What every guy can learn from Lou Reed’s style
The classic black biker jacket, a la Lou, telegraphs outsider cred – even when you don’t have any.
Being a guy is a bit like joining the Village People.
Hear me out. Regarding matters of personal style, the average bloke chooses from a pre-existing menu of archetypes – prepster, bohemian, slob, nerd, dandy, hypebeast, etc – and then lives out his life dressing according to script.
Many successful menswear brands recognise this fact and serve their customers accordingly. Retailers who try to force an unwilling customer into an experimental lane – has sir considered a Gucci velvet highwayman’s cape? – are unlikely to set their cash registers ringing.
But shilling the look of rocker Lou Reed? That’s a different story. I firmly believe that every guy, regardless of how normcore or fancy his style may be, should have a little Lou in his wardrobe. Within most every man there lurks the vestiges of a rock star rebel. The least you can do is dress him up and take him out for the occasional stroll.
In 1964, Reed and John Cale founded the Velvet Underground, one of the most edgy and influential bands in rock history. Encouraged by their manager, Andy Warhol, the New York band merged avant-garde and rock, blasting songs such as Heroin and Venus in Furs, all penned by Reed, into our brains. He was “the greatest songwriter of his age,” according to his old pal, rock veteran Danny Fields.
Reed, who died in 2013, was also pretty hot in the style department. In his shades, black T-shirt and well-worn biker jacket, he established himself as the ultimate symbol of edgy downtown cool, offering style inspiration to all those guys who abandoned their rock star fantasies post-adolescence and took a more conventional path – which is basically every man on Earth.
How to do Lou? Let’s break it down, starting with the shades. Young Lou wore wraparound mod sunglasses. Dear reader, I would eschew this style in favour of the timeless aviators, often mirrored, which subsequently became a Reed trademark. The Ray-Ban classic will hit the spot. Those wishing to splurge can purchase a more stylised pair from Tom Ford.
Though black T-shirts are now ubiquitous, then they were hard to find, largely associated with bikers and outcasts. By wearing one you are signalling your solidarity with the artists, musicians and beats of yore – or that you simply like the colour black.
The piece de resistance? The black biker jacket. As edgy as a tattoo, minus the permanence, this classic garment telegraphs your outsider cred, even when you don’t have any. The late fashion historian Richard Martin described the leather jacket as having “a mythos regarding roving barbarians on wheels who travel in packs and imperil civilised values”. The jacket gives you all of this and more, albeit vicariously.
But which type of biker jacket? Reed wore many styles during his career, and luckily for you, there is an almost baffling array currently on offer. We’re talking every brand, from Saint Laurent to Topman. The most authentic rocker leather jacket is a Lewis Leathers Lightning biker number. I purchased mine at the height of punk London, circa 1977. (I was working as a window dresser at custom shirtmaker Turnbull & Asser and felt the need to imperil a few values.) This jacket, as I recall, took a while to soften up; Sid Vicious was long dead by the time it had attained a pleasing squish. But the wearing-in of your jacket is part of the whole rebel scenario, by which I mean faux-rebel scenario.
Circa 1972, Reed briefly departed from his signature look, opting instead for a glam-rock medley that included embroidered velvet, mascara and nail polish. This was when he gave us Transformer, which was recorded in London as glam rock was peaking. David Bowie had released The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars a few months prior; silver space boots, satin jumpsuits and gobs of eye shadow were the rage.
Reed’s wife, Bettye, recalled his complaining that this experiment in glam caused him to feel like a clown. “I only did three or four shows like that, and then it was back to leather,” he told an English journalist in 1973.
He would stick with his leather biker look, and variations thereof, for the rest of his life. Whenever you feel like taking a walk on the wild side, throw on your jacket and shades, even if it’s just for a trip to the local hardware store.
The Wall Street Journal