British Bespoke – Part 2

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.

Links: Summer Look, Roger Federer, Closet Cleaning…

• The summer look… can it get any better than this? (thesartorialist.blogspot.com)

• Apparently, it can. (thesartorialist.blogspot.com)

• Roger Federer bringing cool back to the court. (thedailystyle.blogspot.com)

• Keep only clothing you actually wear. (madetomeasureny.com)

• All you need (not) to know about cufflinks fashion in UK. (filmnoirbuff.com)

• First look at GANT S/S 2010 collection. (acontinuouslean.com)

• Don’t miss up to 50% off S/S ‘09 J. Crew ‘Final sale.’ (jcrew.com)

Why Men Are Scared Of Real Trousers

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.

Ha! You Think These Are Golf Shoes?

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) and ask how the greens were that morning.

Cheap Bespoke Part 2

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.