#001 The Mod Issue: Fred Perry, Jazz and Subculture at Large

Appreciate the patience lazy people. Turns out we're not the morning type. In the inaugural Lazy Man Newsletter, you've got some bangers to look forward to.

Fred Perry: The Uniform of the Non-Uniform

by Harry Meadows

Fred Perry is a name synonymous with Mod subculture, adopted by musicians, artists and youth of every generation. Through collaborations with the likes of The Specials, Amy Winehouse and Raf Simons, it maintains a reputation across generations as the smartest and most interesting brand to come out of modern Britain. Its story is one of substance, as well as style, and there is no more enduring symbol of its cultural impact than the twin-tipped M12 polo.

Before we dive into the iconic M12, we have to start at the beginning. His eight grand slam titles make Fred Perry Britain’s most successful tennis player, but his crowning glory came in 1952, upon the release of the M3 polo shirt that bore his name. Plain white, collared and with a laurel wreath over the heart, Fred had produced a clean-cut alternative to the cumbersome ‘sportswear’ of the day, without compromising on style.

Within several years, the brand had branched out, emboldening their polos with a twin tipped collar. This cutting edge was not the only thing that Fred Perry had been pioneering. Sometime in the 1930s, Fred asked to train with Arsenal to stay fit in the winter months. He trained with the first XI every day and ran hundreds of laps of their training ground. Their training, tactics and technique had made Arsenal the champions of England and the addition of the tennis star to their sessions could be said to be Fred Perry’s first collaboration. The intensity of his training and his commitment to the game made him one of the first athletes to stay fit during the off-season, setting what is now the standard of professional sport.

This association with football would prove to be an enduring one. The story goes that in fifties Picadilly, a West Ham United fan wandered into sportswear shop Lilywhites and wondered if Fred Perry’s M12 polo could be adorned with the colours of his beloved football club. The store got in contact with Fred and, with his approval duly given, so was born the first variation of the M12. The White/Ice/Maroon iteration has been on sale ever since and has led to the countless variations on the black and white classic that we have all known and loved.

Born in Stockport as the son of a cotton spinner, Fred found he had more room for expression in the working man’s game, rather than the gentleman’s sport of tennis, which always struggled to accept him as one of their own.

In what now seems an unlikely side quest, his close ties to the footballing world took him on to the continent in the sixties, where he began designing kits for Belgian clubs Anderlecht, Club Bruges and Standard Liège. Anderlecht were wearing Fred’s kit when they defeated Real Madrid in 1962, a result that echoed around the football world. Their badge sat proudly beneath the buttons of the polo, with the victorious laurel wreath on the left. The white and royal purple club colours synergised with the regal simplicity of the shirt; football kit expert and historian say that Fred’s Belgian designs ‘perfectly straddle the dual process of effectiveness on the pitch and style off it.’

The adoption of Fred’s M12 by the working class meant it was only a matter of time before it became tied up in the identity of the mods. The mod movement came from working class kids wanting to look better and live better than their parents. The United Kingdom was in a state of drastic decline in the years after the war – food was still being rationed when Fred’s shirts were being hung in London shop windows. Pete Meaden, a mod on the scene in late fifties London, described the culture as ‘clean living under difficult circumstances’. This meant wearing clothes that were made to fit and made a statement.

Whilst there were film stars and musicians taking these looks to their most suave extremes on mainland Europe and across the Atlantic, for most kids in post war Britain, owning a made-to-measure Italian suit was a fantasy. With its growing range of colour matches, Fred Perry’s smartly trimmed tees could top off a pair of leather pumps and neatly pressed trousers to achieve a clean cut finish at an affordable price. The Fred Perry fit demonstrated this desire to dress the best, reflected in the laurel wreath over the heart – also representative of Fred’s own journey from Stockport to dating Hollywood stars.

With the individual flourishes of the coloured twin tips, Fred’s design struck the perfect balance of providing the wearer with a sense of identity, whilst also allowing room for individual moods and expression. Those who might label themselves a mod would only need a nice pair of bottom ends, some smart trousers and a wardrobe of variations on the M13 to have all their looks covered.

We now live in a time of more changeable trends and transient fashions, that move in and slip out of the mainstream within a matter of months. The reason the legacy of mod style is so strong is because of its working-class roots. For most of us growing up, we might be lucky enough to have a few nice shirts and a couple of nice pairs of trousers to whack on when we wanted to look good on a Friday night. The M13 was an investment in our look in the years to come – a small outlay that we didn’t mind paying, because it showed that we had made the effort.

You might think this look is too easy or too safe and yes, it can be dull and uninspired. But with the right ensemble; a pair of dark trousers, smart shoes and a pressed polo is style at its purest and it is an appreciation that spans generations.

Speaking to the Guardian a couple of years ago, Fred Perry’s brand editor, Dominique Fenn, said, ‘sometimes, when you go to a gig, it’s not just the people on stage wearing it, it’s the roadies, it’s the guy behind the bar, it’s the crowd. In my first couple of weeks at Fred Perry, we did a live gig with the Specials, and, honestly, I felt like I’d joined a cult. It was that bizarre.’ This summarises what being a mod means to people. Sporting your M13 is not just a fashion statement. It carries the undercurrent of UK culture with it, marking you out as a person of interest, donning what the company itself calls ‘the uniform of the non-uniform’.

Fenn mentions a gig with The Specials, a perfect touch stone for the brand’s constant conversation with the people that have helped to shape its reputation. The Specials blended influences from a multicultural society into their music, with their frontman, the late Terry Hall, always being snapped in his Fred tee or V—neck. Whilst the ska outfit can’t be said to be a mod band, they chimed with the mood of the post war generation, producing records that commented on social justice and melded a variety of styles.

In 2019, the brand collaborated with the recently re-formed Specials for the fortieth anniversary of -their self-titled debut album. This produced a delicious version of the M13, white and adorned with black and grey block colouring, the band’s name in block capitals along the bottom right and classic black twin tips. Even though Fred perry had been Japanese-run since the tennis legend’s death in the nineties, such linkups have ensured its continued relevance, drawing on their roots in the musical explosion of sixties and seventies Britain.

The Fred polo has also stayed at the top of the game by being opened to new designers of new generations. Belgian designer, Raf Simons, now in charge of designer at Prada, has frequently jumped aboard the Fred Perry barge. His most recent collaboration produced a beautiful polo shirt, all black with embossed F.P. initials in serif on the left sleeve. The message of ‘standardise obscene content’ on the back is perhaps a nod to the underground influences that have transformed the brand from sportswear to the country’s number one streetwear.

Ultimately, however, the brand’s authenticity is key to its ongoing success. The Fred Perry tennis trust provides free community coaching across various UK cities. The company donates £100,000 a year to each of The Music Venue Trust and The Museum of Youth Culture. From its Amy Winehouse collection, they also donate 20% of their sales revenue, raising over £2,000,000 to support young people and provide safe spaces for women.

As a lad who spent his entire adolescence in Fred Perry’s M13s, I felt a part of something meaningful. Like the West Ham fan who wore it with his club colours every weekend or the bloke who zooms to a Paul Weller gig with his sunnies on and collar up, you feel a participant in your own history, but more importantly, you look good.

The Fred Perry M13 is the suit of the street, designed by a working-class lad and made by the youth of every generation.

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The Mod Pipeline - How Jazz Inspired a Subculture

by Tom Mancini

Nowadays, jazz has rep for being uptight and pretentious. Like classical and caviar, it's for a 'refined palate', an audience that knows its merlot from its vintage merlot (if that's how wine works).

This hasn’t always been the case. In the mid-century, jazz was rebellious, a symbol of Black America finding its voice at a time of silence and segregation. It was frenetic, free-flowing – performers improvised, ad-libbed, and reimagined the sound as hard bop, progressive, Soul jazz. If you wanted to try something new, you could, there were no bounds to the genre.

Today, artists are reclaiming this identity. Look at Yusef Dayes or Ezra Collective – the energy of Parker, Coltrane and Davis runs through their music. Take some time to listen to 'The Yussef Dayes Experience – Live From Malibu'. It is, for lack of a better term, a vibe.

The set is full of improv, with saxophonist, drummer, keyboardist and guitarist all in perfect harmony.

It's this vitality - this freedom - that appealed to the early Mod. Post-War, post-conscription, post-rations, Britain was in boom, and its youth needed a way to express its swinging spirit. Young modernists would spend their nights in London's Soho, trying to get into Ronnie Scott's, The Blue Lagoon or The Flamingo Club, in threads borrowed from the wardrobes of their idols. The latter – Wardour Street's Flamingo – was a magnet for Mods, an unofficial clubhouse for the who's who of the subculture. At it's peak in the late '50s, the basement club was teaming with Italian suits and 'Slim Jim' ties, and the small dancefloor a ground to wish the night away to imported tunes. At the time, it only sold soft drinks, but that was enough for the Modernist – it was the tunes they were chasing, after all.

Best put by 'Mod God' Pete Meaden, (and referenced by my esteemed colleague Mr. H.J Meadows) the culture was 'clean living under difficult circumstances'. It was a way for working class kids to cultivate their image, to show they could be suave and sophisticated by donning a suit and spinning a jazz record. That's why Miles Davis and co (check the Instagram for more info) became such favourites. They showed what self-expression looked like. You didn't need a quiff; you didn't need a leather jacket – a tailored shirt and buckled trousers would do.  

So, how did they get the Modernist tag? Well, they weren't art afficionados or architecture purists, that's for sure – the title was borrowed from Modern Jazz, marrying sound and subculture from minute one. Not to get all etymology with you, but Mod arrived later, as the style evolved and welcomed some other genres from across the pond: ska, blues and two-tone, to name a few.

This was the great shift in the subculture. Into the 1960s, Mod turned their attention to the continent, borrowing from trends in Italy and France as opposed to the USA. With the rise of The Who, Mod's had their Messi, a rock band who understood their angst and frustration, and jazz fell to the wayside. Or so it may seem.

Before they were stylised with thick 'burns and British flags, The Who were known as High Numbers, and tapped rhythm and blues in their debut single 'Zoot Suit/I'm The Face'. Interestingly enough, their boss was Peter Meaden, who advocated for the change. And when they made the 'ol switcheroo back to The Who, the influence of jazz could still be felt – listen to 'The Sea' off Quadrophenia, and you'll get what I mean.

Right – we get you might not see the connection between jazz and The Who, but you can’t miss it in the music of Paul Weller. The spirit of jazz lives on in his discography. You can see it in the style of The Jam – just check the cover of In the City, and you'll spot a few clean black suits. Their records – not so much.  

The Style Council, however. That's a different story. While The Jam are defined by their Britishness, Weller's later outfit wears soul on its sleeve.

The Modfather makes plenty of specific references throughout his work, too – 'Song for Alice' off 2008's '22 Dreams' celebrates the life is and legacy of Alice Coltrane, and 'Drifters', penned with Ocean Colour Scene's Steve Craddock, is indebted to her husband John.

The vespas, the tailoring, the shoes – Mod will always be associated with cool. But know that it was borrowed from jazz. It’s essence is jazz.

Check the pipeline. Modern Jazz - Modernist - Mod.

Daltry and Weller knew so – as should you.

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This is the Modern World - The Death of British Subcultures

by Liam Turner

When done right, subcultures are a beautiful thing. A group of like-minded people with interests and beliefs that may stray from the norm, providing individuals with ample room to express their ideas in a safe environment. However, in our increasingly homogenised world, are these cultural phenomena becoming a thing of the past? In keeping with this week’s Lazy Man theme, I will be exploring what it means to be a Mod and whether the expanding global culture is killing that feeling of being apart of something greater than yourself.

Let’s kick this off with some background on what it was to be a Mod. Post-war, conscription, and rationing Britain, teenagers were filled with a new sense of optimism, as well as more disposable income than generations beforehand. It’s no surprise that this was fully taken advantage of, with mods creating an underground youth culture full of vim and vigour. Calling themselves the modernists due to their love of modern jazz, the mods could often be seen in a select group of nightclubs throughout the city, particularity in SoHo. Their interest in fashion was characterised by flecklessly fitted Italian suits, taking inspiration from Italian icons such as Marcello Mastroianni and Ugo Tognazzi. Adding to the effortless brashness of Mod fashion was the scooter, typically the Vespa or Lambretta. The more mirrors the better, and for no other reason than that it was undeniably different. Every subculture needs something that makes it stand out, and one of those things for the Mods was a Vespa with numerous wing mirrors. Slim-fitting suits, of course, looked the part, but they were not always the most practical option. The more casual look donned by the mod was, of course the iconic parka, some clean-cut fitted trousers, and a patterned shirt of your choice. Think of Mod fashion as a uniform, reflecting the societal beliefs of the subculture. Taking the streamlined style of African American musicians such as Miles Davies and mixing it with the unequivocally cool and classy look of Italian and French actors, anyone could be a Mod, regardless of race or class.

Subcultures are not only defined by fashion but also by music, and that’s something the mods took on better than most. Symbolising the essence of diversity, Mods took inspiration from a cosmic array of music. Drawing from the infectious melodies of blues, the contagious beat of ska, and the immersive energy of rock, the sound of the mods takes in influence and audiences from far and wide. The unique thing about the Mod soundtrack was its willingness to break free from the shackles of genre constraints. This allows the genre to evolve over time, a key factor in the subculture’s longevity. This longevity is highlighted in its music, from bands like The Who touring in the 60s, to The Jam playing to a packed-out crown in Paris in 1979 and even in the contemporary, with artists like Jake Bugg and Miles Kane clearly taking influence from the subculture.

The Mods are just one of many British subcultures that have had a lasting impact on fashion, music, and culture more generally. So, what is happening? This may just be my perception of the modern world (without trying to sound like a grumpy gammon), but it feels to me that the world has become more homogenised. In the social media era, trends move quickly. One week it’s New Orders ‘Blue Monday’, the next it’s ‘Carnival’ by Ye. Every week, a new song takes centre stage on social media. In this modern world, there’s not enough time to establish a fully formed subculture with its own stylistic choices and unique sound. You find something on social media you like, and a few days later the algorithm moves on. Simply put, the alternative gets swallowed up by the mainstream, and vice versa. Our sense of belonging has now completely dissipated from our cultural outlook. Perhaps a part of this is the divide that the rise of the new left/new right has created. The complexities of navigating life in a late capitalist society have been reduced to a simplistic binary: you’re either a right-wing fascist or a left-wing ‘wokelord’. This oversimplification eliminates the nuance and diverse perspective that should exist in our understanding of society. The debasement of the civil fabric brought about by the age of digital technology has drastically changed youth culture. When once a subculture had to be sought out, social media allows one to assimilate the mere aesthetic of a subculture without truly understanding its beliefs, music, language, or the work it takes to be part of it. The fundamental imperative of belonging to a subculture is the feeling of being part of something larger than oneself—a group where individuals find love, trust, and a sense of belonging. This tribalism, the need to belong, has been a vital part of human civilisation. The feeling of tribalism is perfectly summed up by the ModFather himself, who once stated, “I’m still a mod, I’ll always be a mod; you can bury me a mod." That feeling of belonging—so much so that Weller wants to be buried on this scooter. Apart from the tribalism of sport, which will most likely live on forever, what cultural phenomenon would Gen Z feel strongly enough to be away from their sense of self, even in death?

This leads me nicely onto the counterargument. Is this necessarily a bad thing? As previously mentioned, subcultures are tribal. You almost sell your sense of individuality to be a part of something wider. The death of the subculture allows you to pick and choose, carefully curating your own sense of individuality from parts of former and current cultural trends. When once an individual was packaged as just one thing with tastes and style set in stone, there is now more scope for a person to explore anything and everything that may peak their interests. One may subscribe to the principles of Mod culture but doesn’t anymore have to define their entire social identity to it; it’s now okay to listen to The Who AND Gene Vincent. During the Mods vs. Rockers era, this would have been considered blasphemy. I must admit, despite my old man moaning in the previous paragraph, I do enjoy this new fluid form of tribalism that creates opportunities for cultural experimentation. Of course, that sense of belonging to a subculture is a wonderful thing, but maybe being more open-minded and willing to try new things (while at the same time being mindful of your own beliefs) will eventually dissipate that feeling of ‘us versus them’.

Or maybe I’ve been waffling this whole time, and there are readers out there who feel part of something bigger or couldn’t care less that they don’t? As you’ve probably grasped, I love the idea of being part of a community full of like-minded people with similar interests – hence the newsletter.