
1970s · 1960s-1970s · British
Designer
John Ericson
Production
handmade
Material
cotton
Culture
British
Movement
Hippie / Counterculture
A men's dress shirt featuring navy blue and white vertical stripes of varying widths. The shirt displays classic tailored construction with a pointed collar, button-front closure, and long sleeves with button cuffs. The striping pattern creates visual interest through alternating narrow and wider bands, with some sections showing clustered thin stripes. The cotton fabric appears crisp and structured, typical of formal shirting. The garment shows traditional English tailoring techniques with precise seaming and professional finishing. The collar is proportioned for tie wear, and the overall silhouette follows conventional menswear standards of the 1960s with a fitted but not slim cut through the torso.
These two shirts reveal how the stripe migrated from Wall Street power play to Savile Row subtlety. The charcoal pinstripe shirt carries the sharp, almost predatory precision of 2000s finance culture—those knife-thin lines designed to slice through boardroom air—while the navy and white striped shirt speaks in the gentler accent of 1970s British tailoring, where stripes were conversational rather than confrontational.
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These two pieces speak the same language of masculine precision, separated by two decades and an ocean but united in their devotion to the grid. The herringbone trousers with their knife-sharp pleats and the striped shirt with its directional play of navy and white both worship at the altar of geometric order—one through the subtle chevron weave that catches light like fish scales, the other through the bold maritime stripes that turn the torso into a barcode of respectability.
That psychedelic tie's hand-woven stripes—all those blues and greens and reds running wild in different directions—captures the exact moment when hippie craft culture crashed into boardroom dress codes. The shirt's crisp navy pinstripes follow the rules, marching in perfect parallel formation like good soldiers, while the tie breaks rank entirely with its chaotic, painterly bands that seem to shift and breathe.
That swirling paisley tie and the directionally-confused striped shirt are both products of the same 1970s menswear rebellion that said formality didn't have to mean boring. The tie's fluid, almost psychedelic teardrops in muted blues echo the shirt's deliberate stripe chaos—horizontal meeting vertical in a geometric fever dream that would have scandalized any proper Savile Row tailor.