed at.

Orwell felt that pressure in one striking incident and had to write it out for catharsis’ sake. In his performance of “the man in charge,” which he felt was demanded by the literal crowd around him, Orwell resemble the modern day beauty influencer, who has no choice but to act out what is expected of them. And that expectation is often to be the most beautiful, the most desirable, the most flawless they can be. Imagine how Orwell would have felt had his expectant crowd followed him everywhere he went for his whole life, like those on social media do now?

In a world where privacy is rapidly becoming a luxury good, the only defense is that of the zebra; blend in with the herd, look like your peers – or who social media says are your peers — as any anomaly will allow the lions to target you. People are rightly terrified of exposing themselves to the great eye of the internet mob, a false, fickle god who loves one day and destroys the next, as it’s a god whose worship ultimately destroys you.

Author Claire Raymond explains how this happens in her book The Selfie, Temporality, and Contemporary Photography. Raymond writes that “Instagram face” is essentially a mask, and in more ways than one. Not only does it hide the person who has adopted it through plastic surgery but the subdermal injections and other procedures necessary to attain it have likely numbed their face to the point it feels and acts like a mask as well; less able to feel, less able to show emotion. “Numbness is the central feature of the experience for the woman who gets Instagram Face through cosmetic procedures. Others may see her more, but she feels less and less.” In this way, adopting this impossible face offers a trade off; you are flattening one part of your identity and protecting another.

For those of you who understandably would rather not live in a world where this trade-off is seen as a good one, what can be done?

The Fix

The good news is that there are some concrete steps you can take to combat this phenomenon. Kids are especially impressionable when it comes to visual media, but talking to them and making them aware of both the issue and their social media diet can mitigate the damage. Studies have shown that cutting social media use in half for a few weeks goes a long way to improving a person’s body image. Likewise, making your social media text-based (*cough* Substack *cough*) as opposed to visual based has a noticeable effect.

If you do have visual-media based accounts, next time you are doomscrolling, take a minute and audit how you feel when looking at different health, fitness, or beauty accounts. If they inspire you to work on yourself, that’s one thing, but if instead they create a sense of despair, of impossibility, you’re looking at something you’re better off unfollowing.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, reconsider your relationship with your face. As Hildebrand, Simmel and others have shown, your face is where who you are is made apparent to the world. To wish it to be someone else’s is in part to will the erasure of your self. Part of being human is living with flaws, and when you smooth them out, you erase what makes you, you. Every smile, every frown, every smirk is like water over river rocks, slowly, imperceptibly changing your face into something that reflects your disposition.

It follows then that being conscious about the expressions you wear gives you control about the lasting message your face will communicate to the world. Ask yourself: what do you want your face to say about you?

When influencers and celebrities decide that one face is best, they are admitting a deep insecurity about themselves and their place in the world. But as we’ve seen, that “ambiguously exotic” look is exotic to everyone precisely because it doesn’t belong anywhere, or to anyone. But adopting alien features is, by definition, alienating. Instead, when you learn to love and accept your face, the one made in the image of God, it will be beautiful no matter how it looks, and you’ll know where you belong.

James Bond is a man better known for his black-and-white tuxedos than his pink linen button downs. And yet, when it comes to dressing for the summer, the latter is far more appropriate. Homme élégant that he is, Bond knows this, and dresses accordingly when operating in tropical regions.

But why is color more appropriate in hot climates? The answer might surprise you, as biology has a large role to play. As I’ve written elsewhere,

Neither your skin color nor facial contrast are static, and indeed they often change with the seasons. Sun exposure, for example, tends to increase the degree of contrast in your facial features: it lightens your hair while darkening your skin. But since light reflects less off of tanned skin, the relative brightness of your features changes, too. The whites of your teeth and eyes, as well as the natural redness of your lips or cheeks, now appear brighter by comparison.

The result of this is that men and women who typically wear austere colors in cold climates can dress far more vibrantly in the tropics. The Duke of Windsor, for example, when Governor of the Bahamas, was able to dress in a way he never would have been able to in England:

Last week, we broke down a classic Bond look from the 1965 film Thunderball. We looked at camp collars, linen trousers, and the versatility of cream colored clothing. It was a great intro on how to dress well in the heat, but it lacked one thing: a healthy dose of color.

This week, we return to the Bahamas to study Bond at his most colorful. We’ll analyze the color, pattern, and fabric of four different shirts to share inspiration for your summer wardrobe. We’ll also look at one of 007’s rare stylistic mishaps, and how you can beat Bond at his own game this summer…

Read more

Of what importance is beauty to a Christian? What functions or purposes does it serve? The good, true, and beautiful make for a pleasant set of goals, but while the first two are inarguably of value, the beautiful has its detractors.

Ecclesiastes tells us that “all things are vanity,” and things that at first seem beautiful can certainly turn out to be snares for sin. The concern for beauty in the realm of clothing attracts many such criticisms. Most people consider the fuzzy line between material beauty and vanity to be dangerously easy to cross, and thus shy away from the one for fear of the other.

But, as we shall see, such a perspective ignores the deep value of visual beauty, and completely misses the point.

That’s why today, we look at different types of beauty, answer common objections to perceived vanity, and defend the “merely” beautiful as a positive good. Let’s begin…

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

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Metaphysical vs. Formal Beauty

When asked whether beauty matters in a Christian context, the answer is self-evident. The beauty of God’s mercy, the beauty of redemption, of virtue, of a humble soul: all these and more are good. These are examples of metaphysical beauty, an emanation that radiates out from the inner goodness of a thing itself.

Metaphysical beauty is qualitative, and is a product of the greatness from which it proceeds. This is the type of beauty of the Lord described in Zechariah 9:17: “For how great is his goodness, and how great his beauty!” Few people take issue with this form of beauty in Christian thought. Indeed, much of the faith is built upon divine beauty in some form or another.

In contrast, there is the beauty of form, that which you encounter in nature, art, architecture and, yes, clothes. Nature’s beauty, evidence of the intentions of its creator, can be appreciated outside of the questions of morality. But the closer the idea of beauty gets to the person, the more it elicits suspicion.

In his Confessions, St. Augustine asks a question that is deceptively simple:

Do we love anything but the beautiful? What, then, is beautiful? And what is beauty? What is it that allures and unites us to the things we love; for unless there were a grace and beauty in them, they could by no means attract us to them? And I marked and perceived that in bodies themselves there was a beauty from their forming a kind of whole, and another from mutual fitness, as one part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with a foot, and so on.

Notice the use of a mundane example in the shoe in relation to the foot. Beauty, Augustine says, can be found even in these material things. Yet the alluring nature of this beauty which Augustine identifies is what makes certain Christians approach it with unease. The beauty of a sunset or a bird’s call is exterior to you and doesn’t run the risk of flattering your ego, whereas a well-put together outfit does.

There is a long tradition within Christian thought that treats this issue with caution. Monastic practices of asceticism, along with passages such as 1 Peter and 1 Timothy, urge believers not to ground their sense of worth in outward adornment, but in “the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit” and in “good deeds”. While these sources stop short of condemning beauty itself, they consistently redirect attention away from external display and toward interior virtue.

Such concerns are not restricted to the realm of beauty. Food, money, and relationships all run the risk of being misused. Beauty tied to the self does pose a particular risk, but this greater risk of self-referentialism does not mean it is inherently disordered. As we’ve covered elsewhere, it simply requires a greater awareness of intention.

Ultimately, the question is not whether beauty can be a disordered attachment, but what it looks like when properly ordered. And since metaphysical beauty is rarely the concern, a deeper look at how to correctly order formal beauty is in order.

Utility Is Not Superior

In an attempt to skirt around the danger of misuse, one path is to regard beauty of form as inconsequential — at best a neutral thing, not evil, but of little consequence to a life lived for God. The things of great value are those which are of a moral or spiritual concern. For a certain kind of person, even beyond these higher concerns, the functional or practical should take precedent; it is more important that a house not leak from its roof than that it be wonderful to look at.

In his book Beauty: What It Is and Why It Matters, John-Mark Miravalle writes responding to this contention that it does not address the fullness of the problem, namely that humans aren’t wired that way:

We could, and most of us probably would, describe the nature and purpose of a house, or clothing, or food, without making any reference to beauty. And yet we don’t want these things merely to fulfill their material function. We don’t want just shelter, or something we can wear to keep us from being exposed, or raw nutrition. We want to be delighted by more than just the satisfaction of our material needs.

Miravalle asserts that this need for delight is a reality of the human experience, not some malfunction of its faculties, and as such seeks to draw you closer to God. The draw to beauty of form is therefore not bait to fall into sin; it functions instead as a compass towards the good and true.

Admittedly, there is truth that beauty of form is a secondary concern in the Christian mind (“seek ye first the kingdom of God…”), but this does not render the utilitarian approach to the material a superior one. If you are to argue that the useful is more important than the beautiful in the physical world, does this not run contrary to Christ’s admonishment that you should not concern yourself with “what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on”?

This often misunderstood passage shows that even necessary concerns — such as where to food, drink, and clothing — are secondary to seeking the kingdom of God. If even these practical necessities can be set aside in this way, then beauty cannot be dismissed as mere frivolity by comparison. By that standard, all things are frivolous next to the pursuit of the kingdom. And yet, formal beauty is not just a secondary concern; it actually fulfills a great purpose, one that becomes clear when you understand what an encounter with it can do to you.

The Goodness of Formal Beauty

As an embodied creature, you exist in the realm of the physical and the real. A realm that God populated with a kaleidoscopic variety of beautiful forms. This decision was deliberate, and as Genesis indicates this creation was indeed “good,” it can be inferred that there is value to the numerous, beautiful forms within it.

For Catholic Theologian Hans Urs Von Balthasar, it is precisely through these forms that you can better know the higher manifestation of beauty:

Only that which has form can snatch one up into a state of rapture. Only through form can the lightning-bolt of eternal beauty flash. There is a moment in which the bursting light of spirit as it makes its appearance completely drenches external form in its rays.

There is a saying in Zen Buddhism which provides a useful illustration here: “Do not mistake the finger pointing at the moon with the moon.” This means you should not mistake the thing directing you towards something with the thing itself. In Von Balthasar’s example, beautiful forms are not merely fingers pointing at the transcendent, they are more like a channel or vessel through which the transcendent, otherwise far off in the distance, can finally be seen from the physical world. It is this characteristic that explains why the various forms which beauty takes, from cathedrals to poetry, direct your thoughts beyond the world they inhabit.

The implications of this for humans is profound. When you attempt to craft beautiful forms, be it a building, a garden or an outfit, you participate in some small way in the same act that first brought beauty into the world. Such creations are not guaranteed vessels of transcendence, and beauty of form of personal creation depends entirely on how it is intended. As Dietrich Von Hildebrand writes in Beauty in the Light of Redemption:

All possessions that appeal to our pride and our sensual appetites, indeed, all that are subjectively gratifying, lose their radiance for the redeemed, for the man, who has found the pearl of great price of the Gospel. All possessions, however, that have real value, that in themselves are honorable, excellent, significant, that fall like dew from above and ascend to God like incense, achieve a higher and new radiance in Christ.

Think of the Pure, Lovely and Admirable

Beauty of form is not meant as a trap (though it can ensnare the unwary). It is not a thing that you must suppress to be righteous, and it is not something to be shunned because of its proximity to your self. As Augustine observed, beauty calls to you, and that calling is no mistake. The beautiful in form is not a distraction or hindrance, but a direction towards something greater.

This is why the two forms of beauty mentioned at the outset, the metaphysical and the formal, are not either/or propositions, but instead are links in a chain between heaven and earth. This is why, when formal beauty is pursued for the right reasons, no matter what medium you choose, it leads to something greater than the sum of its parts.

So take heart that the beautiful in form and the divine need not be at odds with each other. They are two parts of a greater whole, working in tandem for the good. Instead of causing concern, the former should call you to contemplation of the latter. As Paul wrote to the Philippians:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

The most common question I get from readers is, “how should I dress in warm weather?” Because I write so much about jackets, suits, and ties, it’s a natural question. Many of these items get tossed aside in summer in favor of lighter, cooler fabrics.1

Unfortunately, most people take this to mean that summertime is inherently informal, or that there’s no way to look elegant in the heat. Over the next few weeks, I want to debunk these claims, and show how you can retain an elevated and dignified wardrobe during the summer months. We’ll begin by studying one of the best to ever do it: James Bond.

The early Bond films see 007 visit Jamaica, the Bahamas, Istanbul, Thailand, Venice, and other warm-weather, exotic locales. On each occasion, we get to see Bond (and often his enemies) shed the suit and don something more casual, though always elegant.

Over the coming weeks, we’ll take look at different ensembles James Bond wears in these hotter climates in order to give you inspiration for your own wardrobe. We’ll set aside the suits for a moment and enjoy something more casual: a secret agent on vacation, dressed to kill in more ways than one.

To kick this series off, let’s begin with a classic look from 1965’s Thunderball, in which Bond chases an international crime ring to the sandy shores of Nassau, Bahamas. If you plan on spending any time in tropical weather this summer, you can’t go wrong wearing this…

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When you look into the mirror in the morning, you are faced with a number of choices: What shirt do I wear? What colors or patterns are appropriate for where I’m going? Most people think this is mere necessity, what must be done to account for the day’s weather and what propriety demands.

Perhaps for those who think that way, this is true. But there is a deeper process at play if you’re willing to see it. Once you understand that your wardrobe is a palette and your body a canvas, you’ll never see your morning routine the same way again.

Today, we tackle some of the arguments for and against personal style as art, explore how your intentions can make or break an outfit, and show why thinking of your style as an artistic signal will transform the way you interact with the world.

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

How Can Style Be Art?

One should either be a work of art or wear a work of art.

–Oscar Wilde

A philosophical definition of style as art has to confront the nebulousness of “art” as a term. Common definitions in a post-Duchamp, banana-duct-taped-to-the-wall world are a challenge. Abstract painter Jackson Pollock, in the middle of a conversation on the subject, once drove a nail into his living room floor and declared “Damn it, that’s art!” to make his point.

Nearly a century before him, painter George Seurat said that “art is harmony” and left it at that. But such approaches don’t tell you much. If “everything is art” or “all that is harmonious is art” then there’s hardly a discussion to be had.

A good definition should be workable, and post-modern approaches don’t tell you much. A more useful definition (though not the only useful one) comes from the American Heritage Dictionary, which says that art is:

The conscious use of the imagination in the production of objects intended to be contemplated or appreciated as beautiful, as in the arrangement of forms, sounds, or words.

Taking the criteria from this definition, we see that style, as an imaginative, conscious creation of an outfit by an individual using the forms and pieces in a collection, results in an ensemble that is meant to be appreciated as beautiful. In this way, style conforms to this workable definition of art.

A standard argument against style as art is that it merely uses articles of clothing; it does not create anything new. But the outfit as medium requires you to be aware of lines, shapes, color theory, the interplay of textures, patterns, and proportions. It requires an imagination honed through experience with the material to produce beauty.

Another counterargument is that clothes are meant to be functional and for this reason should be discounted as art. The theory goes that clothes cover and protect as a primary function, and any other purpose is merely ornamental. While an argument from functionality seems compelling, to accept it would exclude artistic mediums like pottery or architecture, which both have utility but are still generally recognized as artistic mediums.

Additionally, within the medium of clothing itself, we often find details created for utilitarian purposes morphing over time to become something more. In her book Seeing Through Clothes, art historian Anne Hollander writes that the stylistic elements of dress often eclipse the practical:

It is obvious that certain details of dress have originally been invented for utilitarian purposes. But it is equally obvious that the desire for a satisfying-looking style in dress is stronger than any need for useful arrangements, since the looks of such arrangements have often proved much more enduring than their use. Also, their utility has often been quickly sacrificed to stylistic considerations.

The lapels on early military uniforms, for example, which were intended to cross over and keep the chest warm, were speedily atrophied into decorative flaps, worn buttoned open to show the color of the facing. They could still button across, too, but they were never worn so.

In this way, while dress, like architecture, does fulfill a primary purpose, it can be elevated from practical necessity into the realm of art. To say art must be solely for the purposes of contemplation or aesthetic appreciation argues that cathedrals or didactic poetry lose artistic merit due to their practicality. That is an absurd conclusion.

And when you consider just how much can be expressed through the medium of dress, it only heightens the absurdity of rejecting it as art.

From the Practical to the Ineffable

Style is what combines the clothes and the body into the accepted contemporary look not of chic, not of ideal perfection, but of natural reality.

–Anne Hollander, Seeing Through Clothes

One of the purposes of art is to express what normal channels of communication can’t. The painter Georgia O’Keeffe said that abstractions in her work were the easiest way for her to communicate what was intangible within herself. “I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way— things I had no words for.”

Likewise, the way you pick an outfit, the colors, patterns, and pieces, don’t say things as straightforwardly as literally words could. Clothing is not a representational art most of the time. But the expression of clothing is not meant to be communicated in words (and hopefully you can forgive the irony of having to write that sentence). Style is an abstraction of feeling, and it loses something when translated into language.

A style can be joyful, dark, intense, or erratic, but those words fail to give the full impression that seeing the outfits would bring. Such impressions often invoke sentiments before they prompt spoken reactions. Where words fail us in the presence of great art, so too do they prove insufficient when witnessing a crowd of well-dressed people. Especially in an age where culture makes few demands on public dress, there is something striking about the man or woman who has made an outfit that brings elements of style, color, and material into harmony on their person, something that the words “beautiful” or “well-dressed” fail to communicate.

But if the choice of outfit a person brings into the world is an artistic act, then what happens when that choice is not intentional?

You’re an Artist, Whether You Like it or Not

Dress is a form of visual art, a creation of images with the visible self as its medium.

–Anne Hollander, Seeing Through Clothes

Even if you believe your clothes aren’t expressing something, they are. Semiotician and philosopher Roland Barthes viewed fashion as a sign system, a structured means of communication where “signs” carry inherent meaning. That the meaning is inherent implies that you cannot “opt out” of this mode of communication. At best, you can decide to ignore what you are communicating. As painter Desmond Morris wrote “It is impossible to wear clothes without transmitting social signals.”

This is why a laissez-faire approach to what you wear equates to acting as a canvas for someone else’s designs. When you are not intentional with your choice of style, you are often buying and wearing whatever happens to come your way. Rather than seek out colors, forms, and materials with which to communicate your message, you passively transmit what others have to say.

When the clothes on offer at the store are there by virtue of advertisers or fashion cycles, wearing them without much thought is letting others use your body for their own purposes. To make matters worse, items like fast fashion are, by their cheapness and transient nature, rarely signaling anything meaningful. At best, they are echoes of better items, inferior copies made to be sold quickly before fashions change.

To accept this reality is the first step in the artistry of style. Style always speaks, but it becomes a genuine artistic expression when it evidences an individual’s intentionality. Whether that intentionality is yours or someone else’s depends on how much of you went into your outfit.

The Artist in the Mirror

The artist’s first creation is himself.

–Harold Rosenberg

If all this sounds exhausting — like a call to master color theory and learn about textiles before you get dressed tomorrow — rest assured it’s nothing of the sort. Rather, it is a call to awareness, to recognize that you too are a participant in art form.

Whether you are paying attention to what you wear, or passively wearing whatever has found its way to your dresser, you are making a profound statement. Your body isn’t just a receiver for the experiences in the world, it is also a place from which you announce your presence. How that presence is conveyed can aspire to beauty or fall short: it can express what words cannot say, or say nothing at all.

When you understand that your style is an art, dressing yourself is more than a perfunctory act. It is a chance to create, to signal something to the world, and populate it with more of what you would like to see there. Even with your newfound appreciation, there will be off days. But there will be far more days of inspiration. Days where you see your body as the canvas it is, waiting for you to work your magic.

Like it or not, you’ll be painting that canvas every day for the rest of your life. Whether it becomes a beautiful work of art or not is up to you.

I remember when I arrived in Europe in late 2015. I saw people in the street, at the market, wearing dirty sneakers. For me, it was shocking — almost scandalous.

For the people complaining about lack of money, I’ll tell them something they probably do not want to read…

–Kevin Ayia

I’ll be honest. When it comes to style, there are very few people I look up to.

Sure, there are the classics: Cary Grant, the Duke of Windsor, Alain Delon, etc. But today, despite the thousands of menswear guys you see online, it’s rare that you find someone who really stops you in your tracks. Hardly anyone dresses in a way that makes you pause to appreciate their style and see what you can learn from it.

Hardly anyone, that is. Because a man named Kevin Ayia is one noteworthy exception.

When I first came across Kevin’s profile on Instagram, I was immediately impressed. His style struck me as an impeccably refined classic style with a modern twist, but little did I know how great of a story their was behind it. Then a few months later, Kevin shared this photo:

It was him in Cameroon, just about a decade ago. I could hardly believe I was looking at the same guy I had been following for months. So I reached out to Kevin to learn his story, and what followed was an incredible account of his journey from parking lots in Cameroon to the pinnacle of classic style. I’m thrilled to share it with you today in interview format.

If you prefer to keep thinking that you need money to dress well, or that you’re being humble by dressing poorly and “not standing out”, then don’t read this interview. But if you want to be inspired to use your clothing to transform your life, then read on.

Kevin’s story will teach you about how to overcome excuses, master style on a tight budget, and use the way you dress to improve the world around you…

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

Evan: Where are you from originally, and how did you first get interested in menswear?

Kevin: I am from Yaoundé, Cameroon. I had a very normal childhood and teenage years there, and after graduating from high school, I moved to Germany to study electronic engineering. I think I’ve always had an interest in menswear in some way; it’s something that has always been with me.

Evan: Tell me about the beginnings of your menswear journey, and the story behind your first suit.

Kevin: Like I said earlier, I think I was always interested in menswear, classic menswear to be precise, but as a young man I needed the click to really dive in. And that click came in the most boring form possible: I needed a suit for my sister’s marriage.

I went to TJ Maxx and got myself a three-piece polyester suit. At this point I had no idea about cut, fabrics, silhouette. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to look as cool as Thomas Shelby or Nucky Thompson.

The sad thing is, I ended up not attending the marriage because of my university schedule. What a pity!

Evan: How did you begin to develop your style on a budget?

Kevin: By learning! Once I started learning about good cut, reading about fabrics, and training my eyes, I started to look at my polyester suit with side eyes.

And what I realized was: quality comes with a cost, and serving burgers at Burger King is not the right career to afford nice clothes.

I needed some workaround, because once the knowledge is there, bad quality cannot be satisfying anymore. So, I start thrifting, online first and physical shops later. It helped me develop my taste and my style on a tiny budget. Mistakes were made of course (wrong size, bad cut), but looking back, my financial situation gave me the opportunity to think and learn about what I was doing instead of using money as shortcut.

For the people complaining about lack of money, I’ll tell them something they probably do not want to read: this is a blessing in disguise especially if you are starting, and not only in menswear. In my opinion this principle applies to any new activities or hobbies.

Not having a ton of money to spend on clothes helps you curate carefully what you are spending on. And because we all make mistakes at first, these mistakes will cost far less than if we already had a lot of money to invest. You’ll rarely find exactly the garment you’re looking for, so you’ll have to settle for similar items, which is a fantastic way to refine your sense of style.

I could talk about this for hours, but I’d like to conclude by adding that the most unique pieces in your wardrobe will also come from this quest.

The only problem is, searching for secondhand clothes is time-consuming, whether online or otherwise. But be patient, and the reward will be worth it.

Evan: How did your interest in menswear shape other aspects of your life?

Kevin: My interest in classic menswear has literally changed the way I interact with society in general and all art forms in particular. The way I listen to music, or watch movies drastically changed. I delve deeply into almost every subject that interests me, because menswear has taught me never to stop at the surface.

Just as fabric is essential to the cut of my pants, I learned how wood and other materials could shape my interior. I realized that the color schemes I used for my outfits could be applied to my living space or my photos, just on a different scale... and vice versa.

Evan: To you, what is dressing well all about?

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Our modern conception of beauty aims at the perfect, the symmetrical and the unblemished. We speak of beauty in a Botticelli, Brahms or mountain-ringed vistas, and while these are indeed beautiful, they don’t tell the full story. What many are missing is the transformative power of the imperfect, the scarred and the broken.

Where most today seek out comfort and positivity in the beautiful, thinkers, theologians, and philosophers have long understood that there is beauty in pain, in wounding, and in the flawed. In fact, without these things, beauty cannot be experienced in its fullness.

This shadow side of the beautiful is neglected for many reasons, but once you understand it, you’ll have a better grasp of what truly makes something beautiful. You’ll also begin to find the transcendent in places few ever think to look…

Our mission here at Letters from the Old World is to share the secrets of Old World elegance, and our approach is two-fold:

1) Every Wednesday, we send a free article exploring the theology and philosophy of why beauty matters, particularly in regards to decor and dress.

2) Every Friday, we send What’s In a Fit, a members-only article exploring practical tips and guidelines for dressing well.

If this resonates with you, then subscribe below to join the aesthetic renaissance.

Subscribe now

Smoothing out the Sublime

For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror which we are barely able to endure, and it amazes us so, because it serenely disdains to destroy us.

–Rainer Maria Rilke

In Saving Beauty, philosopher Byung-Chul Han argues that “smoothness” is the problem with the modern understanding of beauty. For him, smoothness means that which puts up no resistance to the viewer. It is the frictionless, the easy, the unchallenging, “something one just likes.”

The smooth is the signature of the present time. It connects the sculptures of Jeff Koons, iPhones and Brazilian waxing. Why do we today find what is smooth beautiful? Beyond its aesthetic effect, it reflects a general social imperative. It embodies today’s society of positivity. What is smooth does not injure. Nor does it offer any resistance…The smooth object deletes its Against. Any form of negativity is removed.

Negativity as Han uses it means a wound of sorts. It confronts, imposes, or shocks you in a transformative way. It echoes Rilke’s Archaic Torso of Apollo: “There is no place that does not see you. You must change your life.” Negativity is the small terror, the challenge that knocks you over when witnessing the sublime. It encompasses the paradox, the contradiction, the painful.

Unfortunately, beauty today has been separated from the sublime in favor of a beauty of positivity. Han sees the artist Jeff Koons as an embodiment of this new, smooth beauty. Koons is famous for his pop art, which Han describes as having “no disaster, no injury, no ruptures […] Everything appears rounded, polished, smoothed out.” Koons hopes for his work to please his audience and leave them unburdened. You are not wounded by beauty in his work because that would distract from the immediate pleasure Koons wants to share. But wounding is necessary for true beauty, says Han:

The healthy is a form of expression of the smooth. Paradoxically, it radiates something morbid, something lifeless. Without the negativity of death, life solidifies into something dead. […] Negativity is the invigorating force of life. It also forms the essence of beauty. Inherent to beauty is a weakness, a fragility, and a brokenness. To this negativity, beauty owes its power to seduce.

Han argues that to save beauty, you must reunify the beautiful with the sublime. To marry the two together is to return a transcendent element to beauty, to create an uncomfortable friction or distance between the viewer and the viewed. In this space there is challenge, wounding and recognition of imperfection. These confrontations demand you transform into something greater than what you are.

Sacred Scars

There are few examples of beauty married to sublime wounding as overt as the story of Christ’s crucifixion. If you’re living in the West, you may have grown numb to how unusual seeing a crucified man hanging on the wall should be. This was an act of torture and death, subverted and transformed into the ultimate act of love.

There’s a particular devotion to the wounds of Christ that speaks directly to the relationship between the broken and the sublimely beautiful. In 2018 Pope Francis spoke of this devotion, saying that meditating on the wounds through prayer can lead you to a richer understanding of the transcendent:

I may think: “How do I look at the Crucifix? As a work of art, to see if it is beautiful or not? Or do I look within; do I penetrate Jesus’ wounds unto the depths of his heart? Do I look at the mystery of God who was humiliated unto death, like a slave, like a criminal?”. Do not forget this: look to the Crucifix, but look within it. There is a beautiful devotional way of praying one “Our Father” for each of the five wounds. When we pray that “Our Father”, we are trying to enter within, through the wounds of Jesus, inside his very heart. And there we will learn the great wisdom of the mystery of Christ, the great wisdom of the Cross.

Medieval depictions of Christ wounds rendered them as large, red almond shapes on the page. These images confront you in both their yonic symbolism and their depictions of torn flesh, perhaps the most recognizable icon of suffering we have. They are the embodiments of the Christian paradox, that you must lose your life to gain it. Yet these wounds invite us to transform ourselves via suffering.

To focus on the wounds of Christ and see them as worshipful is to reflect on the subversive nature of the Christian story. To take the Cross, an object of death and torture, and make it the ultimate symbol of eternal life and hope. This is a perfect embodiment of the sublime aspect of true beauty, one that terrifies in both form for what it shows and concept because of what it demands of you.

The demanding and transcendent offer one approach to the beauty of brokenness. But there are concepts outside the Western tradition that offer another. The sublime is not always the overwhelming encounter. Sometimes, it’s a quiet acceptance of impermanence, a melancholic, spiritual longing.

Golden Repairs

Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, at the moon only when it is cloudless?

–Kenkō, Essays in Idleness

Japanese aesthetics draws on a separate tradition from Western understanding, but in recent years it’s drawn increasing interest for its novel propositions. One such proposition is the idea of Wabi Sabi, which seeks out and affirms the beauty in the imperfect and the impermanent.

The concept is a marriage of two terms: Wabi, which encompasses austere, empty beauty, adequacy and the moderate; and Sabi, which denotes desolation, aging well, rust and the acquisition of patina, all of which confer a type of beauty. Taken together, Wabi Sabi becomes an aesthetic appreciation of asymmetry, wear, roughness, and austerity.

In Wabi Sabi: The Japanese Art Of Impermanence, author Andrew Juniper writes that Wabi Sabi can be seen in “the small nuances of color, the curve of an opening petal, the crack in a bamboo vase, or the decay of a knot in old timber.” Such objects produce within you a spiritual longing and a serene melancholy. But rather than a self-indulgent self-pitying brought on by the impermanence of things, it is instead “a sadness tinged with longing.”

A wonderful instantiation of Wabi-sabi is the art of Kintsugi, the repair of broken items with the use of gold. Kintsugi emphasizes the damage the repaired object has suffered as a part of its beauty. Rather than hide reminders of impermanence, the practice invites you to see the chaotic lines and chips of the ceramic as additions, not subtractions, to the aesthetic of the object. In doing so, it says something profound about how you should approach aesthetics and life itself. It is not simply a perfection of forms, but an appreciation of the experiences, good or bad, that it undergoes through time.

Whether it’s the wounds of Christ, the cracked vase or Rilke’s sublime terror in the face of Apollo, the meaning is the same; damage can mean destruction, but it can also be a profound source of the beautiful.

The Power of Your Imperfections

Han’s diagnosis remains true to this day. Beauty has been stripped of its fullness, of the sublime and its terrifying wonder. But you can bring its wholeness back by embracing the roughness, the scars and the cracks in your own life. Not as hindrances, but as pathways to a different understanding of beauty. One that loves the aged patina of a leather jacket as much as the chip made in a family heirloom or the scars you earned living your life.

There is of course a time and a place for the perfect form, the Platonic ideal and the pleasantly beautiful. We need more of these in a world that feels sapped of its wonder. But when you learn to love through the wound, you deepen your compassion. When you learn to gild the cracks in the world, you increase your ingenuity. When you seek out the rough instead of the artificially smooth, you reclaim something of the sublime.

When you welcome the fractured as an element of your aesthetics, you’ll find beauty not despite flaws, but because of them.