Take That perform on The X Factor final. Photograph: Ken McKay/TalkbackThames/Rex Features
The extraordinary
Take That revival has taken everyone by surprise. Five middle-aged men, who don't play instruments, have generated the fastest-selling tour in UK history and the fastest-selling album (Progress) of the century and they've been almost omnipresent on TV, appearing on the finals of both
Strictly Come Dancing and
The X Factor. But one aspect of their appeal has passed without much comment: the flattering cut of their trousers.
Take That have proved that it is possible for men beyond the first flush of youth (Robbie Williams is the youngest of the group at 36, Howard Donald the oldest at 42) to dress fashionably without looking silly. Successfully reforming a teen group with a maturing audience, making them appear age-appropriate, relevant and pointedly unembarrassing, is one of the holy grails of pop culture. It's hard enough writing a new hit and getting the sound just right. Getting the strides just-so is even harder.
And winter proved to be absolutely perfect timing for the Take That reunion. The fact that the weather turned bitterly cold just as the band announced their tour dates meant that coats, scarves, hats, beards and boots featured in every photo and press conference.
Forget the stirring, anthemic chorus of
The Flood and Robbie's funny marching-on-the-spot dance – the management's real masterstroke was to market Take That as a boys-to-men band who wear heavy, double-breasted Lanvin coats, leather-soled All Saints boots, who aren't frightened of polka dots and bum-freezer jackets. Males who can confidently mix Top Man with Mad Men. These are the clothes of an older and more thoughtful, craggy-faced Take That, who have loved and lost and cried and been to rehab and steadfastly refuse to dance in unison any more.
Summer isn't flattering for men in their 40s. It's callous and exposing. Sunlight streams through thinning hair. Harsh shadows act as a cruel grout in crow's feet. Clothes are flimsy and perfunctory. Worst of all, if you happen to be Jason Orange, 40, you simply can't look wistful and vulnerable in clam-digger shorts and a Superdry polo shirt. Winter – which is all about layering, camouflage, buttoning up and introspective insulation – is much more forgiving.
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Take That – as they used to look.
Photograph: Paul Rider/Retna UK |
Take That's stylist, Luke Day, arguably the most influential figure in menswear right now – he's
fashion director at GQ Style – knows this well. "Since I've been working with the group, I don't think we've ever done anything that's involved sunshine," he says. "Winter is just better for older guys. And generally speaking, I don't think colours work too well on men either. Dark tones make them seem more serious and an older guy always looks good in a big coat, fur and scarves."
Working closely with Mark Owen, the band's most forthright fashionista, Day has developed the Take That Mk III look: Westfield Ginsberg meets millionaire vagabond meets Shoreditch dad, with subtle elements of 70s-era David Essex and that nice, floppy-haired,
corduroy chap off BBC1's Flog It. And in doing so he has not only provided the perfect day-into-night, on-and-off stage capsule wardrobe for the band but also a series of workable reference points for the older, still fashionable civilian male. It's an easy rather than edgy look, which looks good at a gastropub Sunday lunch and won't embarrass the kids on the school run.
The TT3 look has its roots in 1995. Just before the band's first breakup, with Robbie still clinging on, they released what many critics consider to be their finest four minutes. Back For Good was a quantum leap towards musical maturity; it was the band's Careless Whisper, their Better the Devil You Know. It was also their biggest overcoat record so far. Most significantly,
it was evidently freezing and absolutely chucking it down in the accompanying video. "They looked like a bunch of adorable wet labradors, didn't they?" says Day.
There would be a few unfortunate hiccups with tailcoats along the way, but here was a band who would never put on studded leather gilets again. Fast-forward 15 years and the band have settled into their various styles with an ease and comfort that suggests that the next world tour might be conducted from rocking chairs. The image of Owen taking a therapeutic walk across a tidal causeway as part of his recent rehab in their recent documentary,
Look Back, Don't Stare, wearing a billowing, knee-length cardigan, is the band's most poignant fashion moment so far.
Does the modern pop group always have a stylist present these days? "Honestly, a lot of the time we'll wing it, stylistically speaking," insists Luke Day. "One of Mark's really big roles in the band is a sort of second stylist and he takes a lot of interest in his clothes," says Day. "Often he'll get out of the car wearing an outfit and then wear exactly the same thing on stage. We keep it cool and stay away from anything too theatrical."
The overly cuddly, fussy, circus-y clobber of the Take That Come To Town TV special was, says Day "a mistake".
"I don't have a problem with a boy band becoming men," says Gary Kemp, guitarist of the
recently-reformed Spandau Ballet. "But I think as an older guy, you do have to always be aware that being in a band is, essentially, quite a childish thing to be doing."
When they announced their first tour last year since their 1990 split, Kemp's band, all in their mid-40s, thought hard about their clothes. "We knew that you have to look like a gang but you can't all wear the same thing . . . or look too disparate. There has to be some sense of dressing up otherwise you'll look like roadies."
Wisely, Spandau Ballet didn't opt for kilts. "You have to be age-appropriate and period-appropriate. Nodding to contemporary fashion but not looking like idiots. You can't wear what you used to back in your heyday. You have to move on. That said, because we are older there is always a danger of looking slightly conservative. It's quite a tricky balance."
Making Take That look good, says Day, isn't hard, now that they're happy with their constantly evolving wardrobes. He does most of their shopping, knows what they like and what will suit them. "They are all slim with pretty decent figures. Clothes tend to sit well on them."
Williams keeps a wooden last at
Lobb of St James's, bespoke cobbler to the royal fam
ily. Gary Barlow is probably the most conservative while Owen likes Lanvin, Dries Van Noten and is "partial to Gucci and Margiela". The band tend to agree that they are all a bit too old for drainpipes these days, so Donald is happy to wear cropped, carrot shaped strides from
Top Man. Or
John Vavartos, depending on his mood.
And those wintry, all-enveloping, broodingly thought-provoking scarves? "Yes, well," says Day, sounding peeved. "One Direction started nicking the scarf thing, so we had to ease off on those."
How to get the middle-aged Take That look
• Simple palette of black, grey, navy blue. Dark tone on dark tone.
• White T-shirts are acceptable for contrast and accenting, but no happy reds or sunny yellows.
• No logos.
• Lots of layers.
• Knitwear in thin, figure-hugging merino wool.
• Woolly hats pulled low over ears.
• Sturdy, lace-up workwear-inspired boots.
• Sensible, slightly boyish side-parted haircuts.
• Facial hair (but no Craig David/Ali G topiary).
• Labels: All Saints, Top Man, Martin Margiela, Burberry, Gucci, Lanvin, Spencer Hart, John Varvatos.
• Blazers should be short bumfreezers, such as those by American tailor Thom Browne (long jackets are ageing).
• Trousers can be cropped but not too tight (drainpipes look desperate on older men).
• No leather – it looks tragic on over-40s.
Credit: Data and Photo from
www.guardian.co.uk (Simon Mills Article, 21st Dec 2010)
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