An Expose On Coaching Fashion: by Annie

(Go ahead and out-dress me...I DARE YOU!)

For the first time in the history of this blog, we have a guest author! Annie has put in some time-consuming research with regard to NCAA basketball coaching fashion. I was awed and quite pleased with her findings and the amount of effort she put into this. Enjoy!

Desmond has been encouraging me for awhile to lend some of my fashion expertise to this blog, as I admit that sometimes I pay more attention to what coaches are wearing than to what’s happening on the court. Not always, but sometimes. And I am not the only one, as certain coaches have become known for certain suits, hairdos, ties, signature garments that aren’t suits (I’m thinking mock turtleneck here), and general style or lack thereof. In order to best illustrate my thoughts on this topic, I’m going to focus on a few well-known coaches, in no particular order.

It must not be ignored that part of good fashion is good looks. As much as we hate to admit it, the people who set the tone in the fashion world tend to be good-looking. We average-looking people then hope to improve our overall image by buying and wearing what’s in style. However, sometimes we ignore the fact that fashion is often sold not on the looks or quality of the garment, but on the looks of the person wearing it. This may seem obvious to you all, but it’s worth highlighting as I consider several basketball coaches—some good looking and good dressers, some not as good looking and good dressers, and some even bad looking and bad dressers. I won’t go into the fourth quadrant, which would be good looking and bad dressers, since I honestly don’t pay that much attention to coaches’ looks, and tend only to notice a handsome coach primarily when he’s handsomely dressed.

We’ll start with Mike Brey, coach of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, who falls squarely into the third quadrant: bad looking, bad dresser. Need I really say anything more than Mock T? With his slicked-back hair and sleepy eyes, Brey has the look of a villain—a relentlessly positive, encouraging villain, if you’ve ever listened to his post-game interviews. Truth be told, Mike Brey is a nice guy, but he just needs some guidance when it comes to his wardrobe. If you can believe it, Brey’s bio photo on the Notre Dame website features him in a black sports coat with a navy blue shirt underneath. Hello…NAVY with black??? Ann Taylor is turning in her grave. Another staple of Mike Brey’s wardrobe is the drab brown jacket with the black mock turtleneck underneath. Some people, and by some I mean very few, can pull off a light jacket with a dark shirt, but it’s a rare occurrence. And as far as I know, nobody can pull it off when said dark shirt is a mock turtleneck, and said light jacket is perennially unbuttoned.

Next up we have Rick Pitino, esteemed coach of the Louisville Cardinals. Pitino, in my opinion, falls into the “not as good looking and good dressers” quadrant of our fashion diagram. Some of you may disagree, claiming that he is both good looking and a good dresser, but I believe that Pitino has come to be regarded as good looking over the years precisely because of his peerless fashion sense, proving the quote he likes to sign with his autographs: “There is no substitute for hard work.” Well Rick, if you’re lucky enough (which you’re not) good looks can be a substitute for hard work. Pitino is best known for his white suits, which Desmond has featured on this blog before, and for the expertly-folded handkerchiefs that are usually peeking out of his jacket’s breast pocket. This photo tells it all.

Roy Williams, national champion coach extraordinaire, is the subject of our next fashion analysis. Considering our diagram, Willams is one of few coaches who fall into that elusive quadrant: good looking and good dresser. Some of you may disagree again, claiming that Williams is not much of a looker. However, I think that Roy Williams is not always considered among the better-looking coaches simply because he is not a young man. Williams is almost sixty, and he has aged remarkably well. With his classy silver hair, rimless glasses, and year-round tan, Roy Williams has a look of dapper health about him, and his well-chosen suits only accentuate his dignified yet down to earth aura. The owner of the retailer where Williams buys many of his suits explains, “Roy Williams has his own sense of style. He shops with us often but he already knows what he likes and doesn't like. He wears classic and very stylish peek lapel single-breasted suits by Canali and Hickey Freeman, and he loves pocket squares or ties in Carolina light blue. He's a basketball coach that understands clothing.” Well said, Mr. Stockton. The only downside of Williams’ fashion sense is that at one point he became a bit too confident in his fashion savvy, attempting to pull off the light coat dark jacket combo that I already berated Mike Brey for above. As you can see, even Roy Boy can’t pull off the look very well.

Speaking of older coaches, it’s time to move onto a less-beloved basketball mind, one that led his team to a mind-boggling 0-18 start in Big East play this season, only to win the big one against Cincinnati in the first round of the conference tournament. Yes, I’m speaking of the one and only Jerry Wainwright, coach of the DePaul Blue Demons. Wainwright’s fashion sense can be described the same way as his team’s record this season: less than stellar. Way less. From the first time I saw Wainwright on the sidelines in the Joyce Center, I knew this was a man even more securely in the bad looking, bad dresser quadrant than Mike Brey. From his gauche tweed jackets and khaki pants, to his palm studded ties, to his oversized polos when he’s not on the sidelines, to his generally dumpy look, it doesn’t get much worse than Jerry Wainwright. His suits are surely purchased from Burlington Coat Factory, though I couldn’t get any confirmation on this. In his favor, I will say that the lack of class in Jerry’s appearance can lend an air of coziness and comfort to his persona, perhaps conjuring up in players and fans the same sense of being one of the guys that we all get from Charlie Weis’s gametime sweatsuits. However, this is meager praise, and this image sums up my general thoughts on Jerry Wainwright’s looks and style.

(Wright's thank you to Gabe at D'Annunizo & Battistoni Clothiers)

The last coach I will analyze is none other than Jay Wright, who coached his 3 seeded Villanova squad to the Final Four in this year’s tournament, breaking the hearts of Pitt fans along the way. But I can’t hold Wright’s Pitt win against him as I analyze his fashion sense. And even if I could, Jay Wright would easily maintain his spot as perhaps both the best looking and best dressed coach in college basketball. As one of the pundits writes, Wright has “movie star looks and a wardrobe that would rival any in Tinsel Town.” Wright’s I-talian suits are custom-made at D’Annunzio & Battistoni Clothiers, which boasts the following about its hand-crafted fashion for men: “There is nothing that compares to dressing in custom-made. Nothing. The comfort that comes from owning a piece of excellently crafted clothing, the uniquely ‘you’ feel that comes from wearing it, and the quiet confidence that comes from knowing that there is no one in the room better dressed... and that, while fashion may come and go, your piece of custom clothing will never go out of style.” Jay is known for his four-button, three piece suits, which tend to stay buttoned during the game, until the sweet smell of victory wafts over to the sidelines, and then onto the court.

Looking uncannily like George Clooney, it’s not surprising that Jay Wright is a multiple winner of GQ’s annual Fashionable Four, a contest to see who’s the best-dressed coach in college basketball. As one blogger writes, “Villanova games don’t have to be in High Definition—Jay Wright makes the TV look better.” And if you have any doubts about Jay Wright’s good looks and fashion sense, just see how good he looks next to yours truly and a certain Lyddie Cate, who’s pretty sure she’s found her Mr. Wright.

Well, that’s all from Fashion Annie, as they call me on the runway. Until next year!

0201