The new man

The New Man. As he was drawn by Douglas in Spring 1933.

This magazine was produced by The Rego Clothiers Ltd. ‘The New man – take a look at him, note his smart, clean-cut lines, the faultless fitting of his every garment, the good taste displayed, and his air of easy confidence. He is a Rego customer and we are proud of him.’

Rego is a company name that hasn’t really gone down in history, as far as I am aware. It’s a shame, that. Because this is very much the working man’s answer to Austin Reed and Simpson of Piccadilly, both of which had an in-house publication schedule of booklets and magazines. In fact Austin Reed had a very smart in-house magazine called Modern Man running in 1933, coincidence? Probably Not.

Rego were listed as tailors back in 1921 when they had a retail branch and production premises in the East End. I found an interesting snippet about a Rego workers strike (including a song!) in 1928, when the company moved production from Bethnal Green Road to Edmonton. By 1933 and our be-suited gent here, Rego had 86 branches in ‘London & provinces’. And Head Offices in Edmonton, indeed. Pretty big stuff. Not as big as Burton’s but not small, either.

So, the tone of this magazine is very Austin Reed-y too. The illustrations like a poor mans version of theirs. Douglas did these, Fougasse did theirs. And the copy is slightly witty and knowing in that Austin Reed manner, too. Amongst other articles of interest here you could read ‘Why girls detest me’ by Maurice Lane-Norcott. Because, we read: ‘The work of being incorrigibly clothes-conscious takes ones attention off women completely.’ Or you could follow a conversation between ‘Mr Warp & Mr Weft’ as ‘there is no reason why you should not, yourself, know something useful about cloth.’

And finally, you could jolly well enjoy a get together (on a very nice cretonne covered armchair) with your men friends, all in various states of Rego dishabille. Whilst smoking and being, well, manly.

The shirt

One of my few fashion crushes is Margaret Howell. Their clothes, interiors products, shops, marketing material (in all its Gill Sans-ness) and general look and feel tick all the boxes for me.

I love fashiony fashions too. But classic, sensible and wearable are also nice things. Added to that, Howell’s output has a big nod and wink to the 1940s – my favourite fashion period of all time. Utility fashion proved that less is more, for sure.

A while back, I managed to convince Margaret Howells’ press peeps to put me on their list. And so, occasionally, I get tasty things in the post. Aggravatingly, my GPO post person insists on folding everything, no matter how big the words ‘Do Not Bend’ are printed on them. In fact, probably because the words ‘Do Not Bend’ are printed on them. I could almost have cried when a Howell calendar got folded irreparably. Don’t they know an ephemerist is in this house?

This brochure got folded too. But still, how lovely it is.

As Howell says in the accompanying letter: ‘The shirt is very special to me. I began my career with it and I am still engaged with the production at Edmonton, where each machinist makes a complete shirt.’

A paean, then, to The Shirt. All photographed in B&W beauty by Koto Bolofo, at that very factory in Edmonton. Plain and simple joy.

Easter bonnet

Shelf Appeal has a new Easter bonnet. The third commissioned header, up there, is by graphic designer Peter Grundy. I’ve long been a fan and am delighted to have a piece of his work sitting here.

It’s a much more graphic than illustrate-y header. But very nice and feeling different for that. I love the arching cat (tiger?) on the final ‘a’ especially. A latter-day Orlando the Marmalade Cat.

The previous header was by Michael Kirkham and the one before that, by Emily Sutton. 3 is the magic number.

Watching Tintin

I finally saw the Spielberg Tintin film. I have avoided it. It looked a bit of a travesty. I am a fan of Spielberg. I am a fan of Tintin. Spielberg makes a rocking adventure film. Obviously he saw adventure potential in Tintin, too. I had hopes.

But then the news leaked that it was going to be animated rather than live action and I wondered. I was right to wonder. The Tintin books are nothing if not beautiful frame after frame after frame. They are all about detail, line and colour. About characterisation. In just a few lines. And as much about what you don’t see as what you do – like all good comics.

Being Spielberg you wouldn’t expect a lot of subtlety of plot. But most of the story, the twists, turns, the detail, line and colour and even the facial expressions – were out the window here. Lost as Spielberg was unable to resist turning much of the story into chases, to showcase the cleverness of his medium. Yeah, whatever.

Tintin looked nothing like himself in this film. In fact most of the characterisation was flawed from my point of view. If it’s a real person, it is possible to suspend one’s disbelief. Like in the live action Batman films. But why animate and loose your likenesses? The lines of the cartoon character are what make them recognisable.

And I had really wanted Spielberg to make a live action film out of Tintin. The fact that he did – and then 3D motion capture animated it – is just frustrating. It is an OK watch, if you push aside your prior knowledge of the books. But if you were bought up on them, as I was, well, this film just doesn’t make the cut.

Face to face

This booklet is a Conversation Guide from BP, for the motorist on his or her travels. The driver who may have had a question about a chassis, a tyre pump, something to buy at a BP service station or a speedometer, could reach within. Upon reaching their hotel, those who might want a second pillow, some bandaging material, stamps, a roll film or a page boy, could find just the right words to make themselves understood. Translated in to 12 languages.

How could anyone resist taking this booklet on their travels? Such a grand cover would surpass conversational endeavours and language barriers. And open the right doors without need for words.

Those faces are the work of Maurice Laban, a little known commercial artist of rather large talent. The chap at the BP Archive hasn’t got a copy of this particular booklet and was unable to help with specific dates. But he did tell me the nice windmill logo on the cover – for the BP Touring Service – started in the mid-1950s and continued through the 1960s. This booklet is, I think, c1960. Ascertained from a number on the inside cover – a method I often use to date things, as do the BP Archive, they tell me.

I like the clichés in this illustration. They all look so darn happy to be representing their countries. Well, and why wouldn’t they in those hats? Maurice Laban illustrated some other nice travel things that have proliferated around the web, yet not led to anything more discoverable about him. Oh, for a few hours rampaging in the stacks at the NAL again..