Reminiscing With Toby Luper, Hemingway Tailors

As an Englishman interested in classic style, it strikes as a particular shame that the industrial manufacture of clothes has suffered so much in this country. Leeds used to be world famous for its suit production, for example, a natural home for the industry being so close to the mills of Huddersfield. And while England still has some of the finest tailors in the world and punches well above its weight in fashion design, domestic manufacturing is a woeful hole.

It was fascinating, therefore, to meet Toby Luper this week. Now a visiting tailor, Toby’s family used to run the biggest suit factory in the country: Black and Luper of Kirkstall Road, Leeds. Back in the 1950s the factory, run by Norman Black and Stanley Luper (Toby’s father), employed hundreds of workers and made thousands of suits for Burtons and Burberry, amongst others. Largely made-to-measure garments, the workers spent their days tending the machines – though there were always tailors on site to correct any mistakes made in the process.

It was the loss of the Burberry raincoat contract in 1991 that triggered the factory’s demise. Having begun his career selling his father’s excess suits from a warehouse in Leeds, and later joining the company proper, Toby tried to rebuild the family business under the name Executex. When that didn’t work out, he turned to personal tailoring.

And while much of Leeds’ business elite now wears Toby’s suits, more than half of his business is now in London. Coming down once a week, or whenever clients request it, Toby visits bankers in their office or uses the Holland & Sherry fitting rooms on Savile Row.

Bespoke starts at £1,850 and made-to-measure £550. The former requires a paper pattern, cutting and sewing by hand in Leeds. Toby brings all his suits to London for fittings (though preferring just the one, forward fitting). The latter is fitted here but made by a company in the Czech Republic, one that Toby’s family has worked with for more than 20 years.

Toby is not only enthusiastic but fastidious about his work. Our half-hour conversation included a debate on pre-made shoulder pads, the merits of a basted fitting and how many men would notice the difference (at first blush) between made-to-measure and bespoke. Sadly from my perspective, but perhaps fortunately for them, the answer is not very many.

There was time for a little reminiscing about the days when England was a clothing powerhouse, though. Like the work ethic his father instilled in him. The first day Toby joined, his father made him sweep the warehouse, so that he always had a riposte if an employee refused to do it. Sounds fun.

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Where To Shop In New Zealand

You may have thought I was being overly harsh about New Zealand in my last post, even unnecessarily superior. So this post is the counter point if you like, including some useful tips and suggestions should you find yourself despatched to the end of the World by your government or employer.

The sad thing is that, despite the reluctance of most men to take an interest in their appearance, there is a thriving independent designer scene and some perfectly solid antipodean high-street retailers.

Aside from Rixon Groove in Wellington, which I’ve already highlighted, if you’re in Auckland then the areas known as Parnell and Newmarket are the places to start. Parnell is mainly boutique style stores, interior design, art galleries and jewellers, not to mention cafes. Newmarket on the other hand is clothing orientated. All the outlets I encountered were home grown or from next door neighbour Australia. The creativity and originality, for a country with such a small population, really puts the monotonous high streets over here to shame.

In terms of easy high street options there is Rodd & Gunn, a very rough approximation would be a Kiwi version of Hackett -presenting a stylised notion of their nation’s sartorial traditions and qualities of manhood. That means simplicity, subtlety, comfort, practicality and quality. This last point, quality, is particularly welcome; all Rodd & Gun clothing comes with a two year guarantee. Their motto is: “If it’s not the best, we don’t sell it. If it’s not perfect, we’ll replace it. If it’s not guaranteed, it’s not Rodd & Gunn”. All the clothes have an outdoorsy feel, and they’re also the official clothier of the New Zealand All Blacks. I’ve bought bits on my sojourns to New Zealand and have been very happy.

In addition to this you have Australian retailer Country Road, a Gap equivalent, with some good basic kit and a sound overall aesthetic. If you’re looking for business shirts then try 3 Wise Men. Founded by three guys who wanted a London type shirt retailer, they approximate to TM Lewin/Thomas Pink. While they haven’t quite learnt how to copy an up market Jermyn Street shirt as Lewin’s has, they nonetheless have a nice cut and good, high, well designed fused collars, with removable collar stiffeners. I have a few of their shirts and prefer them to many London high street offerings.

So, if you find yourself out there, the sartorially inclined need not abandon hope.

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What’s A Nice Shoe Like You Doing In A Sale Like This

Trawling through the sales at department stores such as Selfridges and Harrods is no happy experience. Harrods is generally unbearable even out-of-season but smack bang in the middle of the January sales it is a tortuous whirligig that manages to make me feel physically ill. If you sell ‘all things for all people’ then you should certainly expect the latter when you offer the former for a greatly reduced price; expect them to push, expect them to shove, trample and snatch.

As much preparation time as they are afforded (virtually the entire calendar year) it is remarkable how consistently chaotic and zoo-like such establishments become in the weeks after Christmas. What is even more incredible is that the stock which, at any other time, is treated by staff with a reverence and protection causing customers to wonder whether they have stumbled into a museum by mistake, is suddenly no longer worthy of the ‘touché-pas’ pedestals; magnificently overpriced baubles, bags and beads, no longer behind glass, are left to the mercy of bargain-thirsty shoppers who rifle through stock piles and scarf bins like primates dismantling an automobile.

It was amongst this mess that I found some of the most splendid examples of footwear I have ever seen. It was an uncanny setting; dumped alongside some of the most vulgar (D&G flipflops) and absurd (Dior trainers) aberrations of shoemaking, they shone with a peculiar quality that set them apart from all other examples. They reminded me of the bespoke examples that sat in the window of Foster & Son or Cleverley with a patina to the leather reminiscent of antique furniture and a shape, classic yet contemporary, that distinguished them from the winkle-pickers and square toes that surrounded them.

The style of the shoes, though slightly fantastical (imagine Tim Burton conjuring a film about a cobbler) is beautiful to behold; the only thing that prevented me from purchasing a pair was the still-prohibitive sale price of £550 (reduced from £800). A pair of the green (yes, green) crocodile shoes, originally £5,000, were reduced to £3,500.

The Stefano and Mario Limited Edition Line is produced by the well known Italian shoe company, Stemar. It would be a disservice to say they are ‘manufactured.’ Manufacture is a cheap and greasy term that invokes a sense of scale and the Stefano and Mario collection, with only 100 pairs of each style produced each season, can hardly be considered an operation of ‘scale.’ According to Stemar it takes approximately 4 weeks to produce an “unfinished shoe” – “15 days during which the shoe must remain in the last, and at least a couple of days for finishing and polishing.”

And indeed, it is the finishing and polishing that distinguishes these shoes; “painted” Stemar say “like works of art.” Firstly, the skin is massaged with cream and a soft cloth. This is followed by days of patient polishing – a technique corroborated by a gentleman at Cleverley who informed me that the ‘old furniture’ look is about using different tones of polish and takes “a very, very long time” – and then the shoes are ironed by hand and naturally waxed to give them a deep shine. The result, as Stemar states, is a “superb pair of shoes” with deep coloured veins “…intense, artistic, just like an oil painting: hues of chestnut, brandy, walnut, hot orange, forest green and mocha.”

Besides being available at Harrods and Selfridges, they are also offered for sale in Milan, Florence and Rome, Paris, Montreux, Istanbul, New York, San Francisco, Enschede and Laren (Holland) and, interestingly, in Lagos, Nigeria, Tomsk in Russia and, perhaps appropriately, a store in Kiev called ‘Rich Boutique.’

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Two Questions About Wedding Attire

It must be the season for planning weddings. Not only did one of my best friends get engaged (congratulations Henry) I had two questions this week about what to wear as a groom.

KL: Mr Crompton, I’m an avid reader of your blog and I’ve loved your posts on what to wear to a wedding. I’d love to hear more of your thoughts though if you were the groom at an informal wedding. I’ve been thinking of a couple of possibilities like a grey 1b peak w/ db vest, navy db, navy 2b peak sb, navy/grey Hunstman-style 1b suits. I have a houndstooth Macclesfield or a champagne tie that I love and may wear for personal significance.

Peter: Dear Simon, I am a long time reader of Permanent Style. Happily, I am getting married this summer - in the middle of August. There is pressure from the bride for this to be a formal wedding, but her definition of formal doesn’t extend much beyond a dinner jacket and black bowtie. I am not certain that that is entirely appropriate for a church wedding and would like to wear something a little more personal. My initial thoughts are: Black, SB, notched, black silk lapel, possibly with an heirloom silver button (instead of a silk-covered button). Black trousers with silk along the seam. Waistcoat in a dark, dark green (Favourbrook has some nice ones). White shirt, black tie (not bowtie), white pocket square.

Now my opinion on wedding attire can be summarised in the following, hopefully logical, points.

First, propriety is king. So if there is an obvious dress code, either stated or implicit, stay within it. Do not upstage anyone, especially the groom. Be smart enough, even a little smarter than the rest of the guests, but do not stand out like a sore thumb. This is not your day. And if the dress code is black tie, much as I hate that American tendency at daytime weddings, wear it.

Second, if there is no obvious dress code other than being smart, feel free to take it down a notch sartorially. I know that, as a formal day event, you should be wearing morning dress, and if not that then the smartest lounge suit you own: navy single-breasted, crisp white shirt, black oxfords, probably a grey or silver tie.

But that’s too near business dress to be any fun these days. Men never get a chance to wear casual suits, linens, cotton and silk, let alone bright colours. So go wild and enjoy it when you can. Otherwise no one would wear checks or spectators.

My general opinions stated, let’s turn to the questions. Both KL and Peter are keen to go down the formal route without wearing black tie or tails. Good for them. KL has the right idea on dressing up the lounge suit, going for peak lapels and a double-breasted waistcoat. These are both great ideas, particularly if you will rarely wear them on any other occasion. Either navy or mid-grey, with either tie.

Peter is seeking more to put a personal spin on black tie. This can be done in a number of ways, including a shawl collar, double-breasted, even a velvet jacket. But if you’re going to do black tie, Peter, eschew coloured waistcoats. The jacket should have peak lapels and you need something to cover your waistband – cummerbund, waistcoat or double-breasted.

Or how about another suggestion Peter? An old-style stroller – black, SB or DB, peaked lapel jacket in serge or cashmere. Pale grey trousers, white shirt, white handkerchief, Macclesfield tie, black shoes. Keep it monotone. It’ll looker smarter than what everyone else is wearing, but individual too.

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Thoughts on New Zealand

New Zealand is a country with so much to offer, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend you visit it at least once. Indeed, my recent second visit left just as profound a mark as my first.

However, for all my admiration I think if I lived there I would go off my rocker. Firstly, I didn’t see one attractive woman – other than the one I took with me. Secondly, and most importantly, Kiwi men are utterly unrepentant in their desire to dress badly. Indeed, they almost revel in it.

Any kind of interest in clothing is viewed as effeminate. It was as though the last forty years in male clothing and grooming hadn’t happened. Something as common place in Europe as a pink shirt is viewed with the very greatest suspicion. I was even pilloried for deck shoes. It was considered great sport by my girlfriend’s family to get me to wear a pair of jandals (read flip-flops).

So what do I mean by badly dressed? For the most part I’m talking about a complete a lack of flair, care, quality and above all effort. The antipodean stereotype of stubbies (short short), singlet and work boots was all too common. But even going out to dinner it was not uncommon to see men in flip-flops. At best you’d see an excess of the purely mundane - poorly tailored jeans and uninspiring tops and trainers or work boots.

In some ways this is a factor of the outdoorsy, active lifestyle New Zealand provides. You’re not going to wear a linen suit on the beach, but there are ways to dress well and comfortably. Well tailored shorts and polo provides both comfort and, depending on colour and pattern, a degree of relaxed elegance, if done right. For the most part all I saw were men throwing on cheap, scruffy clothes without effort or care. Harmony of pattern and colour was for the most part absent.

Of course every country has its poorly dressed contingent, even in metropolitan centres. But for all the country’s natural beauty, even in the most cosmopolitan of NZ’s cities, I still couldn’t claim to have seen anyone I regarded as well dressed.

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