I’ve never smelled the oily mechanical twist that’s said to be in vintage Knize Ten, so this dry, elegant, floral leather seems more Peter Wimsey than Marlon Brando on a motorbike.

For a men’s classic it seems cleaner and more polite than most of the “feminine” leathers I wear: despite the reference in the name to polo it doesn’t have Cuir de Russie’s whiff of the stables or the horse, nor Bandit’s kick-your-arse boots. It’s not got the undercurrent of warm skin and dark corners, but nor is it handbag leather–the soft suedes of Cuir d’Ange, or Bottega Veneta. It’s not raunchy, but nor is it an airbrushed sexless ken doll.

I keep trying to define it by what it’s not. Which is odd, as it’s got a personality all of its own. There is a contained toughness here but it’s well-aired, freshly ironed, and wearing new shoes.

I wear Knize Ten when I want to convince the world that I have my shit together.

originally published 20 March 2019