By VANESSA O'CONNELL
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
Nothing's quite as hit-or-miss as a seersucker
suit. It can make a man look effortlessly sophisticated,
ready for a bourbon at the Kentucky Derby. Or
it can make him look like he should be selling
Eskimo pies.
Seersucker suits are intimidating enough, in
fact, that plenty of men avoid them altogether.
But this spring, the fashion industry's pushing
the look hard: For the first time in years, French
designer Hermes has a version of the American
classic (price: $2,800 and up), while big retailers
from Barneys to Saks Fifth Avenue are varying
the theme, selling trousers without the jacket
and trading the traditional blue-and-white look
for stripes in beige, yellow, lime and orange.
Hoping to avoid the ice-cream man look, we ordered
a selection ranging from a la carte pants to
complete suits. We passed on those yellow-striped
numbers, pitting modern takes on the classic
blue-and-white (pants only, cashmere blends)
against suits from some of the oldest makers
in the business. Then we threw a seersucker party,
inviting fans and skeptics alike and asking our
hip 40-year-old cellist friend, Garo, to model
the designs.
The trousers from New York-based retailer Barneys
were plenty cool -- but unfortunately, ordering
them nearly made us lose ours. To be fair, it
was partially our fault: When our credit-card
address didn't match our phone number, our representatives
turned frosty, and it took us three tries to
finally get our pants. When we finally got these
$240, Italian-made trousers, our tester found
them a bit snug, though the material was soft
and crisp.
Still, our panel thought that for the full effect,
Garo would need a jacket -- and they had high
hopes for the $1,400 suit from Hickey Freeman.
(We ordered all suits in 40 regular, which came
with size 34 trousers). Indeed, this had beautiful
details, including hand-stitched buttonholes.
But something was amiss: Its fabric was thick
and smooth, and when we read the catalog's fine
print, we discovered it was actually a cotton-cashmere
blend. "It's faux seersucker," said
panelist Eric, a doctor.
Traditional seersucker, of course, is 100% cotton,
with a thin, crinkly feel. When the fabric was
introduced -- Brooks Brothers says it brought
it to the U.S. in the 1830s to make frock coats
-- many wealthier wearers rejected the rumpled
look. Still, it was popular in the warmer Southern
states, and during the Depression, seersucker
suits caught on because they were cheap and washable.
The whole wrinkle thing got ironed out by the
1950s, when clothing makers began adding synthetic
fibers. But that hasn't necessarily made it easier
to look great. Because this fabric is soft, it
must hang just right. Even slight alterations
can disturb the vertical lines. Finally, if the
suit's too baggy, you look like you're dressed
in a dish towel.
Suits us: Seersuckers from 1) Jos. A. Bank Clothiers; 2) Hickey Freeman; 3)
Barneys New York; 4) Hunter & Coggins Clothing
Co.; and 5) Brooks Brothers.
That was the case with the suit we ordered
from Jos. A. Bank. It was a bargain at $200 and
the fabric was classic, but the pants' full cut
seemed a bit baggy. The three-button jacket we
chose, meanwhile, had a long cut and stylized
look, with padded shoulders and skinny lapels.
The overall effect? A bit too gangster-flick
slick. "Like Joe Pesci in a suit that fell
off the back of a truck," said Garo.
So we were down to two suits -- from some of
the oldest names in seersucker. Brooks Brothers'
modern version, about $300, felt like the real
thing. It fit Garo -- the jacket laid flat, the
pants fit well -- and would require almost no
alterations. Still, other panelists called the
pant leg too full and boxy, and noticed the lining
was a touch heavier than they expected: "You
might sweat a lot," Eric said.
Our final pick was from Haspel, a brand widely
credited with popularizing these suits. Though
these suits are widely available, we got ours
from the Web site of North Carolina clothier
Hunter & Coggins. Our panelists called it
simple, unaffected, and "devoid of modernisms." The
fabric was light, but with body and texture.
The two-button jacket had the best fit, and its
trim-cut pants looked good not only on Garo,
but on Eric, a taller and leaner panelist.
The only problem: The suit arrived with a discolored
shoulder. When we called the store, proprietor
Jim Hunter offered to pay for dry-cleaning --
we passed -- and then offered to send us a second
one. The new model was perfect, both crisp and
crinkled at the same time. "Now, this is
what seersucker is supposed to be," said
Eric. It's our Best Overall -- and, at $275,
our Best Value.
Hunter & Coggins
Clothing Co.
Haspel seersucker suit, $275
800-343-9396
www.hunterandcoggins.com
Quality: Best Overall, Best
Value. Traditional, 100% cotton suit with good
body, pucker -- and the right size stripes. Narrow,
double-pleat pants. Lined jackets, size short
to extra long.
Shipping Cost/Time: We paid
$30 for next-day shipping, and ours arrived in
a couple of days.
Return Policy: Return, unworn,
within a week of receipt. Store pays return shipping.
Phone/Web Experience: This
Asheville, N.C., store's modest site didn't accept
our AmEx card. But staff was courteous, and the
owner even included handwritten thank-you notes.
Comments: A warning: Hunter & Coggins
doesn't have a huge inventory but offered to
order any size we wanted from the distributor.
Also comes in tan-and-white.
>> Shop online now for Haspel Suits
