Hockey’s first Olympics were the summer games in Antwerp in April of 1920, where the Winnipeg Falcons represented Canada, and won on our behalf. That March, The Toronto Star advised that the team would be sporting “jerseys instead of sweaters, as the weather will be too warm for the latter.” The colour — I’ve described that before as queasy mustard, though I believe that on the Pantone spectrum it may more of a goldenrod or a gamboge. In 1920, the Star described it as old gold, which has a distinguished ring to it and, just maybe, helped the team recall what they’d come to Belgium for.
Subsequent Olympics were winter affairs, starting in 1924 in Chamonix. The Canadians, Torontonians this time, also came for and retrieved the gold, though they were sweatered in white this time. That gets us to 1928 and St. Moritz. The University of Toronto’s Varsity Grads were on call in Switzerland for that one, captained by defenceman Red Porter, here above. Canada was again golden, carrying off the silver Olympic hockey trophy seen here in tidy fashion: three games, three wins, 38 goals for, none against. The Grads wore white for the occasion, despite the fanciful tinting in this contemporary newspaper illustration. I’m not so confident classifying the colouring here — candle glow, would you call it, or lemon curry?
Starter Kit: NHL fans have spoken, and what they’re saying is that the uniform the Chicago Blackhawks have worn since 1955 is the, ahem, Greatest of Them All. The online vote was part of the league’s centennial celebrations. We don’t have the final breakdown on just how the league’s balloting played out, just that some six million votes were cast from November 28 through December 31. Glenn Hall, for one, approves of the winner: having also dressed up in his time in Detroit and St. Louis duds, the long-time Chicago goaltender tells NHL.com that the latter-day Blackhawks sweater “is the nicest of any that I’ve seen. I loved to put it on.” I don’t know, though. I’ve never skated any NHL ice wearing any of its famous fabrics, but I’m not persuaded that the sweaters being celebrated are even the best-looking in Chicago’s historical wardrobe. This, above, is the handsome look Chicago started out with in 1926, as modelled by the team’s first captain, Dick Irvin. Such a practical design, too: if there’s a uniform that provides better camouflage for those operating in an urban neighbourhood of houses clad in white wooden siding, show me now.
Argue, go ahead, that the 1970s marked the golden age of hockey players styling handsome sweaters: you’ve got Bobby Hull, after all, to stand up as evidence for the prosecution. For me, though, I’m stuck in the ’60s. Montreal’s Highland Knitting Mills were spinning their own marvels (below) even as (above) Henri Richard joined with Jantzen’s International Sports Club to tout their newest wool cardigan as it launched across the border into U.S. “better American stores” in colours across the “masculine range.” “You can see the stripes are newly designed in richer, muted,” ran the copy for this campaign. “Thus, like any real pro (and good amateurs, too), Henri leaves his flashiness on the ice, but never his flair.” Probably best to try one on before I declare it a must-have, but the name alone, for me, is a clincher: this is the sweater they called The Canadian Bulky.