During the post-war years, America’s social, cultural and generational divide could be read off the backs of people on the street. On one side, there were those Americans who, after returning from fighting in the trenches of Europe, were afforded a free college education through the GI Bill (also known as the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944). Through this socialization process, many in this group adopted bourgeoisie mores and became some version of Gregory Peck in the 1956 film “The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit.” They worked corporate jobs, raised families behind white picket fences, and wore sack suits with button-down collars and rep striped ties.
Conversely, there was the American underclass dressed in chambray shirts, work boots and motorcycle jackets, as well as a burgeoning countercultural movement of anti-authoritarian youths disillusioned by the system. These youths—concerned with love, war, religion, racism, and drugs—scoured secondary markets and old junk shops, looking for unusual pieces to create layered outfits that challenged the hegemony of traditional Western aesthetics. They wore Cowichan knits, yellow cotton muslin kaftans, woven floral ponchos, Navajo beadwork and purple shot silk waistcoats embellished with paisley embroidery. The look combined Western clothing with traditional garb from Afghan, Indian, Moroccan, Tibetan and Native American cultures, all mixed together with the power of psychedelics.
When Hendrix played for The Isley Brothers and Little Richard in the mid-1960s, he typically wore conventional suits; but when free from bandleaders, he was more flamboyant. His passport photo, issued in September 1966 when he was still a starving musician, shows him in a floral shirt with long collar points sweeping back over his shoulders. Once he formed The Jimi Hendrix Experience, he spent some of his newfound riches on black velvet jackets trimmed with ornate gold braiding, Afghan waistcoats, wispy silk neckerchiefs, Asian brocade jackets, and feathered floppy hats. At one point, while touring with the band Vanilla Fudge, he asked his tour-mates where they got their unusual clothes. “Our friend in Florida made them,” one of the members said. That’s how Hendrix met a lanky custom clothier named Michael Braun.
Hendrix started with a pair of ready-made pants from Braun, and enjoyed wearing them so much, he made the tailor the architect of his style. He bought bespoke ruffled shirts, cyan sets with a Japanese-style wrap-over front, fur vests, and jackets with wing-liked sleeves. Braun said the musician enjoyed wearing velvet pants, large flowing collars, and “sticky type buttons” (Hendrix’s charming term for Velcro). In a letter, Hendrix ordered “a white suit, maybe purple, or a fine black fur suit,” and suggested that Braun try adding stones and jewelry to the vest and trousers. Eventually, Hendrix fully entrusted his tailor and ordered omakase-style. “Any other things you may run across, please don’t hesitate to take and make something—anything to your fancy—so long as it’s specially made as art.”