All My Plaids Are Madras

When I began my career in the fashion industry three whole weeks ago, only if pressed would I admit my Ivy League credentials, fearing that in this case at least, a brand name diploma was trés démodé. Little did I realize that — once again — I was merely ahead of the trend.
Swap out your skinny jeans for some Nantucket red critter pants: "Ivy League" has officially unseated "preppy" from its wicker throne (and yes, in the fashion world these phrases refer to completely different styles). The cognoscente have discussed the growing movement all summer, variously ascribing it to recession-induced nostalgia or the power of Mad Men and Gossip Girl stylists. Evidence piles up: L.L. Bean plans one of those "new! classics! with! a! [hyperventilate] twist!" lines, designed by a dude who made his mark interpreting Mystic Seaport through screen-print. Some delusional designer dreamed up his own prep school just so it could have a uniform; his "Caulfield Prep" was deemed phony if well-cut. And then there's always this douchebaggery.

Rumblings crescendo'd to a climax this month when that most ivy-covered of Ivies announced it was extending its brand name beyond the academic world and into the sartorial.

Haaaaahvaaaaaaaahd shall launch a clothing line. If possible, please contain your excitement.

“Harvard Yard” sprung from a 10-year licensing deal the university made with Wearwolf Group, a clothing manufacturer whose name makes this all sound like a euphemism for “selling our souls to the devil so we can fund our (potentially unsustainable) financial aid.” And much like admissions to Harvard itself, the first collections will be strictly menswear, with styles for women and select minorities to eventually follow.
These pictures fail to do the details justice: the crucial “Harvard Yard” label inside the collars, the crimson threading on the buttonholes. It is assumed that the wearer will already have fine leather accessories and a misguided sense of entitlement. And all of it could be yours for between $165 and $496 — mere pennies compared to actual enrollment at Harvard, and without all that silly work!

Yves Saint Laurent famously said, “Fashion fades; style is eternal.” Go Wikipedia “Harvard Style,” and you get a citation system and a sex act. I rest my case.

I realize there may be some Crimson sympathizers out there who would challenge another Ivy to do better. Fair enough. Let’s go down the list:

• Brown: Although not really an Ivy, sells organic fair-trade hemp t-shirts left blank for free expression without fear of failure.
• Columbia: Takes over local stores to the dismay of the West Harlem community, and gentrifies them into an American Apparel stocked only with black v-necks, leggings and ennui.
• Cornell: Releases the next “Ivy line” in a desperate bid to emulate Harvard and seem “with it.” Barely musters Canal-Street quality but looks fine next to Miley Cyrrus’ shit at Wal-Mart.
• Penn: Wharton vetoes on grounds that ROI wouldn’t be worth dilution of the university’s name.
• Princeton: Briefly ponders swallowing pride long enough to release a limited-edition tie with J. Press, but only if the economy gets a lot worse.
  
• Yale: While a clothing line would go along with “that whole Yale thing,” as Patrick Bateman so eloquently put it, insecurity over Eli clothes never beating Harvard’s stymies any initiative.

And then there’s Dartmouth.

We don’t like to brag, but the masses have been trying to buy into our mystique for decades:

Okay, you might say, so your college inspired the movie that would come to provide a template for cinematic comedy for the rest of the century, so what? Show me some real Dartmouth flair style.

Fair enough.

Harvard Yard's creative director told Women’s Wear Daily (sub. req'd; this is some serious shit) that his designers drew from "photos of students lounging in Harvard Yard in the sixties." I'm going to assume he’s referring to Take Ivy, a 1960s monograph from Japanese photographer Teruyoshi Hyashida. He spent 1965 traveling up and down the East Coast, snapping away on Ivy campuses in order to capture that certain je ne sais quoi the Ivy League style has (and apparently the Japanese really, really want). Currently out of print, copies of the book can fetch as much as $1,500 on eBay.

HY may have drawn inspiration for Harvard’s line from the book, but Hanover’s campus is its dominant trendsetter:
I myself chalk this up to the sheer force exerted by our combination of kickass, frattiness and rugged (veering into crunchy?) good looks. Oh, and that the womynz hadn’t yet infiltrated this great bastion of white manly privilege. After all, this was many years ago:

HOLY CARD CATALOGS, BATMAN!

Forgetting the Stone Age technology, was it really all that different back then? Could there still a place for Ivy fashion — the 2/3 sacque suits and knit ties of bygone years? Can't we say "Goodbye, Jon Hamm," and openly, tightly and passionately embrace Don Draper? I mean, Dartmouth hasn't changed all that much if you really think about it.

Sweet dudes predominate both then and now. Clearly.
And Dartmouth was totally progressive. Like, girls were allowed on campus even if they were the gender too weak to matriculate:
As long as they were Playboy Bunnies.
On-campus food posed dangers then, as now; one can always find comfort in the grill line.
There always has been, and always will be, This Guy.
The Green is still the primary spot to pick up some face time (now with fewer varsity jackets).
And, obviously, ankle bones never actually go out of style.
There's no real reason not to hoist up your khakis and wear that Ivy-educated heart on your sleeve.
Okay sure, the shorts were a little tighter:
So maybe people smoked more.
And Zete hadn't been de-recognized for that whole date rape newsletter thing yet. 'Twas a simpler time:
Oh, and this. This might've changed:
Details. Mere details.

Solid rule of thumb: If you wouldn't stick it on the rear window of your car, don't wear it on your shirt.
For further reading, definitely check out A Continuous Lean. It's among the many menswear*-focused blogs out there, and where I got the scans from Take Ivy (rather than, say, shelling out two grand for a book). This post was also brought to you by the letters A and my muse of choice this evening, Blue Moon. If I wanted to go for topical authenticity, I would have gone with Keystone, but instead I went for good taste. As usual.

*I've recently become fascinated by the world of menswear, a magical land where sizes actually correspond to measurements instead of self-esteem issues. It just blows my delicate feminine mind.