Permanent style

British bespoke - Part 4

2009-07-17T12:10:00.002+01:00

Monday was the first stage of my final fitting for the suit from Graham Browne – my first bespoke suit in the UK. While there is far less to say about the trousers of a suit than the jacket, there are still a few interesting points to note.

Like many bespoke tailors, Graham Browne sews a length of reinforcing material into the waistband of its trousers. Made from a loose-weave linen mix, this is intended to keep the waistband firm and stop it folding over.

I have to confess that when I first saw this addition to my bespoke suits in Hong Kong, I thought it was a way to cut corners – hiding the perhaps poorer-quality material with internal reinforcements. While Browne has corrected this opinion, it is still true that the side-adjusters on my Hong Kong trousers do not cope well with the insert, making the part of the trousers that is tightened with these adjustors into stiff folds that are a little uncomfortable.

(The Hong Kong suits also featured this reinforcement along the top of the breast pocket, which I recently discovered high-end ready-to-wear brands do as well – such as old Kilgour stuff.)

Ready-to-wear trousers rarely feature these reinforcements, apparently, because they make the entire waistband in one operation by a machine. The linen cannot easily be inserted afterwards, or into just some of the waistbands.

The waist of the trousers was slightly too large (the drop from my legs to waist is rather extreme) and picture one below shows Russell marking that adjustment up. Picture two shows the adjustment marked on the rear of the trousers.

Picture three shows the length of the trousers, which I asked for every so slightly shorter than pictured (we went for 3/8 of an inch shorter). While I do want a break in the front of my trousers, I want this to be slight. And the narrowness of the leg should mean there is minimal flapping when I walk.

The shoes, by the way, are oxblood wholecuts from Lodger – on the English contemporary last. Russell wanted to know, so I’m telling you too.

Finally, I did have a sneak peak at the jacket and a brief discussion about the length of the sleeves. I always like a half inch of shirt showing here (as a great locus of style) but the jacket sleeves at present do not reveal this. One problem is that I have rather long hands and fingers – so a short sleeve can look particularly short.

Russell said he would always go for between four and five inches of hand showing – and my sleeves were already revealing five. But I think I will still have the sleeves shortened slightly. Showing a little cuff is after all much more an Italian tradition than an English one.

Chocolate brown with canary yellow

2009-07-16T11:59:00.004+01:00

It’s rather a shame that leather shoes are so often worn with suits. For nothing complements the patina of a well-polished leather more than strong colour.

Grey and blue wools are all very elegant, and there are mutually beneficial combinations – oxblood and navy, for example – but strong colours are unlikely to be found in suitings. The shoes are likely to bring out an aspect of the suit, rather than the other way around: an English tan that highlights the speckles of colour in Harris tweed.

Indeed, there may be a rule of thumb here: Strong colours shed light on their muted neighbours. So leather shoes (other than black) bring out aspects of a subdued suit; bright socks make the most of leather.

For socks are by far the easiest way to put strong colour next to leather. It is no coincidence that brands such as Domenico Vacca and Paul Stuart showcase their shoes with a rolled up sock inside. It makes the patina sing.

Let’s take an example. A really dark, chocolate-brown leather looks great with a bright yellow sock. Yet other bright colours – red is the first that springs to mind – do not. Thick, muddy brown is uplifted by canary yellow; red just looks crass.

It’s not until brown leather gets some highlights to it, and approaches tan, that red begins to work. Artistically, yellow has to work better because the pigment of the brown has more yellow in it than any of the other primary colours.

So when I wish to add a splash of colour below the waist, I pair bright-yellow socks with chocolate shoes. Probably two-hole derbies, or wholecuts, to expose a broad expanse of the leather to its acidic neighbour.

This article originally appeared on Gentlemans Corner

Reader question: Suit brands

2009-07-15T09:17:00.000+01:00

Will, Minnesota: Simon, I wrote to you before on a style matter. As I’ve sought suits and separates lately, I’ve learned that while I thought I was a 40, I am truly around a 38 long – sometimes a 36. In-turn, I’ve learned that some designers will fit me better than others and in ways that I prefer. After having bought two suits, a Valentino and a Z Zegna, from Bloomingdale’s at more than 50% off, I write to you again.

I know that these names, as well as Hart Schaffner Marx, Armani, and many others are high-end brands. I know that Boss is a little bit lower and Ralph Lauren, except for his purple and black label, is lower still. Without giving me an exhaustive and exhausting list of names, please tell me the tiers of men’s suits and brands. Or if you’ve already done so, please direct me to the column link.

Dear Will, there is no obvious or easy way to rank the different designer brands. Much of the ranking you state here will be based on advertising, your tastes and on inevitably on price.

The key to comparing designer brands is to remember that you are paying for two things – design and construction. A $2000 designer suit is not twice as well made as a $1000 one. It may be made slightly better (say 10%, 20% more invested in materials and workmanship) but most of the extra price is for design.

Design is great. It brings beauty into the world. But most of the time when men buy a suit they don’t want to pay for design. They want better materials and quality. So just pick a design you like, irrespective of the price. You may have expensive tastes or cheap tastes. But work out what you can afford and pick the design you like best for that price.

This is entirely separate to quality of construction. I recommend a few things to look for below, but I would also recommend the relevant section of Alan Flusser’s Style and the Man, which goes into assessing cloth and construction in more detail.

- Check that the chest is fully canvassed. When you pinch the material around a jacket button, holding both sides of the cloth one in each hand, you should be able to feel a floating piece of material between them (this is horsehair or a horsehair blend, and gives construction to the chest).

- Check that the buttons are horn rather than plastic.

- Try holding the cloth and feeling its weight. It should be flexible to the touch, have a satisfying heft and spring back well when scrunched (as you can see, this ‘feel’ for cloth is something hard to describe).

- Check how large the armholes are. A smaller armhole is less efficient to make and more personal to the wearer. Cheaper brands make bigger ones to fit more people.

- Check that the trousers are at least half-lined. While some men prefer trousers unlined (particularly as it makes them easier to press) a lining is generally a sign of quality.

- Check the matching of patterns. Checks or stripes should match across pockets and across some part of the chest into the sleeve. As with many of these points, this really shows attention to detail rather than quality of construction – but that’s the best guide you have, you have to assume that attention will have been pursued elsewhere as well.

- Working buttonholes used to be a sign of quality, but so many cheap suits do it now that I would ignore this.

These are just a few things to check. Much of it is a question of taste as well. I hate a jacket that doesn’t roll naturally from the top button to the middle button of three. And it is harder to construct, so you could say it shows quality. But then some people do prefer harder-lapelled, ‘true’ three-button suits.

The other thing to remember when separating design and construction is that you are paying for a brand’s advertising, shops and runway shows. Armani spends more on this promotion than, say, Canali, which in turn probably spends more than Hart Schaffner Marx. Armani ads create desirability and cool, but you pay for it when you buy into that branding. Profit margins aren’t necessarily higher at designer brands, but costs are.

(Though often designer labels do use their position to charge higher margins. One former Berluti employee tells me that their profit margins can be higher than 75%, for example, charging almost 50% more than an English shoemaker I know with the same cost price.)

One answer to this, of course, is to get discounts – as you have done. Anything over 50% and you’ve removed most of the profit. Kilgour’s recent clearout sale got me rather a fever given that some suits were priced at £250, down from over £1000.

To conclude, don’t assume that brands have any set pecking order. Judge the design on its own merits and your own taste, not the label or the price tag. Then analyse the quality using my pointers and other research. And finally, get a discount.

Harrods discounts

2009-07-14T17:20:00.003+01:00

For those out there looking for the last, final round of sales, Harrods started its extra discounts at lunchtime today. It finishes on Sunday.

This is the time to go at get 75% off. Happy hunting.

The launch of Gentleman's Corner

2009-07-14T10:45:00.004+01:00

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I would soon be announcing an exciting new project. Well, it went live on Friday: Gentleman's Corner.

The site is dedicated to craft in menswear, with much of that looking at shoes but also including suits, knitwear, trainers and indeed anything that dresses a man. The philosophy is Ask Another Question - in other words, dig a little bit deeper than the normal PR found in men's magazines.

While I will be the editor-in-chief, we also have a range of different contributors from vastly different backgrounds - shoe designer to fashion journalist, sneaker freak to clothing novice. Please have a look, any feedback is appreciated.

Below is my first feature for the site.

The craft of tweed: Harris and Norton

Patrick Grant loves tweed. That’s evident from the length and depth with which the owner of Norton & Sons will talk about tweed. Indeed he was recently asked to speak about tweed, by the Harris Tweed Authority. He is making a documentary about tweed, with the BBC. Hell, his grandfather was a yarn designer.

But he loves one particular tweed in particular: Harris tweed. And more specifically than that, the Harris tweed made by Donald John Mackay in a small hut, on the edge of the beach in Luskentyre.

“If you look at it under a magnifying glass it’s amazing. Most yarns are very simple, they usually contain one or two colours. But a Harris tweed yarn will routinely contain seven or eight different coloured wools, which are blended together and then spun,” says Grant. “So at a distance it might look like a blue, a pale blue. But when you get up close you will see little bits of green and turquoise and navy, perhaps a touch of yellow. There’s an amazing richness of colour.”

That’s one reason Harris tweed is so easy and creative to wear with other clothes. All the different colours in the tweed can be picked up in your shirts and your ties and your handkerchiefs.

Mackay doesn’t make his own yarns, they are supplied by the main mill on the island. But it is the art of spinning them and creating individual patterns that impresses Grant.

“It’s hard to be prescriptive about what makes a Harris tweed beautiful. Some people just get it right. There is a science and an art to it. Weavers spend years and years learning the science, but then they have to create art out of their own imagination. Donald John Mackay just has a good eye.

“It’s hard to analyse. You could apply all your colour theory to it, a colour wheel etc, but often that doesn’t work. One combination will just resonate, while another that worked in your mind will look drab. In that way it’s much like combining colours in all areas of men’s dress. You need to learn from experimentation and experience.”

Mackay has other champions as well. In 2004 his company landed a contract from Nike to update a trainer called The Terminator – a basketball shoe from the eighties. Nike wanted to use a swampy green tweed to relaunch the shoe and Mackay ended up supplying over 10,000 yards of the fabric.

That led to something of a renaissance for tweed, with it being championed by Ralph Lauren, Madonna and Sarah Jessica Parker over the next few months. Then in February this year Mackay was asked by Clarks to supply the tweed for two ranges of boot it was launching, with an initial order of 1000 yards.

The two boots – a ladies high, seventies boot and a desert boot – were commissioned as part of Clarks’s celebration of 60 years of the desert boot, and will be available from August.

But for tailoring, the cloth is only found in two places. From that hut on the beach and at Norton & Sons. The 2000 tweeds that Nortons has available range from very lightweight cloths that aren’t really tweeds at all, referred to as worsted tweeds, to insanely heavy, 32-ounce tweeds that seem bulletproof. But the Harris tweed is by far the most popular.

“Of those 2000 cloths in all those weights, the Harris bunch is probably about 20. A tiny, tiny fraction. But the number we sell is 10 times that proportion,” says Grant. “We have tweeds from some fantastic mills: from Scotland, from Huddersfield, from a mill in the Cotswolds and Donegal tweeds that are now made over here. But Harris outsells them all.

“People connect to Harris tweed. They understand the history and the provenance of the cloth. There is something about the Isle of Harris, Lewis and that northern chain of Hebridean islands, that creates in people’s minds something quite special and romantic. The materials and the colours are redolent of the sea, and the grass, the rugged life, the farming.”

Not every client knows this when they walk into Norton & Sons. But they are inquisitive people and interested in what they are buying. And Grant admits he has some pictures of Mackay’s shed on the edge of the beach.

But it’s the people that make Grant want to go to the trouble to buy it himself, rather than just sourcing it from the bunch – from Harrisons of Edinburgh or a similar supplier. This is backed up by the sourcing of other products sold by Nortons, such as knitwear from William Lockie & Co and jewellery from Clive Burr: both small, independent British manufacturers. Or indeed the products under the relaunched E Tautz.

Grant is also heavily involved in the tweed industry – making the series for the BBC, as mentioned earlier, and speaking at an event for the Harris Tweed Authority that took place “in the aftermath of some rather unpleasant upheavals in the industry”. He is referring to the buying up of Kenneth Mackenzie and Parkend, two tweed manufacturers, by entrepreneur Brian Haggas in 2006. Haggas closed down the latter and reduced production at the former to four designs, refusing to sell to anyone else and producing exclusively for his own production. Since then Mackenzie’s has been mothballed also.

Says Grant: “I was there as the man from Savile Row, the man who loves the cloth and is there to tell people that they have fans and supporters all around the world. That they are not alone.”

Your pocket handkerchief is a collar

2009-07-13T08:52:00.001+01:00

One question I often get asked is how to pick out the colour of your pocket handkerchief.

Well, I’ve written before (here) about harmonising in colours rather than matching – essentially picking out a second colour other than your tie’s that you think goes well with the shirt and jacket. Or, as someone put it to me recently, “so it’s like thinking of two ties that go with the outfit, and just using the colour of one of them for the handkerchief?” Yes, that’s a good way to put it. Of course, if you’re not wearing a tie, then the colour of your handkerchief should be thought of in the same way as the tie would have been (longer explanation here).

But. All this is to presume that you want a coloured, patterned or otherwise fancy pocket handkerchief. You may not. Indeed, your default setting should not be colour and pattern, but plain white linen. That’s in the pocket to start with. It is a conscious decision to add colour afterwards.

Bright, crisp white is the smartest colour a man can wear. This is why, back in the age when collars were starched and attached with studs, they were white. The body of the shirt may be striped or brightly coloured but the collar and cuffs were white. Because it is bright, because it is clean and because it provides the greatest contrast with the fabric of the jacket.

A strip of white around the neck and two around the wrists. It brings dignity and formality to any outfit, and today’s equivalent is the linen pocket handkerchief.

In the same way that today’s blue or pink shirts – that do not have detachable white collars – are a little more casual than those of old, the next option down your ladder of handkerchief choices should be something similar to the colour of the shirt.

Not exactly the same, necessarily, but similar. If the shirt is pale blue, go with a similar blue with a white polka dot. Or a darker, navy blue. Perhaps even a blue pattern with some white or yellow thrown in. The point is, the handkerchief will harmonise with the shirt if it’s dominant colour is the same.

White is the default; the second choice is to pick a colour similar to the shirt. Last is to pick something brightly coloured that plays a similar role to the tie (as described earlier on). Many men get this order entirely the wrong way around. They think that the handkerchief must play a similarly decorative role to the tie, as it is often silk and very much on display. That is your last choice – the sporty one, the more showy one, the rakish one.

Reader question: A suit for my wedding

2009-07-11T10:01:00.001+01:00

Michael, Atlanta: I’m a long time reader and have greatly enjoyed your posts, and have even more enjoyed applying their message.

I’m about a year away from my wedding and am looking to have a suit made for it. I am looking at either a black with a white chalkstripe, or a medium grey with a white chalkstripe. A standard three piece, with three-button jacket, slanted unflapped pockets with a ticket pocket on the right, and an eight-button double-breasted peak lapel waistcoat. This will be accompanied by an unadorned white spread-collar shirt and plum tie and pocket square.

That, I’m aware, is quite a lot of look (stripes, peaks, buttons, and pockets) even though we are looking to incorporate throwbacks of vintage styling. I’m uncertain about the pairing of the waistcoat and the jacket – is having both peak-collared something that will look ridiculous? And the combination of single and double-breasted seems to make sense in my head, but is it commonly borne out?

Lastly, would black and white spectators work, or pull the whole thing apart and make it look even more like costume?

Dear Michael, you are right in your description of this a lot of look. To be honest, I think it is too much. But it can also be saved fairly easily I think.

Let’s start with the colour of the suit. Go for the medium grey, not the black. A black suit with chalk stripe can too easily make you look like a wide-boy trader or a gangster, and besides, black as a colour suits almost nobody. The mid-grey should be more flattering, seem more formal at the wedding and provide better use later on.

The pockets need to be quietened down a little as well. Unflapped pockets may look a little odd with a suit that isn’t that formal elsewhere, and a ticket pocket produces the opposite effect. Equally slanted pockets. It feels like you are trying to throw too many quirks into one area. I would pick just one: two unflapped, straight pockets, for example, or three with flaps.

On the waistcoat and jacket, don’t worry about the double and single breasted, but do worry about the lapels (the collar is the top section, around your neck by the way). Having both peaked will look too much – like you are trying to wear two outfits instead of one.

Instead I would go for a collarless waistcoat – I have a suit and waistcoat in exactly that configuration and the sweep of the waistcoat underneath the jacket adds subtle verve without being over the top. If you must have a collar on the waistcoat, make it a shawl collar – a very traditional look on a double-breasted.

And the advantage of paring back in all these areas is that it is the only way you’ll be able to get away with wearing spectators as well.

The diminishing returns of shoes

2009-07-10T09:07:00.003+01:00

Permanent Style featured for the first time this past issue in The Rake magazine, and is proud to do so. Below is the first feature included.

The economics of fine shoes

Do you know what you are paying for when you buy English benchmade shoes? Simon Crompton lifts the lid on the manufacturing process and what gives you value for money

The key to understanding the construction of benchmade shoes is straight out of economic theory. It is the concept of diminishing returns.

In a bespoke pair of shoes, everything is done by hand. Not only is the last, and therefore the shape, designed by hand, but so is the cutting, the stitching, the hammering and the polishing. Everything is done by hand, down to the writing of your name or order number on the inside.

Now some of these handmade stages are quick and some are not. It takes a lot longer to hand-stitch the sole than it does to hand-polish the upper. And some of the handmade stages make a big difference to the quality of the shoe – others make less. Stretching the upper over the last by hand (lasting) makes a big difference to the comfort of the shoe over time. Sewing the different parts of the upper together by hand (closing) makes only a small difference to longevity.

So some handcrafting stages add a lot, others add a little. As you add more to the construction process of a benchmade shoe, the gain in quality for every pound spent gets less and less. You suffer diminishing returns.

This is important for the producers of shoes. They have to decide how much to invest, picking a point on the curve where the marginal return on the handcrafting is the greatest. But it is also important for you, the lover and purchaser of fine English shoes. By understanding the construction process you can make a decision about which handcrafting you think is worth the money – and buy accordingly.

Step by step

Nathan Brown faced the producer’s dilemma last year when he set up Lodger, a new shoemaker based on Clifford Street in London, just off Savile Row.

“It was tough but you have to find the right balance between handcrafting, which is beautiful, time-consuming and expensive, and using traditional shoemaking machinery,” says Brown. “You also have to deliver what you think is the best value for the customer.”

The first construction stage is to cut out the leather (known as clicking – the term refers to the sound made by the knife). The producers of basic benchmade shoes, such as Loake, Cheaney or Church’s, do it with a press knife – a pneumatic machine that effectively punches through the leather like a cookie cutter. But all high-end benchmade shoes do this by hand, from Edward Green to John Lobb. The lines are cleaner and there is more ability to adapt to the vagaries of the leather.

This is one of the biggest splits between the old-school English shoemakers in Northampton. What could be called the ‘basic’ benchmade shoes (Church’s etc.) click with a press knife; the ‘high-end’ brands cut by hand. Newcomer Lodger deliberately aimed to be in the second group.

In the next stage, closing, the various parts of the upper are sewn together. With a bespoke shoe it would be done by hand, but every other type of shoe is closed by machine. As with clicking by hand, closing with a machine is fairly standard for the higher-quality benchmade shoes. Cleverley, Foster & Sons (as well as Lodger and Lobb): all their ready-to-wear shoes are made this way. “It’s a pretty manual process anyway,” observes Brown, “it’s a question of accurately guiding the leather. So you don’t gain that much by doing it by hand.”

The only exception is aesthetic. The Dover model from Edward Green, for example, has one seam closed by hand. It takes two hours and is done by pig bristle. As staff in the factory say, it will be slightly stronger – but that isn’t why it is done.

The next stage is lasting. At Edward Green this is done by hand, using pliers to stretch the leather over the last and then nailing it in position. Lodger does the same, but most other companies use a machine with laser-guided sights, just finishing it off and smoothing any wrinkles by hand. Even some of the high-end brands last this way, but Brown thought doing it by hand was worth the money: “If you last by hand you can adapt to the idiosyncrasies of the leather and the shoe will retain its shape for longer.”

Next is sewing the welt to the upper, and both to the sole. Doing it by hand takes a long time: each stitch is locked, using two threads that effectively create a knot at every stage. Doing it by machine takes 10 minutes, so almost all benchmade shoes (including Lodger) do it this way.

You pay a lot for polish

There is greatest variety among shoemakers in the final two stages: bevelling the waist and polishing the upper. On all Edward Green shoes, the waist (where the sole narrows before it meets the heel) is bevelled to some extent – rounding it to create a more attractive look and a more natural roll to the tread.

But at Lobb, only the more expensive range (Prestige, just over £700) has a bevelled waist. The cheaper line (Classic, just over £500) does not.

At Lodger, the English contemporary line (around £550) does have a bevelled waist. But the Italian contemporary (same price) does not. Instead, that extra investment is put into finishing the upper: it is hand-painted from natural cream, building layer upon layer to create a deep patina. So it’s your choice which you want to pay for.

The cost of finishing and shaping the waist can be seen in two recent launches. Edward Green recently introduced its Top Drawer collection and George Cleverley is launching the Anthony Cleverley range. Both involve a far greater amount of time rounding and fiddling the waist by hand, and there is more time spent on the finishing. But they also both cost around £1000 – a good 70% more than the normal ready-to-wear.

So these last stages are definitely at the end of the curve of diminishing returns. A lot more money for what some at Green admit is “pretty much just aesthetics”.

Then again, some people will pay a lot for aesthetics. George Glasgow, managing director at Cleverley, admits he is now unsure whether the company can cope with the volume of orders there has been for the Anthony range. And Top Drawer is already sold out for the year.

Just pick a price and know what you are paying for. The choice is yours.

Sporty, monochrome wedding

2009-07-08T11:50:00.001+01:00

Here’s a thought on wedding attire. It’s not really traditional and it doesn’t really fit with the rules. In that sense I suppose it is a way to break the rules.

Anyway. I’ve written before how the default attire at a wedding should be the smartest thing you have. If morning dress is not required or suitable, it should be smart, discreet and dignified. The best combination might be a navy blue suit in a smooth, worsted wool, white cotton shirt and satin tie. Single breasted. White linen handkerchief. Black shoes. It’s hard to think of anything smarter in a lounge suit; though perhaps a Macclesfield check in the tie would be a nice nod to tradition.

However, it does strike me as a shame that a man following this advice will end up wearing to a wedding pretty much what he wears to work.

It is a shame because today not many men wear suits casually. They don’t wear them at the weekend and they don’t wear them for sport. So the sporty end of the lounge-suit range is criminally underused.

Men don’t wear strong checks; they don’t wear cottons or linens; they don’t wear great weaves like hopsack. These patterns and materials are unsuited to the dignity of business, so they rarely make it into the office. And at the weekend jeans and sweatshirts dominate.

So social occasions like weddings are a glorious opportunity to wear these sporty combinations. At a wedding I went to recently a friend was wearing a bespoke tan linen suit, brown oxfords, a pink-and-white striped shirt, a sky-blue tie and a pocket handkerchief. He looked great – but it’s hard to imagine any other scenario where he or any other of my friends would wear a combination like this. The joy of rough cloths and bright colours would be lost.

As a defence to this flouting of the rules, I would also point out that weddings today really are more casual than they used to be. There are fewer formalities, there is less prescribed structure, hell most of them aren’t even religious. So while the sanctity of marriage certainly demands dignity in dress, people shouldn’t follow ideas of propriety derived from an entirely different occasion.

It is always good to draw in one or two ideas of tradition though, if only because they have created such beautiful archetypes for us. In this case I would highlight the use of monochrome as smarter and more formal. Paring down the use of colour immediately makes things more dignified.

For all these reasons my outfit to this recent wedding was: a pale grey Glen-check suit, white cotton shirt, dark silver tie, white linen handkerchief and brown shoes (the Corthays pictured on the right bar of Permanent Style). Sporty in the pattern of the suit, but retaining formality through monochrome.

So this is one long self-justification, basically.

I did say someone else looked good though, right?

Reader question: Planning the week

2009-07-05T13:47:00.001+01:00

John, Los Angeles: Many of my colleagues laugh when I tell them I often pick out five days worth of clothes on Sunday evening. But I find that taking the time to select outfits for the week on Sunday and actually hanging them in the closet makes my mornings much calmer.

It also allows me time to really explore and ‘shop’ in my closet, and to put together, even try on, new combinations. It also reveals possible repair or cleaning issues while there is still time to do something about it. If my schedule for the week changes, with certain meetings requiring different selections than I have already prepared, I still have the flexibility of moving days around.

I find that the whole enterprise keeps me from just reaching for my favourites and makes me look forward to getting dressed each morning. What are your thoughts?

I strongly agree with two of John’s observations. First, I never have time enough to think calmly about what I will wear that day, let along try on one or two options. Second, thinking about what I will wear in advance opens up many more possibilities. My imagination has more time to whir through its collective memory and the wardrobe permutations.

The first of these is a real pity. As Patrick Grant at Norton & Sons observed to me recently: “It is a real shame that men don’t take 10 minutes every morning to think through their clothing options. Even if it’s just to try on two or three different ties.”

But I have to say I never fail to know what I am going to wear in the morning. Such is my passion for all things sartorial, and my eagerness to experiment, that I have already put together two or three possibilities in my mind. The evening before is normally the time for this and, if I can’t decide, I lay out a couple of options to let them stew.

Indeed, such are the whirrings of my mind that I normally have more combinations than I need. This week, for example, was forecast to be bright sunshine for at least four days. To each of those days I therefore allocated one summer item I would like to wear – new unlined navy blazer; cotton/linen trousers in a strong blue from Florence; spectator shoes from Lodger; and a tan linen jacket/yellow tie combination. Except that two days later my mind had come up with more ideas and some had to fall by the wayside. How about those white trousers? Or the cotton jacket? You never wear those when it’s sunny.

To those without this near-obsessive bent, I recommend John’s approach. At least plan out two or three days. There will always be a day or two where you are out in the evening and don’t have time to plan, in which case you can reach for old favourites. But if there’s no time given to considering your clothes, there’s unlikely to be any joy in it either.

British bespoke - Part 3

2009-07-02T09:52:00.001+01:00

My first, baste fitting for my bespoke suit at Graham Browne today. While I’ve had fittings at this stage previously with my Hong Kong tailor, this is the first time I’ve been able to ask as many questions and probe the details of this process.

The first image shows what the chest area of the suit looks like at this stage – the wool folded over with a generous inlay, lined with just the body (horsehair) canvas. The fold is held in place with long baste stitches and the sprouts of thread at the edges show where the mark stitches were that were pulled apart (see previous post here).

The second image shows the collar of the jacket. While there isn’t an actual collar attached, just over an inch of excess material is left above the neck (shown by mark stitches here) to simulate the collar when fitting.

Sewing together the jacket panels for this fitting only takes a couple of hours – which makes you feel slightly better when they say the whole thing will be ripped down into its individual components after the fitting, repressed and entirely re-cut.

This is one reason the amount of inlay left over at the edges is so generous: it allows significant reworking of the shape to be done after the baste fitting. As it is an investment suit, though, there will also be inlay left in the suit after it is finished – so it can be altered in the future. Bespoke will nearly always leave greater inlay here than ready-to-wear (which is always keen to shave off any extra costs).

In the third image the jacket is on and the lapels have been pinned back into position. Russell is examining the line of my rather rounded and sloping shoulders. Note also that only one arm is attached – the left. Only one arm is needed to judge the length and pitch of the sleeve, unless the initial measuring established that the client had one arm significantly different to the other.

The reason the left arm is attached and not the right is that it’s just easier. A sleeve is always sewn on starting at the front and working around to the back. This is because greater fullness (the difference in length between the sleeve and the armhole) has to be worked in at the front. A right-handed tailor works away from himself when attaching the left arm, therefore, but has to sew in reverse when attaching the right arm. So only the left sleeve is attached at the baste stage.

One of the most important things to discern in the sleeve at this fitting is its correct pitch (how it hangs in relation to your body – a little forward, a little back). If there is more material in the back of the sleeve, it hangs forward; more in the front and it will hang further back. The tailor makes a chalk mark on the jacket where your arm is hanging. Apparently my arms hang a little further back than average. Who knew?

It also hadn’t occurred to me that men tend to hold their arms unnaturally far back at the fitting – in the same way as they stand up too straight, as if they were on parade. The tailor has to make his customer relax in order to stand naturally, one of the favoured Savile Row methods being to tell a particularly ridiculous joke.

In the fourth picture that left arm has been stripped off and the shoulder seam is being uncut. Seeing the pieces being ripped apart is rather satisfying, and does make you feel like this length of cloth is being sculpted to your body; the measuring and cutting is rather abstract by comparison.

The shoulder was re-cut because Russell was not happy with the way it was lying, creating a little too much excess material across the chest. So the back and chest panels were pulled up and pinned again. Note also that the shoulder pads are not sewn in, just inserted and held there underneath the jacket during the fitting.

In the last picture you can see how the shoulder has been re-pinned a little tighter. You can also see the original chalk marks, now rather faded after all the work that has gone into the cloth, and the edge of body canvas and shoulder pad sticking out in the foreground. There are also small folds in this new shoulder line – where a slight excess of material will throw a little more fullness over the back.

The next (forward) fitting will be in two weeks time, where the largely complete jacket will be ready. Though it is still possible to alter a lot at the forward fitting, the tailor will try to minimise this as that construction takes around eight hours – four times as long as getting to the baste (or skeleton) fitting.

Oh, and I went for a deep green lining.

Get the basics right - it makes a big difference

2009-07-01T13:03:00.001+01:00

I am aware that as my interest in fine men’s clothes progresses, and my education improves, the subjects on which I write can become more esoteric, even academic. Witness recent posts on the Blake construction of shoes and the minutiae of darts in trousers.

Wonderful as these facets of knowledge are, they make less and less difference to how good a man looks – and how long his clothes last. Having a hand-lasted shoe is great, but the difference between that and normal benchmade shoes is smaller than the difference between benchmade and cheap, glued products.

You don’t have to buy bespoke shoes or bespoke suits to look great. And the improvements you make on basic off-the-peg will make the biggest change to how you look.

So here are my tips for the man that wants to take it up a notch:

- Switch to made-to-measure suits. Save bespoke for when you make partner. Just find a great made-to-measure suit maker (A Suit That Fits, say, Suit Supply, or one of the many such tailors that wander around city offices offering their services.) The improvement on ready-to-wear is marked.

- Look after that suit. Hang it up at the end of the day, wear it no more than twice a week, brush it down occasionally and only dry clean it twice a year. Steam press it in between if it gets wrinkled.

- Buy benchmade shoes. As much as they may be disparaged on this and other style sites, good benchmade shoes from Loake, Cheaney or Grenson are a big jump up from the basic, glued, curly-toed, slip-on ones you bought in Shelly’s.

- Look after those shoes. Put shoe trees in after you’ve worn them, brush them down at the end of every day and don’t wear them two days in a row. They’ll look good and last three times as long.

- Buy expensive ties in conservative patterns and colours. In my opinion, expense shows off best in ties and in shoes. So spend more than you think you should on ties from the great tie makers. Not Armani, not Prada; but Hermes, Charvet, Bulgari. Wait until the end of the Ralph Lauren sale, when all the ties are reduced to £25, and pick on a Purple Label one reduced from £95. They just hang better.

- If you wear a pocket handkerchief, don’t scrimp there either. Wearing one is a signal that you think about your clothes and are willing to be noticed for it. Buy good quality white linen to start with. Then some dark colours – burgundy, forest green – and a pale blue, all in conservative patterns.

- Finally, match your socks to your trousers. Buy grey socks and blue socks. Not black. And make sure they are full-calf length.

Follow all of these rules and you will not extend your budget or your wardrobe dramatically. But you will be a hell of a lot better dressed.

The handkerchief is an anchor

2009-06-29T13:51:00.001+01:00

Bright colours often need reining in. Or perhaps anchoring is the right metaphor.

Left on its own, a bright jacket (for example) can dominate an outfit and seem to float above it, rather than harmonising. It strikes the viewer as an individual item rather than part of an intelligently worked ensemble. Equally, if the jacket is dark and the rest of the outfit bright, something needs to link that jacket to the brightness elsewhere.

The most effective tool for this is the pocket handkerchief.

Pick out a colour from the shirt or tie and echo it in the handkerchief – suddenly there is a connection across the lapel and everything hangs together. In the top image, for example, this navy jacket could look a little out of place with the yellow, green and pink, not to mention the shorts. It could look like he’d put on his suit jacket on by mistake. But by echoing the pink panel of the shirt in the pink handkerchief, the jacket is anchored.

The second image demonstrates this the other way around. Here a bright yellow jacket threatens to lift right off the model and float unaided. The contrast would be particularly stark were I (or someone equally undaring) to wear this jacket – as I would certainly not pair it with such bright socks, shirt or tie. I would have plainer accompaniments and need something to anchor that jacket to them. The white of the collar would do, or a blue pattern if that were in the tie or trousers.

In this image, the handkerchief is linked to the tie by its similar tone – though to be fair that job is also performed by the horse emblazoned on the breast pocket.

Lastly, the white suit is given some kind of foundation by linking a blue handkerchief to the blues in the shirt and tie. Note, though, that the blues are slightly different in each of these items – it is harmonising, not matching.

Anchoring a bright item, like a jacket, is particularly important as the warm weather strikes (particularly in recent weeks in the UK). Suddenly you’re considering linen jackets, tan jackets, white trousers or even trousers in other brights. Go with it, but every time consider how to link that summery item back to everything else.

At a simple level, when I wear my bright green jacket I always add either a blue or white handkerchief, whichever best fits the rest of the outfit. Try it.

New personal website

2009-06-27T11:08:00.006+01:00

"Does anyone take pleasure in getting dressed anymore?"

For all those that are interested, my personal website has just relaunched at www.simoncrompton.co.uk. It contains details of my freelance work as well as the blogging done here and on other sites. There are also examples of previous work for those that have missed feature-length posts here.

Have a look and pass it along to anyone that might be interested.

All the best,

Simon

British bespoke - Part 2

2009-06-25T13:30:00.000+01:00

I saw my first British bespoke suit being drawn and cut recently at Graham Browne, in advance of the first fitting.

First I saw the patterns being drawn. Picture 1 shows the pattern for the front part of the trousers, which has just been drawn out. The three length points are marked first – the bottom of the trouser, the knee, and the top of the inside leg. The width of each point is then marked off and joined together by ruler.

The three lines you can see in this photo are the inside leg, the hip and the waist, the lines between which are curved. The triangle in the centre of the picture is a front dart. Given my waist, two darts were needed (more or less can be used depending on one’s measurements) and the house style at Graham Browne is to have one in the front, here, and another in the back. Some tailors put two in the back but the guys here feel one dart in the front of the trouser adds a little needed room across the pocket – especially if it is a slant pocket. If there was no dart in the front, the curve to the waist (top right) would have to be more acute.

The back of the trousers is also 1¾ inches higher than the front. This varies quite a bit from tailor to tailor. The guys at Graham Browne say they have worked a lot on their trouser system in recent years, but wouldn’t give away any more than this.

The second picture shows the patterns being cut out – that’s the front and back of the jacket, right and left. The greatest skill is in drawing up and cutting these patterns correctly, rather than tracing them onto the cloth with chalk – even though this often gets greater attention.

In the next picture Russell is tracing the pattern of the sleeve onto the paper below, using a spiked wheel. Russell is fastidious about his sleeves – indeed just one mention of them launches an explanation of how rounded the shoulder must work here, and the fact that some other tailors fall down by leaving the sleeves up to the tailor, rather than the cutter.

And picture four, below, shows how that rounded shape is taken on – the larger piece is the outside of the sleeve and the front piece is the inside. The two shapes need to flow smoothly together, rather than chop squarishly from one shape to another.

Next the patterns are traced with chalk onto the cloth. I love the fact that the best way to rub out a mistake is just to hit the cloth with an open hand – the chalk dust flies off. If it were rubbed it would just work further into the material.

The penultimate photo shows the full suit chalked up on the cloth. Notice that there is only one half of each section here – one side of the front of the jacket, one side of the back and one sleeve. The cloth is doubled up and both parts cut together.

Finally, the two halves of the cloth are sewn together with a mark stitch to indicate where the outside edge of the jacket will be – the remainder of the cloth being the inlay inside the chest or sleeve. This is a loose stitch that is immediately ripped apart, but leaves knots of thread to indicate that outside edge. It seems like a tiresome process just to mark an edge, but such is the tradition of bespoke.

First fitting later in the week.

Why men are scared of real trousers

2009-06-24T10:02:00.003+01:00

It often seems odd quite how many men wear jeans outside the office, and no other trousers. I was sitting in a taxi with three friends a while ago, all facing each other as you are in a black cab, and it struck me that we were all wearing mid-blue jeans, in a vaguely straight cut, without any distressing or rips. They were pretty much interchangeable.

And then you go into the pub, and look around, and realise that all the other men are wearing the same thing as well. It’s a little spooky when you start noticing it.

Everyone knows why jeans are popular. They’re comfortable, hard-wearing and universally accepted. But as important, I think, is that they are a great backdrop to other colours, clothes and textures. The material and colour of blue jeans means they go with black and white, bright colours and muted colours, shirt and t-shirt.

They go with everything. And they effectively separate socks/shoes from shirt/jacket as well, so you don’t have to worry about harmonising these other items.

I find this with the unusual items I buy – the bright green jacket or spectator shoes, for example, that have featured in previous posts. When I’m considering buying an unusual item, my first thought is “it’s alright, I’ll wear it with jeans.” And they do both look great with jeans; it is that bit harder to combine them well with suits or flannels. My problem is I end up with too many unusual items and wearing nothing but jeans!

Those in the US have it slightly easier. For them chinos are almost as ubiquitous as jeans, and while the former is not quite as adaptable, it does mean the Americans are trained to matching a different material with the other items in their wardrobe. Not just jeans.

This also leads me onto my suggested solution for British men. Stay with your favoured material, cotton, but experiment with different permutations. Try cords, chinos, gabardine. Try different weights and weaves in each of those – within what you might think of as chinos, for example, is a world of materials from the very rough to the very smart, the heavy to the lightweight.

Don’t wear suit trousers, please. In London you often see men wearing worsted wool (suit) trousers with trainers and t-shirts and, while it can occasionally look funky, you never think to yourself – ‘oh yeah, that really works.’ It is unusual and that’s all.

Finally, experimenting with different cottons will help men survive the summer. As the temperature increases, you see men gradually shedding layers and shoes, until they are in thin t-shirts, flip-flops and jeans. They never lose the jeans. No matter how heavy they are, they never lose them until (deep breath) it just gets too sweaty and they plunge into shorts.

There are other options. Don’t be scared of real trousers.

Permanent Style in French and Russian

2009-06-23T14:34:00.003+01:00

Permanent Style has expanded its reach to other languages, with articles on the site translated into both French and Russian for a foreign audience.

This week Hugo, who blogs at Parisian Gentleman, translated my interview with Patrick Grant of Norton & Sons for his readers in Paris. Read it and Hugo's other fine work here.

And recently Igor Stukalov, blogging at Bespoke etc, asked to translate some of my articles into the Russian language for those following his blog in Moscow. If you are lucky enough to be able to read Russian, take a look at this great piece on shirt construction.

The picture is of a lovely pair of Corthay boots. Because we are talking about France and I wanted an excuse.

Ha! You think these are golf shoes?

2009-06-22T08:49:00.001+01:00

Golf shoes are the living memory of classic footwear. Within them the traditions of the past live on in a way not possible in any other walk of life (apologies for the pun).

This is because golf retains the twin features of social propriety and gentlemanly sport.

It used to be the case that one’s dress was driven by strict social mores. The proper attire for work, play and formal events was minutely prescribed, the punishment social ostracism.

(To an extent, this is one reason that royalty or celebrities often drove new fashions: they had the prominence to make something popular, but also the position to get away with it. Beau Brummell learned this social power of royalty to his cost when he famously snubbed his erstwhile compatriot, Prince George.)

Golf clubs are one of the few places in today’s society where similar rules and a sense of propriety can still be found. Formal day events such as weddings and Easter Sunday lost that a long time ago. Equally many aspects of conducting business.

This is one reason that golf shoes still retain such similarity to the ‘sporting’ shoes that were worn when the activity first became popular. Brogues were initially worn, because they were more casual than the undecorated shoes worn for business. Over time, other more casual shoes – spectators, saddle shoes, shoes with tassels – became part of golf clothing.

But while the rest of society’s dress went hurtling towards informality, golf moved very slowly. Other shoes, those more resembling trainers, were gradually allowed as the club rules softened. But society had sped past – pursuing jeans, t-shirts and flip-flops. So the shoes that, ironically, were originally worn for golf because they were casual, became some of the most formal worn outside the office. The became a residue of past convention.

The other reason that golf has retained traditional footwear is that, let’s face it, it is not a very active sport. In the twenties tennis shoes were leather-soled and made of nubuck. But then tennis was a social diversion where the objective was to hit the ball to the other player, not away from him – like playing bat-and-ball on the beach. As the sport became more competitive, its clothing became more flexible and athletic.

Golfers are sportsmen and they get injuries. But they don’t run around a lot. So the tasselled spectator has survived – it provides support and can have spikes screwed into the sole; what more do you need?

That’s why I find it funny when people see my spectators (pictured top) and ask how the greens were that morning.

Cheap bespoke part 2

2009-06-20T08:37:00.001+01:00

My post just over a week ago on the possibilities of finding cheap bespoke shoes by separately arranging for a personal last and a maker has drawn a lot of comment, both on the sites and privately through email or meetings.

To respond to one point quickly – I do not mind commissioning an independent worker rather than a bespoke company in London (that has invested “in bricks and mortar”) as small artisans need as much support as any manufacturer, no matter how small. I have also invested enough (indeed, many would say, too much) in the English shoe industry over the years.

Now to the main point: commissioning your own shoes. Those that responded to me agreed with my conclusion that simply sending a scan of your foot to Springline and then sending that to an independent shoemaker would not produce a well-fitting shoe. Bespoke is about process and about trial-and-error.

However, many people do go to the effort of producing their own lasts and then commissioning shoes. This takes more time and effort. You have to talk to the lastmaker, have him examine your feet and, if possible, see the imprint of your foot on the insole of shoes you have worn for a while.

Then you need to have a trial shoe made. This is best if it is at the stage where the shoe is ‘braced’ – an earlier stage than that at which the London firms tend to do the fitting, which is usually when the shoe is ‘in welt’.

And then return to the lastmaker for adjustments, which is easier if you have a personal relationship rather than just giving him a sheet of measurements. There will always be little things to discuss as well, like the allowance made for space at the end of your toes. This plus the length of your foot is the total length of your last – the ‘stick length’. (A hundred years ago the rule was ‘three sizes’ (one inch in total). Today most firms go shorter: two or two-and-a-half sizes.)

As with the process of having a bespoke suit made, it is as much about personal preference as about the measurements of the tailor.

Once the fit is good, the last can be altered for every subsequent order of shoes, as long as the heel pitch (height of the heel) and the toe spring (distance of the tip of the sole to the ground) remain constant.

As I said, many go to this effort and made. Some have a last made and then even buy their own leather and commission separate closers and makers. But that is the proper way to get the best-value bespoke shoes.

A couple of more points to clear up. Cliff Roberts uses lasts that are similar to those of Edward Green 888 and 202 – not the same, as this would be illegal. The guidance is largely for American customers that are ordering from further away but need a point of reference – and many have Edward Greens.

Cliff’s soles are attached by machine, but many do this (old firm Peal & Co is said to have attached all its soles by hand-cranked machine, even bespoke). The welt, however, is hand-sewn and the threads for that sewing and all handmade and hand-waxed. The heels are also built by hand.

My first English bespoke suit

2009-06-17T09:14:00.001+01:00

My tailoring is taking a step up in the world. I’m having my first English bespoke suit made.

The tailor is Graham Browne, whom I have written about on this blog previously. They are located on Well Court, just off Bow Lane in the City. I had originally gone in there for alterations but decided to take the plunge with bespoke as well.

All my previous bespoke suits had been made by Edward Tam in Hong Kong but, while entirely satisfied with Edward’s work, I liked the fact that I would be able to get more of an insight into the bespoke process at Graham Browne.

Edward’s English is very good, but it is not always easy to have conversations about the finer points of jacket construction – the communication level is just not high enough. And, more importantly, I have never seen Edward’s suits being made. At Browne, the cutting is done on the premises, so I can witness that, and the sewing is done by a group based in north London, which again I will be able to visit. This will both enlighten me and, hopefully, provide some interesting reading.

I wanted an investment suit, one that is conservative enough to last me a long time and get value out of the extra money spent on bespoke. But I was also keen to have a double-breasted suit – because it is so much harder to get a good fit off the peg.

So I went for mid-blue cloth, to be made into a 6×4 double-breasted suit. I always like to have some surface interest to the material – some texture, essentially – so I looked for herringbones with some variation in the blue. Pictured are two I decided between, eventually going for the Botany merino.

I do like buttons. Probably for similar reasons to the surface texture in the wool: I like little, subtle points of individuality. Not wearing my watch over my cuff, but having brown horn buttons on a blue suit, with a nice pattern to them. Again, pictured a few I picked between, with the final decision being number 4 on this picture.

Other style points: I like a relatively built-up shoulder on a jacket, as I have sloping shoulders myself; I like a slight rope to the sleevehead; and I like the gorge (where lapels and collar meet) set a little bit higher to give a longer, fuller sweep to the lapel – in this case 2.5 inches from the shoulder rather than Browne’s standard 3.5.

One last point to consider is that I will, obviously, never undo my jacket, even when sitting down. So any ways to make this more comfortable (possibly for hours on end) are a boon. Therefore the armholes will be cut rather small and high, to give maximum reach without pulling at the back of the jacket, and the sleevehead will be fuller for similar reasons – though with a roped shoulder there is already a little bit more material in the sleevehead anyway.

Next post at the first fitting, in two weeks.

Keep your jacket on

2009-06-15T08:28:00.003+01:00

Takizawa Shigeru makes beautiful suits and jackets. But while the style details of his tailoring stood out to me in a recent communication (particularly his emphasis on a very slim edge to the top of a jacket’s waist pocket), it was the philosophy that was unique.

Says Shigeru: “A gentleman must not take off his jacket too easily.”

“Even if you sweat, working at your desk, sitting at a bar or having a dinner with your sweet heart.

“Not even while you are driving.
“When men wear a suit or a jacket, he must not take off his jacket too easily.

“That I think is the man’s dignity.
Though at the same time we must not forget that this theory becomes true only if the clothing is graceful and comfortable enough for his movement.”

Allowing for Mr Shigeru’s English, it is a beautifully made point. And I don’t know whether the positioning of the text (reproduced here) was deliberate, but does add some poetry to the sentiment.

It is not easy wearing a jacket all day while sitting at your desk. It is particularly difficult if your arms are constantly stretched forwards at the keyboard. Perhaps most of all, there is little incentive to wear your jacket when air conditioning makes it unnecessary for warmth.

There are several things that a man can do to make his bespoke jackets easier to sit in – without, of course, just making them bigger. A smaller, higher armhole adds flexibility, as does a relatively large sleevehead that has been edged into that armhole. (Also, if you have slightly roped shoulder, as I prefer, the sleevehead is that little bit bigger anyway.)

You can also have pleats put into the back – either one in the middle or two at the sides (an ‘action back’). These were originally designed to make it easier for a man to point a gun for long periods of time. The same function almost applies to typing. Lastly, you can have the jacket half-lined only, which makes the back more breathable for those long hours sitting against a chair. The only disadvantage to this is that the back will lose its shape more easily.

For those without access to bespoke, these things may not be available. One solution is The Logical Waistcoat Theory, which I have written about enough to bore anyone, including me. But even if you don’t have any of these solutions to hand, you know you could wear your jacket a little bit more during the day. And if you do it will flatter your figure, add purpose to your shirt and tie, and most of all give a point to buying suits in the first place.

Interview: Patrick Grant, Norton & Sons

2009-06-12T19:46:00.001+01:00

A perennial topic on this site, and indeed other style fora, is how customers interact with their tailors when they have their first suit made.

The customer thinks he knows what he wants but he can’t quite express it – at least not in the terminology the tailor would use. And the tailor tries to divine the customer’s wishes from every source he has available: what he is already wearing, his facial expressions, his reactions to suggestions and things he tries on.

It’s a difficult process and one that takes time, hence the need for several fittings. Permanent Style spoke to Patrick Grant, owner of Norton & Sons on Savile Row, about this quandary as part of a series of pieces in a new project called Gentleman’s Corner (details to be divulged next week).

Among other things, Patrick agreed that tailors often resort to using house styles or fit generalisations (classic, slim, skinny) because of this very inability to communicate.

Permanent Style: What proportion of customers know enough about what they want when they walk in and answer all your questions?

Patrick Grant: Not many, is the honest answer. A lot of people have a good idea of how they would like to look. And a lot of them know that they like what they end up wearing, but that’s about it.

They know when the results are good. They can feel the difference from what they had before – but they won’t be able to say that the difference is because there is an inch more suppression in the waist, or the jacket is a touch longer. They know where they want to get to, but they can’t necessarily articulate how to get there.

PS: Is that first conversation difficult then?

PG: When you go into the fitting room, David [Ward, head cutter] will measure you up and have this conversation with you. It starts off a little bit broadly: ‘How would you liked this coat to be cut? Shaped, in a classic English style?’ And the customer will reply: ‘Well yes, quite shaped. But not too shaped.’

PS: So no answer at all then.

PG: Sure, but then it gets more focused, and the customer will say he doesn’t want it very fitted, really skinny. He’ll express one preference and then another, and we ease towards a vision.

Some people are also very happy to say ‘you’re the experts, you cut me a suit that is going to make me look as good as I can’. But it’s a process that takes a lot of time. On the first suit this conversation is repeated in three, sometimes four fittings. And the conversation becomes a little easier when there’s a coat to talk about and point to.

The first meeting is a little vague, but actually nine times out of ten we get it pretty right.

PS: Is it fair to say that one reason some tailors have a house style is that the customer knows what he is getting and has probably come there for that reason – saving everyone the first, vague conversation?

PG: Yes, I think that’s quite right. If you left the shape entirely up to us, you would get a suit that looks like the one on the mannequin in the shop window. That’s why the models are there, so the customer can say ‘that’s what Norton & Sons looks like, that’s what Henry Poole looks like, that’s what Huntsman looks like and this is the one I want to look like.’

PS: Do people come in and just browse sometimes? On this site we have discussed how much men would like to do that more at tailors.

PG: Absolutely, we have people come in and try suits on and have a conversation about the style, just to get an idea. It’s quite normal for people to try three or four tailors before they order.

In fact, we picked up a new customer a few weeks ago that had a suit made at ourselves and two other tailors on the Row, to see which he liked best. I won’t say who the other two were, but he had exactly the same suit, same colour same cloth, just so he could decide which he liked best.

PS: That sounds pretty meticulous. He sounds like he’s going to be a serious customer.

PG: He said he just wanted to find the best tailor for him and be able to make a real comparison.

PS: That’s what makes it hard for many newcomers to this area to get an idea of what they want – not many people, no journalist and no one on the various style sites has tried all the tailors.

PG: That’s fair. And the main reason people switch between tailors, as we’ve seen since I took over, is not an objective comparison like this customer made but just a simple feeling. They’ve been with someone for years and have a good relationship with them, but suddenly something’s just a little wrong. It’s changed and it’s not like it used to be.

Get ready. The sales are starting early

2009-06-11T15:45:00.004+01:00

The worse the economy, the earlier the sales start. Everyone is that bit more desperate to get their hands on your cash. Before anyone else does. It was the same before Christmas and, despite some positive news on the economic front in the UK, it is the same this summer.

Ralph Lauren has started its 'private sale' - meaning a sale for anyone that has ever bought anything there ever and not refused to be on the mailing list. And any other name they have got hold of. The sale starts on Saturday, until Tuesday. The official sale starts on the 18th, so expect the second wave of reductions two weeks later. And the desperate, 70% sale another fortnight after that. This is the greatest stage, but it only lasts a few days!

Other brands started even earlier - Etro's private sale was in the middle of this week.

(Oh, and is it just me or is there a typo in this advert? 50% of? Surely 50% off.)

Cheap bespoke - too good to be true?

2009-06-10T20:46:00.003+01:00

Entirely handmade shoes are not cheap. The high-end benchmade shoes are hand-clicked and hand-lasted, but not hand-welted. In this country, most of the entirely handmade ones are made bespoke. And that makes them even more expensive, as the shoe is being made unique to your foot, as well as being constructed by hand.

Most entirely handmade shoes are pushing £1000 or more. Laszlo Vass of shoemakers Vass in Hungary is one exception, but then unless you want a pair of shoes you haven’t tried on, you have to go to Budapest.

One exception has recently popped out of the brickwork. His name is Clifford Roberts and he worked for one of Northampton’s biggest shoemakers for 30 years (though he won’t say which for the sake of discretion). Having left that firm, he now makes handmade shoes from his house, just outside the town. And they start at £290. Less than £300 for entirely handmade shoes.

Since he was first discovered, on eBay and by the members of a discussion here, the timeline for the work has extended for six weeks to twelve. But that is still a lot quicker than the five months it takes, for example, for a pair of made-to-order Gaziano & Girling shoes.

Several members of the forum have made their own orders and reported their results. The quality of the leather seems to be good, the fit equally good and all the work (noticeably, the welting) all done by hand. There have been one or two criticisms that the lasts Cliff works on are ‘blobby’, but this is only one of the three or four shapes he works with – and besides, it is a question of taste.

Now, the dream of any shoe geek is to be able to get bespoke handmade shoes at an affordable price. If Cliff can make handmade shoes, is there any way he can do bespoke? Well, in theory yes.

Pretty much all the lasts in this country are made by Spring Line in Northampton. The only remaining last-maker in Britain, the company makes wood and plastic lasts for everyone from Nike to Edward Green. They will make you a bespoke last for around £190 – just send them a 2D foot draft or a 3D foot scan.

The first of these methods of measurement should be done after requesting specific instructions from Spring Line. Or, ideally, by getting an experienced shoemaker to make a draft of your feet. The second method, though, is pretty easy to accomplish. Just go along to Lodger, the new shoe company on Clifford Street that has been mentioned on this site before. They use an electronic scanning and imaging machine to build up a 3D picture of your foot. It’s for their shoes, but they won’t mind doing it for your own use as well.

So measurements from Lodger, a bespoke last from Spring Line and then handmade shoes on that last from Cliff Roberts. Bespoke shoes for less than £500?

Well, not quite. You see, bespoke shoemaking is not that straightforward. No one gets your last and shoe right the first time. If you have a bespoke pair of shoes made at, say, Foster & Son, the process will involve several fittings. First you will get a trial shoe, only half made or constructed in a cheap leather than can be thrown away afterwards. You try that, you make a few comments and the last is adjusted accordingly. Even when the final shoe is constructed it can be altered, and often the last will be tweaked slightly for the next order.

So to recreate this experience at Spring Line would take more than one visit to Northampton. For someone in the UK, this makes it a little tiresome. For someone in the US, it makes it impossible or very expensive – particularly given the extra steps and communication between the two craftsmen, of lasts and of shoes, that wouldn’t be needed at a bespoke shoemaker.

The other catch, of course, is that your last could only be in one toe shape. If you are at all interested in design, this could be a constriction. You could have another last made, but it would cost another £190.

Now if you already have a bespoke last you are happy with, you’re sorted. Just send it to Cliff with some instructions. Very few shoemakers will do made-to-order shoes on a bespoke last – they would rather you went through their bespoke service. But Cliff will do it for the same price.

Also, if you have very unusual feet (and live in the UK) it is still probably worth the effort to work with Spring Line and Cliff to get a last you are happy with. If you don’t, then (blasphemous as it is to say) ready-to-wear shoes are a good bet. The advantages of bespoke are not the same for everyone.

Reader question: Fake welts and lacing

2009-06-08T10:01:00.004+01:00

Patrick: I recently had a pair of black cap-toe boots repaired and afterwards the cobbler explained to me that my Banana Republic boots had fake welts. I realized that I hadn’t really paid enough attention to a lot of shoe details. Among the questions I had were:

Is there a preferred way to lace dress shoes? I searched online and came up with this site http://www.fieggen.com/
shoelace/lacingmethods.htm which lists 33 different methods for lacing shoes. Most seem inappropriate for dress shoes, but it also didn’t address the issue of stitching the bottom set of holes with laces over or under the holes. Also, have you ever gotten taps installed on your leather bottom shoes to extend their durability?

Thanks for all the all the great information. I have yet to find another blog that offers such keen and timeless insight into men’s style.

Thank you for the questions, Patrick, and your kind words. I’m afraid you have fallen into a design trap of some of the bigger US brands that sell their own shoes. As brands like Banana Republic are design-driven rather than craft-driven, they don’t worry much about the construction details that are the focus of much of classic men’s style sites like this one and the various fora.

I believe all shoes sold by Banana Republic are glued rather than stitched, and certainly not Goodyear welted, like classic British shoes. Someone in the design team may have decided, however, that they want to produce a British-looking shoe (driven, perhaps, by the return of the brogue into fashion through Thom Browne, Grenson collaborations etc.). So they have produced a glued shoe that looks like it is welted. The only advice I can give is to shop at a more traditional English store next time – for the same price (around $140 I think) you could get a pair of Barker or Loake shoes that will last you far longer.

(A little aside on Loake, make sure you look at the product details on their site as to where the shoes are made. Despite the song-and-dance about British workmanship on the homepage, some of the Design range is made in India.)

On lacing for dress shoes, most people use the straight (European) lacing from that site and I would recommend it. It looks neater to have straight bars across the eyelets, and having a criss-cross underneath makes them much easier to tighten. Start with the laces going over the bottom two eyelets. On more casual shoes a criss-cross lacing on top can look good, but that’s more a question of taste.

Lastly, I tend to avoid metal taps on shoes but it is largely because I can’t stand the sound they make. Sounds like I’m on the parade ground on in a tap-dancing troupe. They can also be a little slippery. But some people do like them and they are certainly effective. And having plastic ones can avoid the two problems I bring up. I would recommend you try them and see.