Dapper Days at the Historical Society

A visitor who strolls into New-York Historical Society's gift shop might do a double-take upon meeting Anthony Reyes. The friendly 32-year-old sales associate wears Victorian and Edwardian clothing with panache - balanced with a nonchalance with which most people throw on a pair of jeans and sneakers. His splendiferous sartorial style extends to the accoutrements of a well-heeled gentleman, from cravats to watch fobs, often carefully mixed with contemporary items.

"I like antiques with functionality," he said. "I can use my walking sticks to get through a crowd in Midtown, I can tell time with my pocket watches, and I can keep my head warm and not wear a baseball cap." His favorite top hat once belonged to Cornelius Vanderbilt's younger brother, Jacob.

Customers who see the cut of his turn-of-the-century frock coat may not quite put their finger on its uniqueness, but they recognize that it's something special, Mr. Reyes said. He is often asked, "Are you an actor" His standard response: "No, I'm just dramatic."

One day this week he came to work wearing trousers from around 1900, a vest of myrtle green serge with blue steel suspender buttons, a double Albert English pocket watch chain, rose gold and garnet cufflinks from the 1860s, and an 1890s stick pin bearing a knot motif. At the recent NYHS gala, he held a silver-capped walking stick made of oak. "I'm happiest in white tie and tails," he said. He owns eight white neckties.

Mr. Reyes's interest in clothing started early. When he was about 4 or 5, his great-uncle, who worked in publishing, gave him a copy of Bram Stoker's "Dracula" illustrated with photos of Bela Lugosi. "That was the beginning of my interest in clothing that I didn't see in 1970s New York."

He bought his first piece for the high school prom in 1990: a 1929 tailcoat. He discovered the date and the original owner's name on the inside and was hooked.

His father, now semi-retired, once worked for Bank of New York in the microfilm department; his mother is a secretary at Taft High School in the Bronx.

Born of Puerto Rican ancestry in a housing project in the Bronx, Mr. Reyes attended the borough's Harry S. Truman high school. He dropped out, but earned his GED in short order. He went on to help found a center for gay and lesbian youth called the Neutral Zone in 1992. Afterward, he worked as a receptionist at a company that made nylon sponges before finding a job at Caswell-Massey, "America's Oldest Chemist and Perfumers." He joined the NYHS in August 1998.

His interest in antique clothes is not just about external image. "What I wear represents my insides," a love of tradition and quality, and a sense of organization and civilization. He said, "I'm not going for a reaction."

Even on the hottest days of the year, he wears at least one antique clothing article. "In the summer, I tend to wear more recent pieces" since summer clothing from the mid-19th century is often delicate.

His collection consists of approximately 550 pieces. "My whole apartment - I consider it storage," he said of his two-bedroom in the Williamsbridge section of the Bronx. Most date from the 1870s to 1930s but go as far back as 1770s. He owns 10 overcoats, some with fur collars, some wool, some Chesterfields. He has a black opera cape that weighs about 15 pounds with a midnight-blue velvet collar, which is very Bram Stoker, he said. Thirty of his day shirts boast detachable collars that he often steams and starches himself. His 50 or so vests range from black tuxedo to all-white summer varieties.

He outbid a fellow New Yorker in an eBay auction to purchase a silk satin-and-wool vest with glass buttons. But for the past eight years, he has been buying many of his garments from a Chelsea dealer named Quincy Kirsch. He calls her "my muse."

His hat collection includes turbans, pith helmets, fezzes, boaters, panamas, bowlers, and dusters - plus top hats. "You can never have enough top hats." To round out his millinery selection there are homburgs, and a couple of seal fur Alaskan hats to boot. "These are now protected animals and rightly so," he added.

Then there are driving goggles (the kind one might strap on while riding in an exposed automobile). He replaced the clear lenses of his two pair of pince nez with tinted ones to use as sunglasses.

Walking sticks rest in an 1880s black walnut stand that can accommodate up to 30 canes of various diameters. This is very important, he said, because they vary with the season. In the summer, they are thin and lightweight. In the winter, one uses a heavier stick to trudge through snow and sleet.

He said some of his best garments have come from attics in New Jersey; he cited a Civil War-era gentlemen's frock coat as an example. A number of pristine finds have come from the desert states, where the dry climate preserves fragile fibers.

Antique men's clothing can be rarer than women's clothing, he said. Men often didn't save clothing or wore their things until they were threadbare.

Working-class articles are often more difficult to find than upper-class ones; they were even less frequently conserved. He does own an outfit worn by someone who worked on the Pennsylvania Railroad. A denim farm jacket he owns was even used in a NYHS exhibition about sewing in America, called, "Home Sewn."

His ultimate find, he said, would be an 18th-century men's waistcoat - a precursor of the modern vest. The most expensive item is a black wool dress coat with silk-covered buttons. Its estimated value is about $1,500.

Asked if wearing this clothing was impractical, he said he finds wearing the clothes more comfortable and practical. Wearing a frock coat and vest, he said, allows him more pockets for his cell phone, Palm Pilot, and other 21st-century trappings. "I don't even have to carry a bag if I don't want to," he said.

Dressing as though for a royal occasion comes naturally to him. His name, Reyes, means king, and he was born on January 6, which is Three Kings Day. Eventually he would like to do some consulting in costume and theater.

How many New Yorkers carry a tape measure in their briefcase? "You never know when you'll bump into a piece that may fit."