As everyone knows, male fashion lawyers tend to be hunks. I was a bit late getting the memo, but on the insistence by my German doctor, I finally started exercising, and being German myself, I of course overdid it, to the point that my shirt maker (Turnbull & Asser) had to adjust my pattern and my tailor (Henry Poole) is on notice that it will need do the same. Because both usually expect rounding middles by the time customers reach my point in life, that made me feel quite good. But what I next sought to do in the name of fashion was of no concern to either of them.
It would be hard not to notice that the trend is for less body hair on men. When I was growing up, what was said about something that toughened you as a man (such as strong drink) was, “That will put a little hair on your chest.” Nature dutifully made me quite fashionable in that regard, but since that time, things have regrettably slid the other way. Beefy young men in fashion advertising display pectorals and abdominals as furless as a those of a baby. One recent print ad showed a pack of lovely women measuring every inch of a young man wearing only his undershorts and showing not a blade of hair below his perfectly formed cranium.
Would that real life were as equally correctable in Photoshop. Instead, off went this hirsute attorney in search of a more practical solution, which is how I ended up at Olga’s laser emporium. A slave to tradition, I decided to keep the hair on my chest, but I agreed to sacrifice all between the sternum and what Olga told me was my “bikini line.” She first shaved my abdomen, thereby defoliating that previously forested tract that no one had seen since I put on my bar mitzvah suit. Then she set her laser to work, and after a twelve-minute ordeal in which I felt like the target at a flame-thrower practice range, I stood up and had a look.
To my surprise, what had lay hidden under that vanquished mat of virility was, after daily workouts, a surprisingly pleasing set of washboard abs—not quite a six-pack, but something like a four-pack on its way toward picking up the two missing cans. There you go, I thought: a fashionable belly at last. The problem is that there are not that many venues in which a fashion lawyer gets to show how fashionably toned he has become. Going shirtless in the firm’s boardroom seemed not quite in keeping with our mission. I suppose I could arrive at a fashion show with my shirt as open as Keith Richards’, but that style just does not speak to me. I do not even swim topless anymore but wear a rash guard (swim shirt) with an SPF of 50. So I have done what women have done for millennia: I have suffered for beauty—beauty that must, in a guy’s case, remain both skin deep and out of view.
At least my doctor is pleased. As I lay on the examination table, she kneaded and pounded my abdomen as though hoping to strike oil and said, “Very tight. There are two possible explanations. Either you are finally exercising as I told you to do—or you have serious liver damage.”
In fashion, nothing worthwhile comes easy.
Credit: Alan Behr
In the service of consumer awareness, I have helped clients with event promotions ranging from setting up rub-down booths for aching feet at half marathons to participating in the closing off of Times Square for New Year’s Eve and the engagement of major talent to entertain the revelers. I was particularly amused, however, when Henry Poole & Co, the tailor shop that founded London’s Savile Row (back in 1846), alerted me to the closure of the Row for its one-day transformation into a pasture eighty meters long, populated by sixty squishy sheep and twenty-five anything-but-squishy male models, each of the latter in a bespoke outfit by one of the twenty-five participating tailors. For Savile Row Sheep Day (yes, big promotions need big names) on October 5 of this year, Henry Poole showed, on one of those big men, a made-for-the occasion three-piece suit made of a blue-gray 11-12 ounce Prince of Wales wool and cashmere blend. The sheep came as they were.
That is not the first time Savile Row has been disrupted for a special promotional event. As documented in the film Let It Be, on January 30, 1969, The Beatles gave their last public performance from the headquarters of their company at 3 Savile Row, creating a commotion that brought in the police and became part of the history of popular music.
Getting the famously phlegmatic London bobbies stirred up for the benefit of posterity was likely integral to the thinking behind The Beatles’ rooftop concert, but when fashion companies do big promotions—whether to let Shaun the Sheep and friends graze on a city street or to rent historic venues for fashion shows—they do not want legal troubles. Along with all the usual contractual complexities with vendors, models, transportation providers, venues and more, for big promotions, there typically are municipal permits, special insurance problems (Just what is the premium for coverage against damage by rampaging ruminants?), and often import/export and duty considerations, to name only a few of the additional legal concerns.
Big events are often borne of creativity at marketing and public relations companies and departments; but it is a good idea to bring in the lawyers well before a fashion company commits to move forward with such an event. Marketers are both inventive and parental, quickly falling in love with their creations, with the result that legal considerations can be put off to the last minute. That is why promotional lawyers are used to providing services in a rush. Under those conditions, even their best efforts may not be enough to prevent an exciting opportunity from becoming an expensive mistake due to missed deadlines for permits, hurried and failed attempts at gaining necessary consents and much more (and much worse). The simple rule of thumb is this: when you think big in a promotion, think legal. Before the big idea is a go, go to the lawyers and ask if it is possible and what it likely will cost to make it happen.
As for those sheep on Savile Row: someone did it all just right that day in October. The promotion went off as planned, the cops stayed away, everyone had a good time, and Henry Poole and the rest of the Row’s tailors got their message across, which was, “Gentlemen: wear wool and look smart.” We have to assume that, somewhere in London that night, an advertising and promotions lawyer slept soundly. He or she certainly deserved to.
Credit: Alan Behr
Photo Credit: Henry Poole & Co