The Unmade Suit

If I stand side-on to the mirror, it almost looks like a real suit. Of course, it only has one arm and the front and back panels are covered in stitching. But you can’t see that from the side.

I can’t stand like that for long, as Edward Tam is hovering with intent. I’m having my first fitting for a double-breasted suit in Hong Kong, and he thinks there is a little too much give up the back. Quick as a flash, he pins up a half inch, pinching it in a long dorsal fin.

I’m trying to remember all the fit points I should mention. And writing them down in advance is my top tip to you. I was arrogant and thought I wouldn’t forget any. I did. Most of the important ones came to mind, however – the break of the trousers (to my taste, so there is no break in the back line, just the front), the length of the jacket (my taste is a little shorter than normal, about in line with the middle of my thumb when my hands are at my sides) and the length of the sleeves (again, I like it a little shorter, with half and inch of shirt showing with my arms at my sides, over an inch when the arm is at my chest).

Interestingly, Mr Tam and his colleague were sceptical about the sleeve length. In Asia they tend to be rather longer, apparently. But they were happy with my demands and didn’t seem too unimpressed with the result. It is probably as important to be confident in your demands as it is to know they are correct.

Aside from not quibbling over sleeves, the best way Mr Tam showed his quality to me as a tailor was picking up on aspects of my body shape that I was already aware of. For example, I have wide but sloping shoulders. In many off-the-peg suits this has the annoying effect of letting the shoulders of the jacket droop a little, creating folds under the arm. Edward picked up on this when we discussed the “natural” curve of the unmade suit I had on – if the shoulder were any more unpadded, he pointed out, it would reveal my sloping figure and be uncomplimentary.

Edward got a mental tick in my head for picking up on that. And it is probably worth you bearing something similar in mind were you to go through this experience. Go into any high-end suit shop and ask the oldest member of staff for his advice on how a jacket fits. If he knows his stuff he will list all your pluses and minuses, making you fully equipped to rate your tailor.

The suit should be ready this afternoon. I’m rather nervous about it – particularly as the half-made suit I tried on didn’t have its deep purple lining. It might look awful.

Hello from Hong Kong: Tailor Report

When you leave the underground at Tsim Sha Tsui, it’s not immediately obvious where the Regal Kowloon Hotel might be. Street signs are infrequent and not always translated into English, and the sheer profusion of Chinese symbols, hoardings and tower blocks is apt to confuse.

Fortunately, the locals are friendly and a quick inquiry directs you down Mody Road. In the marble-floored mezzanine, hiding around a corner, is the office of Edward Tam, director of E.Italian tailors.

There are too many tailors in Hong Kong to tell which are of any quality. And even if you get a recommendation from a friend, his positive experience doesn’t guarantee one for you. Many of the staff in our office out here have had suits made on the recommendation of a colleague, only to be disappointed. Indeed, our resident journalist in Hong Kong had a suit made at Sam the Tailor, who comes recommended by Tony Blair and Jude Law. The suit had very square shoulders and too-wide trousers. The trousers, of course, could be altered, but the shoulders are harder to do.

But then Edward Tam has been making suits for my father for three years, and he has yet to be disappointed. The key is to know what you want, including getting the best materials.

As Mr Tam measured me for a suit this morning, a list of requirements and specifications ran through my head. These are important to remember, as a tailor won’t necessarily ask you for all of them.

For example, how wide do you like your trouser legs? Unless you specify this, the tailor is likely to give you what he considers to be the standard. In Asia, this is rather wider than in Europe. How about the width of your lapels? You may not think these are that important, but there’s always a chance a tailor will make them a little broader than you like. As with the trouser legs, I recommend measuring a suit you like at home, just so you know in advance.

So that’s fit. It’s also worth going for the best materials. The one thing you can guarantee with a luxury brand suit is that the material will be very good. It might not fit you, it might not be made by hand, and it may not even be canvassed, but the wool will be of decent quality.

At the tailor, the best way to identify the materials is if any of them are textures or names you know. If it looks like the worsted or flannel on something you already own, you’re halfway there. If it looks like an odd, slightly shiny weave, there’s a chance there will be some manmade material mixed in, which won’t last so well. And look out for the big names in wool – Ermenegildo Zegna and Loro Piana, as the biggest and best of Italian woolmakers, are a good sign.

Mr Tam had a selection of both, as well as some infuriatingly tempting cashmeres. All at once, I was considering a navy blue, cashmere overcoat. What an extravagance that would be.

First fitting for a double-breasted, grey flannel suit and mid-blue shirt is tomorrow. I will report back on whether either the fit or the material disappoint.

Designer vs. High Street: My View

Ideally, buying designer clothes should be about design.

Runway shows have a perennial fascination because they showcase (in rapid, often dazzling procession) a series of unique and original designs. They are a flick-book approach to art – glimpses into the mind of a designer with one theme, and perhaps hundreds of preoccupations.

The best designer stores, equally, are fascinating. Glancing through rails, even just taking in the mannequins and their lighting, pose, dress, can be an aesthetic pleasure, akin to any exhibition of design. One walks out the best of them feeling inspired (even if you couldn’t afford anything inside).

But many designer purchases are about three values, only one of which is design. Those other two values are branding and quality.

When making such a purchase, bear in mind which of those three values you are prioritising and why. This will help you decide whether to opt for that designer bag or its high-street equivalent.

Branding
The first value, branding, can be dealt with most easily. Everyone succumbs to it to a greater or lesser extent – the desire to belong to that view of life, that aesthetic, to buy into it and possess a part of it. While this is objectively the least rational value, it would be churlish to condemn it. And without it life would be a little duller. Buy into it if you want, but be conscious what you are doing.

Quality
Buying something for the quality of its workmanship is far more rational. It will last longer, and look smarter for a greater proportion of that time. In the case of classic men’s clothes such as suits and shoes, that quality will mean something lasts for a decade rather than a year.

Designer clothes will be better made than high-street ones. But the difference may not be as large as you think. Many suits, for instance, are made in the same factories for different brands – one buyer told me that Austin Reed, Aquascutum and Gieves & Hawkes suits are all made in the same factory despite representing high street, designer and tailoring in many people’s minds.

Some of those suits are only super 100s or below, and fused rather than canvassed. Designer doesn’t necessarily mean quality. Research the brand and know what you are buying if you want quality – Mulberry bags, for instance, are designer and they are still made in England and will last a lifetime.

Design
Design has value when it’s unique. So buy designer clothes for their design when you can’t find them anywhere else. As with much in this posting, this has an echo in Winston Chesterfield’s thoughts last week – I would pick out his sunglasses example as something that can easily be copied, and so found on the high street. Buying a designer version seems pointless. You are not buying it for design or for quality. It’s all about value number three: branding.

Other examples of pieces that can easily be copied are belts, hats, ties and socks. You may buy a designer version of this for its superior quality, but not for its design. The pieces that are worth buying for their unique design are those that are complicated: suits, dresses, jackets, shoes. They are unlikely to be copied well.

So, in answer to the question of whether to buy high-street or designer clothes, I say: analyse where the value is. Is it in design, in quality or just in branding? Thinking through those three should make the decision easy.

It Could Have Been So Much Better

Among my peers, Savile Row, its suits and tailors, is a thing of aspiration. It makes the best suits, has dressed the best people and justly carries an air of arrogance. One day, when we have enough money to sensibly spend a lot of it on a very nice suit, that is where we will go, with a certain amount of trepidation. There is a readymade market among British youth there, all with accelerating income and aspirations to luxury that include Huntsman, Poole and the rest.

The tragedy is that the BBC series on Savile Row may have popped this bubble, by trying to lure exactly that youth market.

Monday’s final episode in this series was entitled New Blood, and focused on the need for Savile Row to hire talented young tailors that are willing to stay in one unglamorous career their whole lives, for the love of the job and without much pay (at least to begin with).

Unfortunately, all it did was highlight once again Savile Row Bespoke’s mistaken efforts to brand the street as a whole, to bring together disparate individuals into one marketing exercise. The SRB association is planning to set up an academy to train young tailors. Unfortunately, one tailor further down the Row that is not a member of SRB has the same idea. Or, rather, a slightly different idea: he wants his own academy because he feels the work done on the rest of the Row is not up to scratch.

The two meet, have a reasonably gentlemanly discussion and depart, each refusing the other’s offer. So now any young man (or, increasingly, woman) wanting to be trained by the best has to choose between the Savile Row Academy and Savile Row Bespoke training. Both claim to be superior and to be aiming for the same thing, and will likely offer nothing to the potential tailor that clarifies the situation.

It reminds me of the many language schools that set up in Oxford so they can call themselves The Oxford School of Languages, trying to lure in foreign students who think they are somehow being admitted to Oxford University. Some even set up on Oxford Street with the same intention.

This view of the Row – as confused and unwieldy, amateurish in the extreme – is bemoaned even more by those closely associated with it. As Thomas Mahon says on his excellent blog English Cut, “I never thought I’d see the day that a programme about the business I’ve been involved with all my life could possibly make me cringe so much. It was all very sad and tragic.”

“It appears that Savile Row Bespoke is doing a better job than all the high rents, bad exchange rates and global fashion brands could ever do at eating away at the core of what makes Savile Row a wonderful and unique place.”

It will never puncture the image of Savile Row sufficiently for me. But for others it may well have done. It is a real shame that SRB (credited by this programme and therefore presumably involved) thought a documentary would help spread the Savile Row word, when it has undone anything positive that professional, targeted advertising would have achieved.

A Hole in the Made-to-Measure Market

The problem with made-to-measure suits in most of Europe is that they are an afterthought.

Most of the high-street brands offer made-to-measure, where a tailor takes somewhere between eight and twenty measurements and creates a block for the factory to make your suit by. Hackett offers it, Austin Reed offers it. So do Aquascutum and foreign chains such as Massimo Dutti, or American chains such as Brooks Brothers.

But they are all afterthoughts – a desk and book of swatches lies at the back of the store, waiting without much anticipation for that customer who wants something a little more personal.

And that is how it is often sold, as the opportunity to customise your suit or shirt. Pick your lining, pick your buttons, have your initials sown into the cuff. Well if that’s all you want, it would be a lot easier to take your shirts to a tailor willing to sow something onto them for you. Or even to replace the lining.

The real selling point of made-to-measure (one that is rarely used in these high street stores – as they rarely try to sell the service at all) is that the suit actually fits. Few people can pick up a suit which is measured by one thing – your chest size – and have it fit them well. Even if you pay for a few alterations here and there.

As the subject of my last posting, Hardy Amies has it: “Normal figure: There is no such animal. You may be ‘stock’ size so far as chest and leg measurements are concerned, but it is 99% certain that you will have some idiosyncrasy of figure that makes you not abnormal but simply individual.”

Everyone should buy made-to-measure if they can. And they may be able to, thanks to the launch of Suit Supply in the UK. This Dutch brand launched on December 12 last year, setting up shop at 9 Vigo Street – at the head of Savile Row. It offers made-to-measure from £300 for its English wools and £600 for the Italians.

It can be that cheap because everything is geared to economies of scale. It has its own factory. It can mass-order fabrics. It offers the three most popular colours (mid-grey, charcoal, navy) at the cheapest price, because these are ordered in the greatest volume. As made-to-measure is its main business, there is someone on the shop floor dedicated to that service.

A computerised ordering system tells the factory immediately whether your stance is stooped or straight, whether your right arm is a little shorter than your left, and how high up you like the waist of your trousers. It is made-to-measure, made efficient.

(Have a look at www.suitsupply.co.uk. The website is pretty fun as well – try dragging the pictures around! Those in the US, you may have to wait a while for this to come your way. It’s only Belgium, the Netherlands and the UK so far.)