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This might sound unreal, but one of my earliest and most distinct memories is of a particular day rummaging through my mom’s closet looking for presents. It wasn’t my birthday or Christmas or anything like that; I just had this wild notion that maybe my parents had left me an action figure or book somewhere around the house. Outside of one lucky find (around my actual birthday), I never did find any goodies…outside of a peculiar shoe made of patent leather and clicky-clacky heels and toes. I recall putting them and becoming enamored with each percussive step, dancing through the tiled floor in the kitchen; I was very disappointed that these magic flats did not work on carpet. 

It seems that my mom was taking tap dancing lessons, and after she noticed my fascination with those shoes, I ended up accompanying her to the classes, watching in awe as the group shuffled in unison– and on beat. I kept this going at home, much to my parents’ chagrin, as I kept putting on her shoes and danced through the house. At some point, she stopped taking classes and gave back the shoes. I used to wonder if she also did that in order to get me to stop tapping with wild abandon; she probably didn’t want to pay for more lessons, as I had recently given up the violin (but was starting to show interest in the piano). 

All that to say, I’ve never tap danced since. I’ve felt the inkling come back thanks to iconic scenes like “Moses Supposes” (Singin’ in the Rain) and “No Dames” (Hail, Caesar!). There’s just something so cool in how these dancers move their legs and feet so elegantly while their faces have the most nonchalant expressions. I recently found myself getting bit by the tap bug again, thanks to Spencer and me finally watching An American in Paris, a film that not only has great tap dancing, but an exquisite 20-minute ballet, cheeky lyrics, and to my surprise, a snippet of Gershwin’s Piano Concerto in F (we need more movies that feature performances of classical music). 

It was quite something to finally see this film. I could immediately see its charm, which has everything to do with the musical numbers.  Each piece showcases the actors’ prowess, especially Gene Kelly, who simply oozes charisma with each choreogaphed move. In terms of plot, it is much less interesting than Singin’ and is quite icky, with just how value-dissociative the romance is. Lise is stated to be 19, and Jerry has to be at least in his 30s, with Henri being even older; this type of thing is ever-present in Golden Era Hollywood. Despite the age gap, I was surprised to see a bit of “progressiveness” in terms of dating: both Henri and Jerry say that they don’t care what Lise does or who she sees when she’s not with them, though Henri’s proposal does force this love triangle to come to a head.  After Jerry’s fantastical ballet-filled crashout, Henri releases Lise (happily, I might add) and gives us that Hollywood Happy Ending.

Apart from the dance numbers reinvigorating my love of tap, I also felt quite inspired by the attire of this film. Cool clothes and outfits are par for the course for old Hollywood, but you have to remember that this isn’t a genre I watch often! Everything on screen is delightfully spring-appropriate with vintage flavoring, being filled with open shirts, jackets without ties, and cream trousers. My attitude for this upcoming Spring/Summer was certainly going to be shaped by this movie.

I was also particularly excited to write about this film because it’s been a while since we’ve covered a movie that not only features a lot of tailoring but also leverages distinct nuances in style to separate its characters. It’s also just wild that we haven’t talked about An American in Paris already. We’re making our way through the classics!

It goes without saying that the most sartorial of the trio is Henri, the exuberant and successful singer played by Georges Guétary. When we first meet him, Henri wears an immaculate navy DB suit, cut in a very late 40s way: strong jacket shoulders,  a low buttoning point (on a 4×1 closure, no less), and extremely-lightly tapered trousers. One might even think of his suit as looking a bit American, which would make sense considering how this Parisian film was filmed almost entirely on the MGM backlot, but if illustrations are anything to go by, the “bold” look was already making its mark in postwar menswear around the world.  Henri maintains this cut in the only other suit we see him wear: grey. These plain suits are simple but effective in communicating his status as a stylish, well-to-do gentleman. 

What intrigued me was what Henri’s suits were paired with. Henri’s shirts are always white and done as a spearpoint collar, which was intetersing since such shirts were already being shed in favor of the point and spread collars by this time; Jerry is even seen wearing a semi-spread in a later scene.  As for ties, Henri’s neckwear is all very proto-50s in how they tend to feature fun, “vertical abstracts”, though you should note that he fastens them the “old school” way by using the four-in-hand knot. Henri’s “classic” approach to postwar menswear is accented by his use of gloves and a homburg, both in light grey. These accoutrements are quite formal and would be more at home with morning dress or a stroller suit, but they do work to communicate that Henri is indeed a seasoned gentleman, one who has a penchant for flair. He is French after all! (Though it should be noted that he totally eschews a pocket square, a move echoed by our two other leads.)

But as much as we love rakishly dressed gents, Spencer and I will always have a soft spot for slouchy vintage tailoring– a vibe best exemplified by Adam Cook, a grumpy concert pianist played by Oscar Levant (a grumpy concert pianist).  Like Henri, Adam does have a uniform, though it is much less put-together: he wears a padded sport coat, an open loop collar shirt, and drooped-loop trousers, which are held up not by a belt, but by braces. It’s such a simple and casual look that always looks put together, despite how schlubby the clothes (and the wearer) tend to be. 

Adam does get to wear a few variations, such as the combo of a navy jacket, faded-red shirt (with accompanying buttons), and caramel pants, and (our favorite) the rig of a light grey gabardine quad-patch pocket jacket with a black sport shirt and charcoal trousers; the latter gets drenched with coffee and whiskey when he hilariously figures out that Jerry and Henri are pining after the same girl. 

He even gets to try his own hand at white tie, though only in a fantasy. Adam’s immaculate white tie rig appears when he daydreams about playing Gershwin’s Piano Concerto in F. There’s just something fun about seeing musicians lost in the sauce with their hair in a flurry while wearing the height of men’s formal attire. Later on, Adam truly gets lost in the sauce during the art students’ “black and white” masquerade, where he absurdly wears an outfit that can only be described as a “monochrome cowboy”, complete with a big ‘ol hat. Adam Cook might just be the actual Style God of this film.

I jest of course, because Gene Kelly really does look quite spectacular—  and inspirational, for us menswear folk — with his fits. 

When it comes to exuding the mood for Spring/Summer 2026, Gene Kelly’s attire as Jerry Mulligan takes the cake. Not only does he have great style, one that is distinct from Henri and Adam’s, but Jerry also gets to wear a variety of outfits, showcasing the possibilities of vintage menswear. 

Being a painter (a struggling one, at that), Jerry’s main look is casual, sporty, and likely easily washable– a stark contrast to the dapper attire worn by Henri, his adversary in love. Instead of a formal homburg, Jerry wears a floppy, long-billed, khaki painters’ cap, one that looks close to what mechanics would wear in WWII (a nod to his own status as a GI). There isn’t a jacket or even a proper shirt to be found on Jerry, at least when he’s painting; he instead opts for an off-white crewneck sweatshirt (complete with the double “V” stitch, wide ribbing, and flattering semi-trim fit) or a grey lambswool or cashmere v-neck sweater. Instead of a cravat, Jerry wears a vibrant red scarf that always stays perfectly in place around his neck, creating a bit of a tunic vibe. This is one of my favorite moves, as I find it an excellent way to make sportswear (or workwear) a bit more elegant, especially when compared to a bandana you would typically expect.

The iconic part of Jerry’s main rig is his cream trousers, which appear to be made from linen or cotton. Despite their formal (or at least dressy) perceptions, white/cream pants have a history in workwear, which makes them an authentic choice for Jerry (though he does dress them up later with a sportshirt and sportcoat). Wearing such pants during the warmer months is a no-brainer, as they exude a casual, sprightly attitude, much like Jerry himself! I’ve owned casual white pants for a while, but haven’t worn them lately simply because I prefer a proper tailored trouser as I often leverage a dressier attitude; Jerry’s got me thinkin’ that I should simply wear them as he does. 

Like the chinos he would have worn in the military, the white pants are flat front and feature a small taper from the knee down. In a move to make them his own, Jerry manually cuffs his trousers, which emphasizes their casual nature as well as their inherent taper and drape. The resultant shorter length serves to highlight Jerry’s white socks and penny loafers, a move that isn’t quite Ivy style, simply because, well, this outfit isn’t Ivy. It does, however, draw attention to his feet while dancing, helping your eyes keep track of the various tap moves that honestly make me quite sad that my parents never signed me up for lessons. 

Maybe the real goal this summer is to be able to tap dance in my white workwear pants!

Of course, Jerry doesn’t spend the whole time in paintwear. Just like Rock Hudson in All That Heaven Allows, Jerry knows to dress when the Occasion calls for it— and boy does he do it. For a two-person dinner party with would-be patron Milo, Jerry trades painter whites for a tasteful grey flannel suit, which is cut in a conservative 40s way; the moderate button point and gentle lapel contrasts to the “bolder” ones worn by Adam. The suit is paired with a white (or very light blue) semi-spread shirt and burgundy knit tie, a nod to his beloved scarf; no pocket squares appear here. I obviously would’ve preferred to see something patterned (Rock Hudson at least wears a repp stripe in his film), but all the solids work to keep Jerry reserved and un-flashy. After all, Jerry is meant to be more informal than Henri while still feeling more put-together than Adam.

This gives way to what might be my favorite outfit in the film (hot take?), which is Jerry’s attire for a late-night saunter around the Seine with Lise. Jerry’s trusty grey suit makes a return here (perhaps it’s his only suit), worn for this date sans tie; instead, he wears a navy polo-style Gaucho Shirt. The novelty shirt is very trim, features a ribbed hem and cuffs, as well as what appears to be either an integral collar or simply a sport collar fastened all the way to the top. I adore how it looks with both the full jacket and on its own, being “interesting” and understated all at once– a good candidate for a date night top. I’m definitely going to do it myself someday, if I haven’t already!

That grey suit isn’t the only piece of tailoring Jerry gets to wear. As I said before, he pairs a khaki sportcoat (cut very similarly to his suit jacket, just with triple patch pockets) with his cream painting pants. Jerry does this rig twice, once with a blue sportshirt (with the jaunty runaway collar) and with a pink shirt, which I’m not certain is either a sportshirt or an OCBD with the collar points put in. Both shirts are highlighted against the tonal separates combo, which serves as great inspo for a casually tailored spring/summer look. Everyone should do it!

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t speak on Jerry’s attire during the 19-minute ballet sequence at the climax of the movie. For most of the dance, he wears yet another Gaucho shirt, this time in black and featuring a perpetually open contrast collar. The shirt is both dramatic and ultimately casual, with its monochrome color scheme being an Inception-like mental carryover from the real-life masquerade Jerry is attending. It’s paired with black trousers that are cut just like his painter pants and suit trousers: flat front, lightly tapered, and a bit of a short hem to show off those white socks and loafers. This “suit” feels a bit nautical (I can’t recall if Jerry served in the Navy), but it also gives a bit of the traditional ballet singlet vibe, just done as “regular clothes”. It certainly looks chic and somehow feels both feminine and masculine all at once. 

Jerry even gets to wear tailoring in his ballet fantastique. During a sequence in a Parisian street, Jerry meets up with his fellow GIs, who then promptly dance right into a nearby haberdashery and proceed to buy the outfits right off the mannequins in the window. The outfits in question are obviously the dandiest found in the entire movie: striped regatta blazers with matching ties and boaters, white trousers (Jerry can’t escape them), spectator shoes, and canes. This dapper rig is also decidedly American (or at least rather Anglo) than it is French, which only hammers the title of the film. It is also much more reminiscent of 20s summer attire than it is 50s, which contributes to the nostalgic feeling of the scene while also being a sartorial shout-out to when Gershwin’s jazzy symphonic poem was first performed (1928). 

As fun as that combination is, I’m not likely to wear a boater and striped blazer anytime soon. Even I have my limits! But as for the rest of the attire in American in Paris—the sweatshirt with white pants, open sportshirts under a sportcoat, and a navy polo with a grey suit— you can bet that I’ll be wearing similar fits all spring long! I’m plenty aware that going casual (read: tie-less) in Warm Weather is always an obvious move, but with the way my brain works, I need to have inspiration, to be jump-started and convinced not to simply default to striped shirts and patterned ties. What better source than this classic, showcasing guys in mostly casual attire, singing and tap dancing around?

Maybe the way for me to stick to it is if I finally take tap dancing lessons myself. If I do it, rest assured that you lot will be in the first row at my recital.

– end of blog post –

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Ethan 

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