For this New Yorker, the best were innocuous and many of the rest downright ugly
ROB SHEPPERSON
By RALPH GARDNER JR.
June 30, 2016 6:19 p.m. ET
The 1990s was probably the last time I purchased a necktie. There are several reasons for the spending drought, among them that I seem to have less and less need for one. But perhaps the biggest reason is that I haven’t spotted a necktie I’ve really wanted for ages.
Nothing has approached the last necktie I bought in terms of beauty and wit. The fabric is olive-green silk, the pattern one of satisfied-looking brown pelicans, their pouches bulging with fresh catch.
It was made by Sulka, a luxury menswear brand and the zenith of high-end neckwear. Unfortunately, the company went out of business shortly after I bought my tie.
What prompted the urge to return to the marketplace was the realization that selecting a necktie from my closet no longer sparks the anticipation that picking a great necktie that matches your mood can as you loop it around your neck and tighten the knot.
Also, I had a $100 Saks Fifth Avenue gift card burning a hole in my pocket.
The last time I was in the market for a necktie, a hundred bucks was a lot of money.
It also happened to be sale season and the department store had dozens of discounted ties. However, the only one that aroused my interest was a woven Charvet blue silk that wasn’t on sale and that a salesperson told me probably wouldn’t be during my lifetime.
The cost: $245. Doing some quick math, I realized I’d be deep in the hole even with my gift card.
And while the Charvet tie was beautiful, it wasn’t unique. It didn’t do what ties, at peak performance, should do. And that’s subtly to inform the world that while you’re as good as the next guy at appearing corporate, inside you burns an artist, a paradigm-shifting personality, a threat to the status quo.
I realize that’s a heavy burden to place on a piece of fabric. But my Sulka tie proved it could be done.
So I set out on a quest for a remarkable necktie along Madison and Fifth avenues, confident I’d know it when I saw it.
Among the stores I visited were Paul Stuart, Charles Tyrwhitt, Bergdorf Goodman, Barneys, Etro, Emilio Pucci and Camicissima, an Italian company that was selling ties three for $69.90.
But first a question that struck me as I perused the selection at Paul Stuart: Who came up with the idea of paisley and who decided those amoeba-shaped forms were attractive?
Indeed, my expedition led me to the conclusion that we’re wallowing in a dark age as far as neckties are concerned. The best were innocuous, many of the rest downright ugly.
I suspect the grimness of the selection has something to do with risk-averse sartorial standards or deterioration in taste on a grand scale. I’m often appalled by the necktie choices I spot among TV anchormen. But I suppose any tie is better than an open-neck shirt.
My ultimate destination was Hermès, the store I’ve been led to believe is the gold standard in neckties these days. Indeed, my pelican necktie could pass for an Hermès, an abnormally interesting Hermès.
I never made it to Hermès’s flagship store, but I didn’t need to. Bergdorf carried a wide selection, as did Brioni, Salvatore Ferragamo and Ermenegildo Zegna among others. Many of the ties were lovely, but none sparked the intellect. They looked made to fit in rather than stand out.
I shared my concerns with a Bergdorf saleswoman and wistfully mentioned Sulka. “That was the master,” she agreed.
While Etro didn’t have what I was looking for either, some selections were in the ballpark. One, of giraffes grazing among the high leaves of acacia trees, was interesting—just not interesting enough.
I realized that’s what some of the most interesting neckties have in common, or once did: They tell a story. Something is happening that sparks the observer’s imagination. Neckties should be a form of performance art.
My final stop was Pucci, which once rivaled Sulka in tie innovation and proved long ago that real men could pull off pinks and purples. (Ah, to be back in the 70s!)
A saleswoman informed me that Pucci no longer makes neckties. She offered to show me a pair of swimming trunks instead.
— ralph.gardner@wsj.com