The London Lounge

Like beauty or intelligence, style cannot be faked: it is there or it is not. Those who try to mimic its appearance (in absence of the substance) invariably end up in ridicule. It cannot be taught, because it is eminently subjective: if it is genuine, it is unique (and that is the only thing all stylish people have in common). It cannot be transplanted, either, because – like a spinal cord – it is organically linked with millions of connections to everything that a person is.
However, it can inspire. Unlike imitation (which is a mechanical reproduction of the original), inspiration involves the spirit, which is seduced by an idea, an image, a perception that stimulates it, much the way an electrical current generates magnetism. Style is, in a way, the capacity to generate (and also detect) that magnetism, to transmute the currents that strike our senses in creative energy. And – while some inborn disposition must be there for a grain of sand to turn into a (unique) pearl – I believe that can be trained, practised, exercised, perfected. Genuine style is a natural consequence of a state of the spirit, which alchemizes, transposes everything it encounters into a unique key and reflects it back into the world, choosing its own means and forms.
Borrowed forms and seeking originality for its own sake are the two sides of the same false coin. Any aspiration to style involves liberating and developing the spirit which, as it shapes its vision, activates that extra sense that points its own North and aligns everything – from clothes to books – accordingly.
Between “to be” and “not to be” lie the quicksands of “to appear” and the magic bridge of “to become”.

Thank you, Costi. An inspiring piece on how to find style.

However, I think imitation can play an important part in style. Imitation, reminding others about something they have experienced, may be done in a beautiful or elegant way. Just one (maybe too famous) example:



Clearly, mechanical imitation is bad style (and we see a lot of that in Today's fashion world), but I cannot help thinking that one of the hallmarks of great style is ingenouse imitation, a sort of reflexive use of the canon of rules, pictures and forms from the past.

What happens, if we do not pay a tribute to the past? We will become incomprehensible. We are bounded by history, in aesthetic matters as well.

I admit I have never been terribly enthusiastic about this kind of artistry (art? – I am no specialist, so perhaps I should refrain from labelling), but I preferred the initial Marilyn that you posted because I liked the subject
Proust regards art as the only way we can see the world through somebody else’s eyes. But for art, there would only be one “objective” world. It is this personal vision that, I agree, is valuable in art. This is why I think imitation is hardly art (and not style). However, I agree imitation may be used artistically, if it is a means to an end, rather than a purpose in itself.
The thing with style being so individual is very nicely put by Radu Lupu (who speaks, of course, about playing the piano): each person tells a story differently; if the story is not told in a compelling and convincing manner, it is worthless. Proust goes further saying that we don’t need new landscapes, but new eyes. We may have heard Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9 a hundred times before and still be stunned by the beauty of a new intepretation.
Perhaps dress is more similar in nature to music than to visual arts: they both exist for a limited amount of time: music – while it is played; dress – while the clothes are on. They are often repeated, too – the same concert, the same suit; but there are as many different ways of wearing a gray suit as there are ways of interpreting a partita for violin – from a screeching horror to pure grace. We can often recognize the individual manner of a painter, of a composer, of a pianist or conductor, no matter if the subject is common or all new. However, even the same person ideally does it a little differently every time – in fact the worst kind of plagiarism (another deplorable instance of imitation) is self-plagiarism, and it is often the toughest to get rid of (says Proust). Style may be a recognizable “red thread” in all that a person does, but style is not formulaic and is not static – in fact one of the marks of true style is, in my view, change (I avoid “evolution”, but it is often appropriate): if nothing changes substantially over a decade in someone’s manner, it is much like taking a photograph negative and replacing the colours every now and then for a “change”

I cannot disagree with the way you describe style, or better, how true style really should be. The music analogy is well put. However, what I question is the possibility of social flying, the idea of a pure personal touch that makes an expression complete. The pure personal touch may be the key to true style but it's very difficult to apply. Most often we borrow from others (or ourselves, as you mention), even when we improvise. I think that most often so-called personal style is a certain blend of already seen styles rather than one's very own style, which is not bad. As I said, ingenouse imitation may be an art. Since you didn't like my Warhol , I've found some other stuff that may illustrate my point better (Picasso doing Valázquez):

Nice choice! A pastiche (a parody, too) is one of those instances in which imitation serves a purpose and is voluntary rather than the consequence of a scarce imagination. It is a meaningful imitation either in spirit or in execution, but never in both.
I very much agree that what we call personal style is a mix of pieces of already existing reality (creating out of nothing remains, for the time being, the prerogative of God) with new material, or just a new way of assembling old stuff, but that is what I called inspiration, where you can both recognize the references AND the fact that they were interpreted, modified, reevaluated in a new light, which makes the vision original. Inspiration shows that the author thought about what he was doing, that he understood and assimilated the syntax (rather than just play with it) and was able to express his own ideas using the same language without distorting or maiming it (if imitation is Scylla, originality at any cost is Charybdis and only those steady enough to sail right between and past them have access to the Ocean of Style). But you need to have something to say to the world, which you may express in words, notes, colours and shapes, gestures or movements, dress or cooking; if you do, you cannot imitate, because you need to find your own expression, whose means may well be rooted in the past. This is what makes the difference between "to be" (with all the turmoil of the quest) and "not to be" (with its quiet acceptance of unprocessed cliches).

One of the points of Oscar Wilde’s thesis in “The Decay of Lying” (in support of “art of art’s sake”), is that Nature imitates Art more than Art imitates Nature. It may sound like a typical Wildian paradox, but I interpret it in the sense that our perception of reality is heavily influenced by our cultural heritage. “No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did, he would cease to be an artist.” – goes on Wilde in his dialogue-essay. In other words, we see what we know. The broader the horizon, the less we are likely to imitate, but rather take inspiration and rework the raw material.
The quest for Style may start out as imitation, but it must soon find its own way, lest it should turn from “the sincerest form of flattery” into “the sincerest form of insult”, as Wilde jokefully paraphrases Colton’s well-known aphorism.

Costi wrote:we see what we know

I like that We may also talk about style as will and representation. Then true style would depend on imagination and the power to overcome and shape the immense production of forms and cliches that are forced upon us.

Gruto wrote:

Costi wrote:we see what we know

I like that

You saw that because you knew

A slight twist on this is that we see what we expect to see and don't see what we don't expect, even if it is right infront of us - as Marcelo mentioned recently, Bertie Wooster got away with the cow-creamer because it was mounted as a mascot on the bonnet of his car. Much the same principles govern the effectiveness of prestigitation. However, extreme incongruity is bound to strike a dissonant chord and be instantly detected: in music, writing, dress and many other things.
NJS

Costi, your original post is an enticing exploration of the magical thing we call Style, not to be confused with the passing trends of fashion, the entanglement of rules, and the various and assorted ways men can wear their clothes that we refer to as style. As a matter of fact the subject of Style, we are trying to address in this section of the LL, has nothing to do with clothes, or fashion, or fabrics and certainly nothing to do with rules.

We seem to always chase tails in these discussions because we are talking about two very different things and there is a default reaction on the part of some to think about style when the subject is Style. These days there are five thousand blogs and hugely populated forums where one can talk about rules, dress of the past, three button coats, tailoring, RTW, Tom Ford and Rubinacci; and be barraged by an array of discrete infomercials on each and every topic. Let’s have a chaste talk about Style… for a change.

A man who is fortunate enough to possess Style has it in jeans and a torn T-shirt, in a 3pc suit, in his dead Uncle’s bathrobe and stark naked. Is this clear? And he is equally Style abundant in each of these kinds of dress despite himself and for his entire life.

A man who is fortunate enough to possess Style hasn’t a clue why he has it or where it came from…and neither do we. But we are curious sorts and so we would like to imagine how the bastard got a dose of it. So we try to exchange notes here to understand what it is that makes him so magnetic, charming and infuriatingly seductive, when we are entirely less so.

You know there is a wild and unproven theory, that all men actually possess Style but maybe because they are so hypnotized by niggling and obsessive thoughts that coo from every angle of the style birdcage, they never seem to be able to make it happen.

Let’s learn to let Style happen to us.

Marlon Brando who appeared on film in all of the attire mentioned above did not become BRANDO by reading about dressing rules or imitating anyone. And I am absolutely sure that if you asked him how in the hell he became Brando, he would have cocked his head in his magnetic, charming, and infuriatingly seductive way and said, “Beats me.”

Brando did not have Style because he was one of the most successful actor’s of his time. Brando was one of the most successful actor’s of his time, because he had Style. Replace Brando with names like Cooper, Grant, Astaire, Sinatra and you have exactly the same equation.

So let’s reread Costi’s initial post and start learning about Style.

I don’t know about you guys, but I want as much Style as I can get. And I want it now!

Cheers

Michael Alden

I think we often confuse style with personality or character. Brando was so much more than style like any great actor. Style is superficial by nature. That's why we can admire a man like the DoW, because we look for style, not character or personality.

/Gruto

Gruto

The Structure of Style forum was created to explore a phenomenon occurring in some very special men. Balzac called it “elegance” and in these pages we have learned the mysterious power is a composition of many attributes (presence, magnetism, chic, sexual attractiveness, confidence, [iki] etc) and for lack of a better word for what is largely known as a je ne sais quoi we have chosen randomly to call it Style. In this regards, personality and character are a part of Style but what is it about a personality or character that makes them so special, imbued with the power that intrigued Balzac and others throughout history?

Windsor is a poor example because he did not possess the power of Style and was in few ways admirable. He was the king of one of the richest and most powerful nations in history, had unlimited time and resources and had in his service arguably the very best tailors and cloth makers in the world. He also had an elevated level of interest in clothes. If you put that all together, I suppose, one would be surprised if he didn’t produce a gaggle of nice suits that influenced fashion. Frankly speaking, I have always admired the work of the tailors and cloth makers more than Windsor the man; and they must receive as much credit (or discredit depending on your tastes) for the Windsor effect on fashion because they must have had a good deal of input into the design and realization of the clothes. But clothes is not the subject we are addressing here.

Cheers

Michael

On character and "style". I haven't exactly decided if this is how I want to think of it. It's just musings, bear that in mind

Everybody has character. Whether or not this character is viewed as "stylish" depends on the viewer and as such there is no such thing as universal "style". However, when you look at a large data group, you'll see that there are patterns, of course, meaning that there's likely to be a great majority with a similar view on what constitutes a "stylish" character. What's behind these patterns is something of a discussion, and I'm sure both sociologist, biologists and so on will have their say.

It could be considered, however, that there might such a thing as successful "styling", when an individual manages to have coherence between his inner and outer self, that is, when he manages to channel his character, without censoring, into his dress, speak etc. Again, whether or not a successful "styling" is considered "stylish" is up to the viewer, however, a successful "styling" is far more likely to be considered "stylish" than an unsuccessful one.

Based on the concepts above, one could consider two characters: the duke and Agnelli. In both cases, I find the "styling" successful. The duke was mellow and plain to view. He was, however, sympathetic and quite ahead of his time: it seems that he was genuinely interested in the interests of his people, he gave up his throne to marry the woman he loved etc. His character didn't ooze with power, sex, sharp intellect etc. and he didn't try to emulate any of this through his dress. He was a quirky royal and he dressed like one. Agnelli was handsome and charismatic. It seems that he was intelligent, shrewd even, full of humour, confident and, in a way, down to earth in spite of his power and wealth. He had the swagger, as they say, and he dressed accordingly. Now, which of the two personae sketched here (in a completely subjective manner) does one prefer? If you preferred the duke's persona, you'd think he was the more stylish and likewise with Agnelli.

Wouldn't you?

Groot, I like your thoughts about coherence between inner and outer self. However, I don't think we would do Agnelli and the DoW any favour, if we dig in to what's behind the mask, what characters or personalities they were.

Michael, I have just read the introduction again, and I realize that I have misunderstood our starting point. Our subject seems to be "the thing beyond the social world that fuels expression". If that is correct, it's a difficult one, I think. We are addressing die Urkraft or the Will to Power. Even Freud and Nietzsche had trouble to explain what was going on

Gruto wrote:However, I don't think we would do Agnelli and the DoW any favour, if we dig in to what's behind the mask, what characters or personalities they were.

A valid point. I based my assumptions on what can be read and viewed and they were just intended as illustrative to my point. Whether we'd do them a favour or not by attempting to establish their character, well, I didn't know any of them; I wouldn't know