Glenn O’Brien, who passed away yesterday at the age of 70, was a New York icon, a peerless writer, and, of course, one of the most stylish men around. (For over 15 years, he was The Style Guy at GQ, a title he embodied in every way.)
In 2012, GQ collected Glenn's sartorial wisdom in a special print issue called, simply, The Style Guy. (It's long sold out, but it looks like there's at least one copy available on eBay.) As part of that issue, Nigel Cox photographed some of O’Brien’s most interesting personal effects for a bit called “From the Closet of the Style Guy.”
To honor Glenn, we reprise those photos and the captions he wrote for them below.
The Cream of the Crop
“I have a few tuxes, I guess in case somebody books me in Vegas for a couple of nights. My first-string tux is a peak-lapel Anderson & Sheppard—makes me feel like a million plus. Another is a shawl-collar double-breasted tux. The oddball in my formal wardrobe is this double-breasted white dinner jacket I had made by Steed, of Savile Row. It’s not really white but sort of ‘clotted cream.‘ Somehow I rarely wear it. Maybe I’ll throw it a party some hot night.”
Here’s Where You Break Out of the Uniform
“Your tie shows individuality within that civilian uniform known as the suit. It’s part fingerprint, part flag. It might say that you went to Harvard or it might say ‘Don’t tread on me!‘ I love this hand-painted reproduction Picasso. If I keep my jacket buttoned, it looks conservative; if I unbutton, it shows those assembled that they are dealing not with a square but with a cubist.”
The Master of Suspense
“Actually, I’m not much of a suspenders guy. Those in my closet are mostly for the benefit of my tux trou, which fit in a way that requires support from above. Thus the collection shown here. The naughty nature of the Stork Club and the Botticelli is for that point in the evening when the dinner jacket comes off and I’m doing the frug on the tabletop. I would also recommend to any collector the Trafalgar reissues of the suspenders designed by Calvin Curtis. They come up on eBay now and then.”
A Man’s Jewels Have to Work Harder
“Bling is not my thing. I guess it’s okay for LeBron James or Liberace or the pope, but I can’t handle dazzle and diamonds except on the lady on my arm. I would feel silly in an earring. Wiki Answers had this one: “On what ear do straight men wear earrings?” That’s enough to put me off the whole thing right there. I mean, in what pocket do gay men keep their money? Supposedly pirates wore gold earrings so if their body washed up somewhere it would cover burial expenses. That makes sense, and maybe that’s why I wear nice cuff links, especially when out pillaging, plundering, and marauding. And I like this most traditional and subtle form of jewelry for men. It’s not purely decorative but functional, too. I guess I could wear a $20,000 jeweled watch, but my phone probably keeps better time.”
A French Custom That Sets You Apart
“I’ve been wearing Charvet shirts so long I can’t remember how I got there, but I know I discovered them in Paris. Maybe Cary Grant came to me in a dream. They make the right shirt—the shirt they believe in, the perfect shirt. Much of Charvet’s business is custom. I am lucky enough to be a perfect 43. I also love their big fat bow ties, their silk-knot cuff links, and their exquisite silk robes. I’m hoping next Christmas….”
No, You Can’t Play Angry Birds on It
“I wear my first-string watch as regularly as my wedding ring. Well, actually, I don’t wear this watch on weekends, because I don’t want to get the band caught in the chain saw. This is an urbane, dressy watch. It doesn’t light up at the ocean floor (I don’t go there) or self-wind (I can afford batteries). Okay, basically it’s my jewelry. My dear wife bought it for me. My phone also keeps perfectly good time, but this looks far better.”
A Visionary Work Tool
“I wear glasses only for reading. I can read the daily specials at one hundred feet, and outdoors I’m the guy finding your golf ball or yelling for the Chihuahua as the eagle swoops. I used to get optical frames like Persols and convert them to readers, but then they’d go astray in taxis or get sat on. For a brief interlude, I wore the plainest drugstore readers. If anyone asked, I’d say they were Duane Reade, pronouncing it Italian-style: doo-ah-nay ree-ah-da. Then I discovered Eyebobs. They are top quality, sturdy, handsome, and priced so that loss is not heartbreaking. I have many pairs, all the same, saving minutes a day in search time. They come in almost a hundred styles, so get your own, please.”
Plan Ahead for Mood Swings!
“I choose to wear suits; they aren’t required. A good wardrobe provides a real spectrum, an entire range of vibes suitable for countless occasions and moods, and each suit therein sets a tone that can be expanded upon as you accessorize it. I have a lot of more-sober suits than those you see here—mostly by Anderson & Sheppard of London—but every closet should have some real characters in it.”
It’s Less Square to Just Call It a Hankie
“When I hear ‘pocket square,’ I think of a fancy silk thing. I call it a hankie and prefer cotton or linen. That way I can blow my nose on the thing or dry my tears. Not that I don’t ever wear silk. (Someday I’ll wear that Hermès with the golf balls at St. Andrews.) I don’t usually do the squared-off TV fold. Kind of anal-retentive. Sometimes I’ll do peaks, but often I just plunk it in there and futz with it until it looks impromptu. Contradiction? Maybe.”
Things Fall Apart. And Sometimes That’s Cool
“John, the thirteenth Duke of Bedford, suggested having one’s valet wear a new suit until it no longer looked new. Looking too new signals that you recently arrived—that you’re an arriviste. Being well-dressed requires a sense of patina. After seeing this photo of my old John Lobb Ghillies, I had them polished, but I’m not ashamed of how they look. I’m no perfectionist. I’m an imperfectionist.”
The Family Jewels
“If you don’t have heirlooms, you’re not living right. To live well, one must have a past and a future. But just because your parents went bankrupt and the bank took your estate, it doesn’t mean you can’t start a legacy, a dynasty. These Nike Hoya Destroyas are family jewels. They were a gift from the manufacturer, dating back to the championship team of my alma mater. When I wear them every year or so, I feel the combined force of Ewing, Graham, Martin, Wingate, Williams, and Jackson. When they were new, they once induced a double take from Spike Lee in Brooklyn. It’s a lesson I learned in my childhood from Zacherley, the distinguished ghoul host of Shock Theatre: “Never throw anything out.”
The Family Jewels
“My Schott motorcycle jacket is nearly as old as my wife. It has skidded across asphalt, which is what it was designed for. And it was a commonsense item for downtown gentlemen back in the day, from punk rockers to leather-bar lurkers. (Such gear was required in certain all-male watering holes.) That was an era when there was a real possibility of being accosted by knife-wielding felons. Think of it as a safety jacket in dangerous times.
Not all customizing requires a tailor. You got a friend with talent? Use him. The crown on the back of my Schott was added by Jean-Michel Basquiat at my behest. At the time, some people called me Leroy, a nickname planted on me by George DuBose, a rock ’n’ roll photographer. I said, “Why ‘Leroy,’ George?” He said, “Because you act like a king.” This jacket made me feel like a king.”
Fountains of Forgotten Wisdom
“You can learn more about times past from the etiquette books than from the history books. They tell us how society was thinking from the inside out. I have one, Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour, that was published under the name George Washington, but it was a translated French book transcribed by the Father of Our Country as a teen. The lessons here are not so much about how to behave today but a feel for the sensibilities of a more genteel and honorable time.”
In 2012, GQ collected Glenn's sartorial wisdom in a special print issue called, simply, The Style Guy. (It's long sold out, but it looks like there's at least one copy available on eBay.) As part of that issue, Nigel Cox photographed some of O’Brien’s most interesting personal effects for a bit called “From the Closet of the Style Guy.”
To honor Glenn, we reprise those photos and the captions he wrote for them below.
The Cream of the Crop
Here’s Where You Break Out of the Uniform
“Your tie shows individuality within that civilian uniform known as the suit. It’s part fingerprint, part flag. It might say that you went to Harvard or it might say ‘Don’t tread on me!‘ I love this hand-painted reproduction Picasso. If I keep my jacket buttoned, it looks conservative; if I unbutton, it shows those assembled that they are dealing not with a square but with a cubist.”
The Master of Suspense
A Man’s Jewels Have to Work Harder
“Bling is not my thing. I guess it’s okay for LeBron James or Liberace or the pope, but I can’t handle dazzle and diamonds except on the lady on my arm. I would feel silly in an earring. Wiki Answers had this one: “On what ear do straight men wear earrings?” That’s enough to put me off the whole thing right there. I mean, in what pocket do gay men keep their money? Supposedly pirates wore gold earrings so if their body washed up somewhere it would cover burial expenses. That makes sense, and maybe that’s why I wear nice cuff links, especially when out pillaging, plundering, and marauding. And I like this most traditional and subtle form of jewelry for men. It’s not purely decorative but functional, too. I guess I could wear a $20,000 jeweled watch, but my phone probably keeps better time.”
A French Custom That Sets You Apart
“I’ve been wearing Charvet shirts so long I can’t remember how I got there, but I know I discovered them in Paris. Maybe Cary Grant came to me in a dream. They make the right shirt—the shirt they believe in, the perfect shirt. Much of Charvet’s business is custom. I am lucky enough to be a perfect 43. I also love their big fat bow ties, their silk-knot cuff links, and their exquisite silk robes. I’m hoping next Christmas….”
No, You Can’t Play Angry Birds on It
“I wear my first-string watch as regularly as my wedding ring. Well, actually, I don’t wear this watch on weekends, because I don’t want to get the band caught in the chain saw. This is an urbane, dressy watch. It doesn’t light up at the ocean floor (I don’t go there) or self-wind (I can afford batteries). Okay, basically it’s my jewelry. My dear wife bought it for me. My phone also keeps perfectly good time, but this looks far better.”
A Visionary Work Tool
Plan Ahead for Mood Swings!
“I choose to wear suits; they aren’t required. A good wardrobe provides a real spectrum, an entire range of vibes suitable for countless occasions and moods, and each suit therein sets a tone that can be expanded upon as you accessorize it. I have a lot of more-sober suits than those you see here—mostly by Anderson & Sheppard of London—but every closet should have some real characters in it.”
It’s Less Square to Just Call It a Hankie
“When I hear ‘pocket square,’ I think of a fancy silk thing. I call it a hankie and prefer cotton or linen. That way I can blow my nose on the thing or dry my tears. Not that I don’t ever wear silk. (Someday I’ll wear that Hermès with the golf balls at St. Andrews.) I don’t usually do the squared-off TV fold. Kind of anal-retentive. Sometimes I’ll do peaks, but often I just plunk it in there and futz with it until it looks impromptu. Contradiction? Maybe.”
Things Fall Apart. And Sometimes That’s Cool
“John, the thirteenth Duke of Bedford, suggested having one’s valet wear a new suit until it no longer looked new. Looking too new signals that you recently arrived—that you’re an arriviste. Being well-dressed requires a sense of patina. After seeing this photo of my old John Lobb Ghillies, I had them polished, but I’m not ashamed of how they look. I’m no perfectionist. I’m an imperfectionist.”
The Family Jewels
The Family Jewels
Not all customizing requires a tailor. You got a friend with talent? Use him. The crown on the back of my Schott was added by Jean-Michel Basquiat at my behest. At the time, some people called me Leroy, a nickname planted on me by George DuBose, a rock ’n’ roll photographer. I said, “Why ‘Leroy,’ George?” He said, “Because you act like a king.” This jacket made me feel like a king.”
Fountains of Forgotten Wisdom
“You can learn more about times past from the etiquette books than from the history books. They tell us how society was thinking from the inside out. I have one, Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour, that was published under the name George Washington, but it was a translated French book transcribed by the Father of Our Country as a teen. The lessons here are not so much about how to behave today but a feel for the sensibilities of a more genteel and honorable time.”
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