In Praise of Ties That Know Their Place

By Nicholas Whittle

Did I stick my neck out in my last article when I said that Pitti Uomo was signaling a return to a more refined cut and silhouette in menswear?

Well, we’ve had two big award ceremonies over the past couple of weeks, the Golden Globes and the Grammys, and the outfits that stylists showcase here are often leading indicators.

You may have already seen some of Reg’s takes on specific looks on his ‘Gram feed, but how did the world’s fashion press react?

The consensus suggests not a full reversion to classic men’s dress, but a fork in the road: The Golden Globes increasingly positioned as a space where refined, recognisably formal menswear is rewarded and celebrated, while the Grammys continue to champion innovation and expressive risk—even when those risks are anchored in tailoring.

The Golden Globes broadly framed the men’s red carpet as a re-embrace of classic tailoring, albeit softened for a contemporary moment.

Commentators repeatedly noted the dominance of black-tie foundations—tuxedos, double-breasted suits, black-and-white palettes—which evoked old Hollywood restraint more than recent years’ experimental flair.

By contrast, the press read the Grammys as deliberately resisting any wholesale return to classical elegance, even when tailoring was present.

Coverage emphasized menswear as performance and self-expression, with traditional forms treated as raw material rather than rules.

What unites both, according to fashion writers, is that craftsmanship and fit matter again: whether restrained (DiCaprio, Mescal) or more theatrical (Bad Bunny, Styles), men’s fashion is circling back to structure and intention, rather than irony or deliberate dishevelment.

Craftsmanship. Cut. Structure. A healthy dose of self-expression.

Sounds to me like we need to talk about ties. Ties? Sure, you remember them.

Back before even Wall Street capitulated to polo shirts and chinos (and DO NOT get me started on gilets) gentlemen wore ties.

If the wheel has turned and the kind of menswear that rocks my boat is on the up, then how does the necktie spin this Globe/Grammy vibe and win back its place in the sun?

​The modern necktie remains a remarkably honest object. It does not flatter carelessness, it does not forgive excess, and it has a particular way of exposing men who believe effort and sophistication are the same thing.

Among contemporary options, grenadine and knit ties, Italian slim construction, and simpler knots consistently outperform heavier, more elaborate alternatives – both aesthetically and functionally.

Let’s dump the more traditional 5- and 7-fold patterned silks – those lovingly overwrought relics from an era when "more silk" was considered an argument – and look at some alternatives that deliver all the craftsmanship and elegance you can want, without demanding you surrender any of your self-expression.

Start with grenadine. Woven in Como, Italy on looms that look like they belong in a museum, grenadine silk was originally developed to provide visual interest without ostentation (remember the ‘S’ word). Grenadines come in two main forms: fina (lighter, tighter) and grossa (more open and textured).

Unlike glossy printed silks, the weaves create a subtle visual depth which absorbs light rather than reflecting it.

This is why grenadines pair so well with modern tailoring – they knot softly, collapse just enough, and sit in quiet harmony across a wide range of outfits – from business suits to sport coats – without appearing either severe or casual.

In other words, they do what a tie is supposed to do: complete an outfit without becoming the subject of it.

In our new elegance, formality should soften, not calcify. Which brings us to the knit tie.

Typically silk but sometimes wool or cotton, knit ties violate several conventions at once: square ends, open weave, minimal structure.

They work precisely because they relax tailoring without undermining it.

The rule here is not “knit ties are casual”, but that informality should be intentional.

Practically speaking, they sit flat against the shirt, travel well, resist creasing, and naturally form smaller knots. Aesthetically, they introduce texture where flat silk would look studied or severe.

A knit tie with a flannel suit or hopsack jacket looks effortless; a heavy printed silk in the same context looks like you’ve dressed in the dark using someone else’s wardrobe.

In an era where many offices exist in a permanent state of existential confusion about what anyone should wear, knit ties excel where ease and practicality are valued, and they age better visually than many printed silks, which can date quicker than a tech start-up’s business plan.

Construction matters as much as fabric, and a lighter construction flatters modern proportions.

Italian ties, particularly from Naples and Milan, tend to be slimmer, lighter, and more pliable than their English or French counterparts.

They use thinner interlinings and fewer folds, allowing the use of thicker cloths such as Shantung silk – ties which drape rather than assert.

This approach reflects Italian tailoring more broadly: fluidity, softness, and visual balance - ties that knot cleanly, sit comfortably under modern collars, and complement contemporary lapel widths.

By contrast, traditional English and French 7-fold or 5-fold ties are undeniable feats of craftsmanship that increasingly struggle to justify themselves in daily wear.

Developed in an era of stiffer shirts, narrower ties, and heavier cloth, they rely on multiple layers of silk folded back on themselves.

The effect is impressive in the hand often unfortunate at the neck.

Excess bulk creates knots that feel architectural rather than elegant, and their stiffness actively fights the softer lines of modern jackets.

Craftsmanship, admirable though it is, is not an end in itself – a lesson from which certain selvedge denim enthusiasts and mechanical watch collectors might also benefit.

Which brings us – inevitably, tragically – to the Windsor knot.

Developed to create width and symmetry, the Windsor was a solution to a very specific mid-century problem: how to fill a spread collar using thin ties and rigid shirt fronts.

That problem no longer exists. Modern ties are fuller, collars are softer, and proportions have shifted.

Persisting with a Windsor today results in a knot that is top-heavy, disrupts vertical line, and draws attention to itself with all the subtlety of a man explaining his Rolex collection at a dinner party.

Most well-constructed ties simply do not need it, and the ones that do probably shouldn't exist.

Smaller knots – the four-in-hand, the simple Pratt – allow the tie's fabric and cut to do the work, which is rather the point.

The best ties share one quality: they do not announce themselves. They support the whole, then step back.

Grenadine, knit, lightly constructed silks and restrained knots result in ties that are more adaptable, more flattering, and more in harmony with modern tailoring.

Everything else, from overbuilt construction to aggressively engineered knots, tends to suggest a man trying to solve a problem that no longer exists.

And as with most things in menswear, when something feels absolutely necessary, it usually isn’t.