Go Big or Go Home

Pearl button snaps dress up a shirt, which might strike some as unusual. Cowboys are famously taciturn, so why would they want to dress flashy? The answer lies in the history of the Western shirt. The original Western shirts were long-sleeved with reinforced stitching. Long sleeves provided functionality, and extra reinforced stitching increased durability. 

During World War II, a West Coast dreamer named Jack A. Weil, who would later name his son and successor Jack B. Weil, observed a Chinese tailor using glove buttons on a shirt. Weil loved the idea, but not the execution. He thought he could mass-produce Western shirts with snaps, but that was a dream deferred because wartime industrialization meant that there was no supply. After the war, Weil took his idea to Colorado, where he founded the Rockmount Shirt Company, now Rockmount Ranch Wear, and talked his way into a supply deal. Soon, he was making and selling many “fancy shirts.”

The pearl snaps were not just there for looks. Cowboys dread getting hung up or tangled with anything. It is not an annoyance; it is an occupational hazard. Snap shirts are much easier to release than button shirts. 

Rockmount went on to great success. One key was marrying Hollywood to the cowboy. The male stars wore Rockmount in The Misfits. Pretty soon, it became clear that cowboys did not mind adornment on their shirts if it turned them into Clark Gable with Marilyn Monroe on their arm.

Let’s define the term. Guyaberas are four-pocket, two-pleat shirts, often featuring embroidery. They can be short or long sleeves, but short sleeves predominates in Texas. Guyaberas are typically made from cotton, linen, or a blend of the two. While Guyaberas have a 100% Hispanic origin story, the precise beginning is hazy. 

The Mexican version is also known as the “Mexican Wedding Shirt.” The alternate nicknames demonstrate how perfectly the Guyabera anticipated Texas style. The four pockets allow the wearer to keep his hands free, the soft, light fabrics are perfect for the heat, and the styling suits a meeting on the ranch grounds, cocktail hour, or, as the name says, a wedding. It is worth noting that there is a vast difference in the quality of Guyaberas, depending on materials and craftsmanship. 

Merida on the Yucatan Peninsula produces some of the best Guyaberas. Texas Ten also heartily recommends Penner’s in San Antonio, which has been providing wedding shirts to Bexar County kings and peasants for generations. 

Anglos in Texas have done their fair share of cultural appropriation, particularly with food and drink. The Guyabera completes the picture. South Texans of every stripe think nothing of having a Margarita or a Dos Equis while clad in a Guyabera on a Saturday evening. You cannot be more relaxed than that. What a melting pot.

Rodeo athletes are incredibly skilled and even more fearless. I would love to buy a flashy rodeo belt buckle, but that would be close to “stolen valor.” Buckles are commonly the trophies awarded to winners of rodeo events. Given that it is even money whether I can make it to the end of a carousel ride, the mismatch seems too big.

The story of how this came to be is intriguing. Buckles, as a clothing concept, originated in the military, where soldiers first used buckles to secure pieces of armor together.  Europeans, being Europeans, began to decorate their buckles to convey wealth, status, and affiliation. The process repeated itself in America. When the cavalry arrived, so did buckles. At first, they were merely functional. Cowboys much appreciated them as they transitioned to jeans with belt loops in place of suspenders. 

Once again, enter Hollywood. As directors began to build the cowboy into a larger-than-life icon, they sought larger-than-life costumes. Flashy, oversized belt buckles were a natural. Buckles now carry the weight of achievement and/or sentiment, so the bigger and flashier, the better. It is all in fun, but I wouldn’t wear a Super Bowl ring, so I am not going to wear something that suggests I conquered eight seconds of terror. But hats off to those who do.

And speaking of oversized, the High School Mum is a lovely tradition that may be entirely out of control. For the uninitiated, mum is short for chrysanthemum. In the 1950s and 1960s, a young man would give his date a clipped chrysanthemum adorned with short ribbons in school colors as a type of corsage for fall weekends and homecoming weekends in particular. It was a nice gesture and probably served the additional good of reminding non-players in the stands that you were talking to the middle linebacker’s girlfriend. In high school, it is vital to stay in your lane.

The tradition originated in Texas, and as is often the case, we cannot help ourselves. The size and complexity of the mum have grown geometrically. When we were in high school in the late 1970s, a “double mum” was worthy of lunch table conversation. There was some ulterior motivation associated with the double mum giving, most likely an attempt to regain her good graces following some boneheaded decision by a teenage boy. Today, a double mum is basically an insult.

Homecoming week now produces mums mounted on plexiglass and adorned with reminders of every activity the young lady ever tried out for. They weigh upwards of twenty pounds and cost hundreds of dollars. As a reminder, those figures are not insignificant percentages of the recipient’s body weight and the giver’s wealth. The flowers are now often fake, and mum production has shifted to for-profit florists instead of school fundraisers. Ugh.

Still, at the bottom of it all is a teenage boy with ulterior motives and a teenage girl with dreams of romance, now separated by a plexiglass wall as a defense mechanism. On second thought, I can see the logic–the bigger the better!

As you get older, “fashion” looks suspiciously close to “recycling.” “ Everything old is new again” is more than a song from a musical. The recent trend of pairing cowboy boots with either shorts or a short skirt appears to have no precedent, as far as we can tell. We are probably like everyone else over 40 on this issue (along with many others) — confused. It shouldn’t work like chicken and waffles shouldn’t work. However, chicken and waffles work, and we think that shorts and boots work as well.

That is not to say we would eat chicken and waffles every day. Boots and shorts work in small doses and at the right time. Evenings at parties and daytime at big events, like football games, provide the perfect backdrop.  In other words, high energy means yes,  intimate settings, proceed carefully. Also, let’s be honest here. If you wear this combination, people will look at your legs. That is the point, actually. So be confident in your legs. Within those guidelines, the answer to whether shorts and boots is a “bold fashion statement or a mismatch?” is that Texas fortune favors the bold. 

Denim did not originate in Texas; it is actually French (surprised!–the City of Nimes or “de Nimes.” Get it?). It changed the fashion world and, really, the world. Durability and comfort were once non-overlapping, but denim jeans changed all that. Of course, (spoiler alert) jean pants are the first thing people think of when considering denim and fashion.

Although thousands of denim manufacturers exist, Levi Strauss products have had an outsized impact on the field of denim fashion. That is true of the denim jacket, as explained in detail by fashion-as-art influencer Sam Trotman. The short story is that youthful rebellion in the form of movie stars and rock legends made a working man’s jacket too cool for school. No better example exists than Paul Newman in the Texas classic, Hud.

Indeed, the denim jacket is made for Texas. We need outerwear that is tough and durable, yet lightweight enough to allow for the heat. We also believe, without a shred of scientific evidence, that jean jackets serve the wind-cutting function better than any other outer garment. As for cool, Alright, alright, alright, is all we have to say.

While the whole field owes its existence to Levi’s, we particularly like the Schaeffer Legend pictured above. (Not a paid endorsement; we just like it.) The leather collar dresses it up just slightly, and without the fleece or fur, which confuses the issue. We feel like you can wear the Schaeffer without risk of transparently trying to look like Paul or Matthew, while still hoping you do.

Famed Western author Louis L’Amour gave the sage advice that if you wanted the law to leave you alone, “keep your hair trimmed and your boots shined.”  A pair of custom cowboy boots is likely to be shined, so avoiding legal entanglements is a good starting point.

The truth is that custom-made boots are high on many Texans’ wish lists for other reasons. Start with fit. Cowboy boots are supposed to be comfortable; after all, boots are for work. Far too many people ignore that fact and end up with a closet full of doorstops. Mass-produced boots can check the comfort box–I have a pair of Tecovas that feel like slippers. Feet, however, are odd and refuse to grow uniformly. So finding a supremely comfortable boot can be hit or miss. With a custom boot, you put the doorstop question to rest. 

When you open that pocketbook, you do so for the bootmaker and for the materials. Custom boots last a lifetime, so durability is a big plus.

But if we are being completely honest, the real reason for custom boots is to get people to look at them. Custom boots make a statement, and you get to author it. This is particularly true for women, as they often showcase the upper part of the boot.  Custom boots can be scenic, fun, logo-driven, or just damn good-looking. Our preference is for the latter—enough to be different, but not so much as to be over the top.

With that in mind, you might earn the ultimate boot compliment. It starts with the question “Where’d you get the boots?” No matter how much you spent on them and your desire to name-drop a particular maker, the answer is just “Had’em done.” The compliment is the nod you get in response. Some day, we’ll get that nod–shortly after we win the lottery or lose our senses.

They are back, in a big way! Mexican clothing developed over centuries, featuring vibrant colors, intricate embroidery, and symbolism. So when we Anglos refer to the “Mexican Dress,” we short-circuit centuries of culture. There is a ton of nuance missing here, as evidenced by the variety of styles offered. Thus, the Texas Ten definition of “the Mexican Dress” is an open-neck, short-sleeve dress of medium length, with colorful embroidery, made from cotton for comfort and maximum cuteness. Hey, we write about Texas and have no interest in auditioning for Anna Wintour. 

The male half of Texas Ten has a particular interest in the Mexican Dress because it was ubiquitous during puberty. According to the theory of animal imprinting, we form a deep connection to that which promotes the survival of the species. The female half of Texas Ten loves them because she has fashion sense. 

All that aside, the Mexican Dress is a near-perfect piece of clothing. Comfortable yet stylish enough for work or a restaurant. There is a tremendous variety within the genre, so your Mexican Dress is not her Mexican Dress. And at the opposite end of the cost spectrum from custom boots. What is not to love, and we are glad they are all the rage again.

Levis are awesome, and the proliferation of “high-end” jeans has produced an avalanche of worthwhile brands. But the jeans of Texas are Wranglers. We do not know the sales figures, but Wranglers are so identified with rodeo that a state that treasures cowboys and cowgirls as we do has no choice.

The classic W on both back pockets has been the focus of so many “cowboy leaning on a fence” pictures that it has become a cliché, although M’Lissa never tires of it. And cliches are cliches because they are true.

The connection is no accident. In the 1940s, Wrangler was a subsidiary of the Blue Bell Overall Company. The jeans were already in favor among rodeo cowboys, but the endorsement from Jim Shoulders set the relationship in cement. Shoulders was a rodeo prodigy who grew up in the city, had zero training, and somehow started winning competitions from his first entry. Tough as nails, he ended his career with 16 world titles. Whatever Jim did in the rodeo world was copied, and Jim wore Wranglers. Soon, everybody else did too. And speaking of setting something in concrete, Wranglers did it again when it adopted Wrangler-wearing George Strait as its lead endorser after Shoulders died. 

We are particular to the dress-up Wrangler, dark blue and pressed. It takes the comfort of the working man’s pants to other places, mainly the dance floor. For those still looking, a good-fitting pair of Wranglers is key to getting her to say yes to a dance when you hear the first strains of Amarillo by Morning. It is up to you to get her mind off King George and focused on you.

Necessity is the mother of invention. Believe it or not, the original hat of the West was the sort of coonskin contraption that Davy Crockett wore. Stetson recognized the hat’s numerous shortcomings in dealing with the storms that rolled through the Rockies as he prospected for gold around Pike’s Peak. He developed the wide-brim and tall crown that became so famous to keep the rain off his face. 

Stetson’s workmates laughed at his “contraption” until a passing cowboy paid him five dollars for it. Stetson had found his gold mine. He returned to Philadelphia and borrowed $60 from his sister. The rest is history, all the way up to Lyle Lovett claiming his John B. Stetson as his only friend.

What Stetson started, many others have modified. We don’t mean to say that you need to wear a Stetson, or that model of Stetson. By all means, choose the hat that sits just right on your head. Just like custom boots, a custom hat is a lifelong investment. But whether it is a Stetson, a Cameron Morris special, or an off-the-rack from Cavender’s, know that when you wear it outside the borders, people are going to look at you and say to themselves, “must be from Texas.”