A Sharp Dressed Man

In a frame on the wall of my office along with other stuff from my life plus over two dozen reproductions of film posters in foreign languages— e.g. Det Er Herligt At Leve (have Google translate it!) —hangs the sheet of paper with the Peter Imber Dress Code.

It's easy to explain why it's there and why it was compiled by my favorite colleague at ABC News. Brian Rooney felt I needed it and he was right.

If clothes make the man, then I have never made it. Not that there wasn't the opportunity. My father was a retailer— women’s ready-to-wear. My mother was thus fashionable and fashion fortunate with a husband in the “schmatta” business.

Both my parents always dressed well and from the beginning they tried to impress upon me their sense of style. Our home movies show a toddler in a swank camel hair coat. I puked all over it on my first road trip. I was told I had been demanding only hamburgers for every meal including breakfast. It did perhaps foreshadow my relationship with clothes as well as food for most of my life.

During college in the 60's— and certainly at my all men’s alma mater —nobody seemed to care about what they wore and afterward I lived on a kibbutz for seven years where even white collar job holders often wore blue collar work clothing— blue shirts, blue pants and black work boots. My entire kibbutz wardrobe could have fit in a shopping bag.

During my quarter century in television news I was based in Los Angeles where Levi’s and sports shirts were almost de rigueur at the office and passable everywhere outside of it. I happily followed sans suit so to speak. Costco became my outfitter and just how much so was apparent one day in a phone call to a Costco executive I wanted to arrange an interview with. When asked, I confessed to him that I was one of his customers.

He: “How many things are you wearing right now that you bought from us?”

Me: “Hey, my pants, my underwear, my socks, my watch… maybe my shirt.”

Yes, I was a walking advertisement for “big-box” apparel.

Brian Rooney was my polar opposite when it came to clothes. Of course he was also an on camera correspondent and I was an off camera producer so how he looked really mattered but how I looked eventually mattered to him, too.

It actually had begun with shoes after I was diagnosed with a foot injury called plantar fasciitis. The orthopedist’s office had another description for it— “Topsiders disease” —named for the deck shoes I had been wearing for years that had no arch and as a result had apparently inflamed my own.

“You'll never regret buying good shoes,” Rooney advised me at the time.

A few days later he came into my office and threw a piece of paper in front of me with a more comprehensive set of guidelines. Its title was “Peter Imber Dress Code” and although it didn’t instantly change my life, it did immediately change my footwear buying habits. I purchased my first $200 pair of shoes. They were for golf and at the time the most comfortable shoes I had ever owned.

I left Costco behind in 2010 when Jo and I moved to Maine. But when one haberdashery door closed—there wasn’t a Costco store here until last year— another one opened. In our state it’s abundantly clear which one. The Maine state tree is the pine. The state's clothes tree is L.L. Bean and I was all in— free shipping, and at the time a generous return/replace policy, plus a flagship store open 24/7. What was not to like?

L.L. Bean had it all— shirts, pants, sweaters… But was I again falling into my previous one store fits all mode? So, at Jo's urging I branched out. I bought a pair of dress khakis from Orvis which I even dry-clean. I have a beautiful shirt and tie from Brooks Brothers and three handsome sweaters I purchased at Bloomingdale’s.

As for shoes, I buy Ecco and Naot and I was an early word of mouth influencer for Hoka. I value comfort and quality and pay for it. And I own not one but two parkas from The North Face. Wearing the same parka six months of the year up here gets old even for me. Have I finally evolved as someone with a sense of or at least an aspiration for style?

Hmm... I guess I'm not all the way there yet. Jo has pointed out that I have an abundance; no make that a preponderance of blue denim shirts hanging in my closet. So, there's work left to be done and before sitting down here at my computer, I realized my clothing choices might have narrowed once again and I might have regressed.

As I write this I am wearing what might be called the “Full Carhartt”— sweatshirt, jeans, socks… And yes, it’s Mid-April in Maine and the temperature is in the 30s. It snowed a bit yesterday. I'm quite comfortable.