The $110 Made-in-U.S.A. Polo That Curbed My Lacoste Obsession
Shop $110, hanover-usa.com
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I'm a uniform dresser. That's my life. I used to fight it because I didn't want to concede to dressing like every other kid in my Georgia town. But growing up for me was realizing there's nothing wrong with regressing, nothing wrong with dressing like your dad. Just because I wear the same boots, same jeans, same polo every day doesn't mean I'm adopting a Steve Jobs 100 of the same black turtleneck asceticism, nor does it mean I look like I'm on the SEC fraternity guy to Sea Island dad pipeline. Instead, it means that I've developed blind loyalty for the brands that fit said uniform.
The cowboy boots are Lucchese. The jeans are Wrangler . The jean jacket is RRL . The polos are Lacoste . But the polos found a challenger when Hanover came across my desk. The brand's raison d'être— to "make everyday essentials ... produced in Los Angeles with nothing priced over $300"—piqued my interest. But what got me really interested was seeing that the piqué polo is only $110, exactly on par with the two big-name brands with recognizable horse or crocodile left chest logos. And once I held the shirt, wore it, I was sold.
You might only be able to get them in a few colors right now, but this is a polo that is miles ahead of the big names. This is a polo that's made for uniform dressing.
Florence Sullivan
It's Made to Be Worn Every Day
The thing you notice stacking this guy up to a mass-produced shirt is the weight and the finishes. All the seams—especially the stitch on the shoulders—have a heft to them that you won't find on something more mass produced. The 14 oz. cotton piqué is more substantial than what any other brand is going to use. That takes away a touch of comfort when it's hot out, but we're still talking about the piqué fabric, which was sportswear when the tennis shirt was invented. If you hold it up to a light, you can still see through the shirt's weave, which means you'll still catch a breeze if it presents itself—I haven't had any trouble with it on a hot day.
Then, there are crucial details you might not think about as much. The two-button placket is a sweet spot, in my opinion. It looks good with one button, but if you go whole hog, you're not showing too much chest hair. Elsewhere, the hem is cut a bit longer than mass-produced polos, which makes it easier to keep tucked in. But it's not so long that you could never wear it untucked with a pair of jeans, and the hem splits at the hips to offer you a little more movement.
It all amounts to what I appreciate: a shirt that wants to be worn every day. It's made to be part of a uniform.
Shop $110, hanover-usa.com
Florence Sullivan
But It Still Looks and Feels High-End
Honestly, though, clearing the mass-produced polos isn't the highest bar in the world. When I originally wrote about how much I love Lacoste, guys in the comments were quick to tell me vintage made-in-France versions were better, but I can't think of anything more insane than buying a used polo shirt. I'll only entertain comparisons to other brand-new shirts.
And what surprises me about the Hanover polo is how it stacks up on the luxury end. I have another polo from a certain luxury brand that no one could stop talking about when "quiet luxury" and "old money" were the biggest trends on TikTok. The goal of either of these shirts is to be for my enjoyment only. It's about how the garment dye looks and how the piqué feels, not saying something outwardly with a logo. (To be fair, the Hanover polo has a logo—but it's tonal, and it took my wife weeks before she noticed it with a "Who is 'H' and why did she give you a shirt?" joke.) I prefer the $110 Hanover polo to the $600 high-end Italian one. It's just as inconspicuous, with a similarly beautiful garment dye. But it's that weight that helps it sit flatteringly, and I find the vintage Americana-inspired finishes to be more pleasant than the hyper-sleek Euro-wealth finishes.
So, now I've got this polo that has elbowed its way into my rotation. It wasn't a conscious choice. I didn't say "I'm going to be a Hanover guy," the same way Jack Dorsey said "I'm going to be a Rick Owens guy," but it's starting to command more and more of my brand loyalty. And since it's well-made, I don't see it getting unseated anytime soon. When I fully regress back to what my uniform says I should be—a father vacationing on Sea Island, drunk off Miller Lite, and making conversation about the Braves' bullpen—I'll probably still be wearing this damn shirt.
Shop $110, hanover-usa.com
Photographs by Florence Sullivan
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