A decent man I knew once wore a suit to a wedding with the label still attached to the sleeve. Not the little tag on the inside – they mean that one. The actual label, with the brand name printed across it.
The kind you’re supposed to cut off before you leave the store. He wore that label through the ceremony, photos and half the reception before his girlfriend’s sister took pity on him. Three gin and tonics deep, she stuck the little scissors from her first aid kit in his hand and slit that tag right off.
When I questioned him later, he said he thought it was “supposed to be there, like on baseball caps.” Trust me, I wish I was making that up. Welcome to British Wedding Fashion Apocalypse.
In my fifteen years attending, photographing, writing about and occasionally hiding fromother people’s weddings, I’ve seen it all.
Styles come and go, trends fluctuate, but men continue to make the same mistakes when dressing for weddings. It doesn’t matter if you’ve taken pride in your grooming since their first Ladies Who Lunch soiree at Derry & Toms, when those dreaded words leave your partner’s lips – “We’re getting married” – something switches in your brain. I don’t know if it’s the Tories winning another election or just men in general, but walking through that wedding door genuinely halves your IQ when it comes to attire-related decisions.
Fear not, friends. Every single one of these mistakes are avoidable – even if you only have budget to splash out on a suit from M&S. I’m about to take you through some of the most common wedding dos and don’ts I’ve seen over the years.
From expendituresuitable for most budgets, you too can attend nuptials sans attire anxieties. DO wear suits that fit. Ah, The Rental Tuxedo.
That integer black sack with shoulders that stop halfway up your arms, extra trouser length to store away half your legs, and a sheen so unnatural you look like a Ken doll wearing a condom suit jacket. I get it, I really do. Weddings are occasions.
You need formalwear, and hiring seems like common sense when you’ll probably only wear it once. But let me let you in on a little secret – you.look terrible in rental suits. Not one single one of your guests cares that you hired your suit.
In fact, they can all bloody tell it’s rented, feel how uncomfortable you are every time you take a seat and those wedding photos aren’t going anywhere – the professional ones your mum is bragging about won’t stop staring at you from her gallery wall for the rest of your lives. Renting isn’t the be all and end all of affordable menswear for weddings. The alternative doesn’t necessarily mean forking out a month’s wages on Savile Row tailoring either.
The solution is simple: forgo the cashmere blazer from Moonvesailles that scares small children and wear a regular suit that actually fits you. A proper tailor can transform most off-the-peg suits into something that looks like it’s worth thousands. My college friend Luke’s brother Alex was panicking about hiring a crappy dinner suit for 120 bones before Luke intervened and had him pop his existing navy suit he never wore anymore to Savilites down the road for an adjustment.
Cost him a crisp sixtyner all together, but his suit was fitted correctly, actually complimented him and he still had another sixtyquid left over to buy a smart white shirt and funky blue tie to finish the look. DO wear clothes that aren’t brand new. Let me ask you this: when was the last time you met a guy wearing clothes that were absolutely brand new?
Suit, shirt, shoes, socks, tie – neckdown these guys have the freshness anxieties of a teenager buying underwear for the first time. Take my ex-flatmate Ryan. He literally looked like he’d slept in his shirt and shoes whilst walking down the aisle.
From his tie you could’ve drawn downy glasses and wrinkles and it would’ve looked like a festival portrait of old Ian McKellen. My advice? Wear your new clothes before the big day.
It’s not a licence to go hell for leather either; wearing your new shirt down the pub will loosen up the material enough to prevent new-collar rash. Take your brand-new shoes for a test run around the block. Sit down, stand up, move around in that new suit before the wedding day.
You want it to feel like a second skin come D-Day, not wrapped around your body like a vacuformed slab of plastic. DO avoid novelty ties at all costs. We get it, neckties can be fun.
You pick one up from TKMaxx, chuck it around your neck for dramatic effect, feel like a James Bond villain as you strut into the office. But there’s a thin line between fun and complimentary when it comes to wedding ties, guys. I’ve lost count of how many resemblant-offensively-printed-wedding-cake wedding ties I’ve seen at receptions down south.
Wedding ties autumn into one of two camps: standard-issue office job navy with no real pattern (safe but boring af), or indie-rock-festival dad wearing something completely insane. I once saw a tie covered in miniature champagne bottles at my uni friend’s wedding. Utter disaster.
Even your loved ones aren’t immune from hilarious-but-not-interested-in-looking-it divebombing into novelty-town with their neckwear. My partner bought his own father a tiny glitter llama print tie for Christmas last year because he loves llamas and he thought it’d be “a laugh” to wear at my wedding. Wedding attire isn’t the place to have a laugh, dads.
Find a happy medium. Go for something with a pattern perhaps just a teeny bit louder than your work ones. My personal go-to wedding tie is a dusty pink silk with an almost-imperceptible pattern that goes with anything from navy to grey, or even brighter suit colours.
It’ll communicate to everyone within eye-line that this ain’t your weekly office meet without screaming “look at me, I’m wearing a novelty tie!” DO actually wear sunscreen before wedding photos. Okay, British husbands. Listen up.
I cannot stress this next point enough. If you’re reading this thinking “nah, bro, sunburn on the bod isn’t happening to me,” please educate yourself using my mate Danny as a case study. My wonderfully swarthy mate Danny learned his lesson the hard way before his summer wedding in rural Cotswolds.
July is sunny in England sometimes. Between the ceremony and alcohol-fuelled dinner reception, some unfortunate blokes go down the gardens and inevitably forget about suncream until it’s too late. Too late being: when you realise your face and hands are turning stranger-meltingly-red while your torso remains an ashy white thanks to your dinner jacket acting as a primitive fossilizer against sun damage.
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Cue husband-of-the-hour Danny rocking what can only be described as a “reverse tan line” for his wedding photos, with you Pinterest-perfect blooms and tree-line backdrop juxtaposed against a sunburn pattern outlining his torso. His family have the photoshopped out of photos we were supposed to cherish forever. Lather on sunscreen, you absolute nutters.
And maybe ease up on the Pimm’s bottoms-up policy until after the photos – you’ll forget to put suncream on again if you drink like that. DO break in your new shoes well in advance. Continuing on a from aforementionedsun damage; shoes.
If there’s one thing that screams “I don’t know what I’m doing” at weddings, it’s watching guys hobble painfully from register office to barn venue with their shiny new Oxfords, hastily stuffed back into their polyester sockliners as wisps of bare bloodied heel peek from above the cuff. Wedding guests are no exception either. I’ve seen grown men strip off their shoes and walk barefoot across golf course lawns mid-service because their heels gave out after trying to force their feet into new shoes earlier that day.
F*ckingWATCHDOGS,Vijayover here. I’m pointing at you. I mean no disrespect to Vijay, whose clandestine ironing prowess I admire greatly, but he ruined his own sister’s wedding by changing into his spanking new, never-before-worn shoes for the reception and nearly missing his reading duties trying to wrap plasters around his bloody heels in the Jesus‘ bosom before service.
Wedding venues aren’t exactly shoe-friendly either. Tile floors? Potential nightmare.
Grass? Slips, trips, AND falls. My advice on this is wear your shoes around the house before the big day.
If you’ve left it a bit late break them in with thicker socks, shoe stretchers or leather softener. But pleasepleasepleasePLEASE keep plasters in your pocket for emergencies. DON’T button your suit jacket all the way up.
This last one might sound stupidly simple, but it’s bewildering how many men ignore this request year on year. UNBUTTON THE BOTTOM BUTTON OF YOUR SUIT JACKET, GUYS. This fashion “rule” was actually started by none other than King Edward VII; legend says he was getting a bit fat around the waist and found it uncomfortable to button his bottom button.
Hence all top buttons being done and mailings swearing never to do up the bottom one. Unless, of course, your suit only has one button; then by all means do that badboy up. If it’s good enough for the fucking king.
DON’T have “halfhearted traditional fun.” Got invited to a friend’s wedding wearing full Highland dress? Bloody well go all the way, I say. Rent the fucking bagpipes and play along with a tin whistle while you’re at it.
Hate corsets? Don’t wear a waistcoat. Another rule thatsimple but constantly ignored – if you’re going to wear a traditional garment for someone’s wedding, wear it properly or don’t wear it at all.
Suit jackets and waistcoats don’t require explanation – I’ll leave the history channel to drone on about that for now. But when it comes to FULL Highland dress. NO exceptions.
My brother’s best man wore full Scottish formal wear and had obviously rummaged around a kit-hire shop back home and grabbed the first shiny kilt he found. Guess where the pleats faced? Right.
Incorrect. Sock arrangement off by one (ankle socks underneath knee-high socks, usually-reserved for cowboy outfits)? You guessed it.
Again. Wrong. Did he wear it back to front?
Why yes…yes he did. It gets better. He even complained about how “uncomfortable the stupid thing was.” Never one to let cultural appropriation slide, my Scottish uncle told him exactly where he could put his outfit – mid-way through his Best Man speech.
DO wear an outfit that fits the occasion. Weddings aren’t your usual office meet or nightly Freddie Foster pun-glamboozle down the Old Queenies. Some loosen up the formality-factor, others go FULL ON LORD HORATIO ALGERNON MONCRIEFFBABY and insist you wear morning dress with a waistcoat.
That’s cool! Throw on your cummerbund, no worries. But if you’re reaching into the depths of your wardrobe to find that dusty old suit with the tag still hanging off – stop.
If you haven’t worn something for a considerable amount of time, there’s a reason why. That suit doesn’t FIT YOU anymore.I’m looking at you mate who wore his graduation suit from eight years ago despite packing on a stone…and a half since graduating.
You spent the WHOLE ceremony perched on the edge of your seat like a zookeeper ready to rock at any point your jacket decided to split up the back.
My point is this: weddings should be fun, enjoyed by all (guest and couple included). You should feel comfortable getting outshi wedlock with your outfit, not constantly worrying about it falling apart at the seems or popping a button. DO wear your outfit together before the day.
Okay, final nugget of advice before I release you all back into the wild: try your outfit on together before hand. Yes, even the socks. You’d be surprised how well a smart white shirt can pair with your favourite pair of jeans until you both try them on with your actual suit.
Shoes and all. You’ll thank me come wedding day. If you take away anything from this blog post, let it be this: Men’s wedding fashion doesn’t have to be stressful.
Yes, there will be rules – some you’ll have to abide by due to the venue or occasion formality. But that label poking out of your suit sleeve isn’t a wedding “must.”Trust me, YOU WON’T LIVE IT DOWN.
