Made To Measure Suiting at Stephan Shirts: Part 3

As of this moment, I am a very happy man.

Why? You might ask (even if you didn’t ask I’m going to tell you).

On Saturday I visited Erlend Norby at Stephen Shirts to try on my new made-to-measure suit. You might remember we had Part 1 and Part 2 over 5 weeks ago now. Well, the suit was made up and Erlend wanted me to come in and try it on.

As I stated before, made-to-measure gets a bad rap, deservedly so in most cases. But, and it’s a big but, it does have one advantage over bespoke, namely price. Of course you’re only getting a good deal if what you’re paying for is worth the money. At a starting price of £495, the service Erlend provides is most definitely value for money. The suit is not quite finished, but this is where Erlend’s credentials as a trained Savile Row cutter and tailor once again come into their own.

If you remember we deliberately chose a difficult design for this commission, a Kent style 4×2 Double Breasted. The difficulty comes not only in the button placement but getting a soft roll to the lapel, something normally only available with bespoke, because of the need for handwork to stitch in a floating canvas. However, Erlend uses one of the few manufacturers with machines capable of replicating this handwork, and is thereby able to provide a full floating canvas. We added additional complications by making it soft shouldered and cutting two different styles of trouser.

The reason Erlend wanted me in was to get the button placement exactly right so he could then cut the buttonholes. This is all part of the normal care he takes with any commission and while he doesn’t have second fittings as such he is able to make any alterations. Indeed, as he put it to me, “I could completely take the suit apart and rebuild it if necessary. There’s really nothing we can’t alter or fix”. Now, you don’t get that with most made-to-measure providers.

Well we did make a few additional alterations. You can possibly make out the tailors chalk where Erlend is going to take a little more cloth out of the chest and improve the armhole further. There was also a little more cloth across the back than he thought there should be, and the same with the jacket skirt where it meets the jacket flap. But these are minor adjustments which take excellent to perfect.

So far everything has exceeded my highest hopes. The softly tailored shoulders are perfect, the first time I’ve ever owned a jacket that was. Despite putting on a bit of weight these last few years, he managed to provide some waist suppression. The sleeves are wonderfully narrow, which makes a bigger difference to the illusion of being svelte than you’d imagine. Both pairs of trousers are exactly what I wanted particularly the Italian styled flat front pair with narrower legs. Flat front trousers are the ruination of bigger built men, so the fact these looked so good is a testament to Erlend’s skill.

I pick up the finished product on Friday.

Brand Review: Ignatious Joseph

I daren’t count my shirts. I have so many of them that I have dedicated an entire wardrobe to them – space which, to be honest, I can ill afford – and they hang there not in the happy glory of enshrinement but positively wedged into the space; so much so that when I open the doors to remove my shirt for the day, I am forced to rearrange the collection in order to avoid damage. Each time this occurs, I deliver to myself the same, useless mantra; ‘No more. NO more.’

Useless, for I have no will to refrain from shirt purchases. For some men, buying a shirt is like buying milk at the supermarket. You’re convinced you need it because everyone else seems to be buying it, but when you get home you realise the fridge is already an overstuffed lactose orgy. It doesn’t help that I live a hop, skip and a jump from Jermyn Street, the ‘home of shirts’, where tourists crowd the chain-boutiques of TM Lewin and Hawes & Curtis, and gasp in incredulity that you can actually purchase a formal shirt for under £35.

Spoiled as I am, I have little manufacturer variety in my collection – as kaleidoscopic as the colours and patterns are, the labels are limited. A problem? Probably not; if you find a shirt store that caters for your needs, why change?

Ignatious Joseph became known to me through the great multitude of coverage in online blogging; there he was photographed at Pitti Uomo by Scott Schuman, there he was being interviewed by an online magazine. I knew of his product, fine Italian-made shirts, but I didn’t really know his product; I am pleased to say that the latter problem has now been corrected. I am the owner of a splendid pale pink Ign. Joseph shirt (pictured above) that possesses one of the most gorgeous collars I have ever owned.

Unlike many of my other shirts, the Ign. Joseph shirt has a deceptively robust construction; deceptive because it looks and feels no stronger than any other cotton shirt. Though I was impressed with the details – chunky mother-of-pearl buttons the colour of antique bone, long Italian cuffs – it was the way in which the unbuttoned torso retained structure that excited me. I was used to my unbuttoned shirts crumpling under my jackets; wrinkling plackets, sinking collars. To actually wear a shirt that stood up so well was an unexpected pleasure.

Ign. Joseph shirts are made of fine Egyptian cotton, woven and sewn by experienced shirtmakers in Italy and the wonderful collars, hand-sewn (non-fused), are one of the hallmarks of the brand, the other of course being the elegant and passionate proprietor himself, the charming Ignatious. Whilst his team of shirtmakers cut, thread and knot in Piedmont, across the Alps in Dusseldorf, Ignatious holds court in his spectacular red shoes, espousing the virtues of quality over mass production, of individuality over mass appeal and of shirts over everything else. As Ignatious says, “…The shirt is an intimate garment that must merit confidence”; a shirt dignifies and protects.

Once accustomed to the easy elegance of an Ign. Joseph, the cheaply produced wares from certain shirtmakers – though relatively speaking, excellent value for money – feel somewhat inadequate and not just for the superficiality of plastic buttons or even the fused collars. I felt flattered in my Ign. Joseph; a sensation other shirts seldom offer.

Made in Britain

Once you’re on the radar of the PR companies you’re apt to get inundated with invites to new season collections, and this is AW11 preview time. I do accept the odd one or two connected to labels that interest me or from whom I buy stuff. That to me seems reasonable, and doesn’t compromise my independence.

Perhaps the most significant trend I’ve spotted, and one I sincerely hope outlasts a mere season, is the prevalence of ‘Made in Britain’.

Once upon a time cloth and clothing was the very foundation of Britain’s wealth. Sadly the post war years were ones of decline, with the trend in the last two decades for UK labels to outsource to China and India merely hastening that decline.

Many of the problems within the industry were self inflicted; a failure to update old fashioned practices, follow customer trends, and a complete inability to market the product properly were hallmarks of Britain’s industrial decline, and the textile industry was no exception. After all, the Italians managed to maintain a healthy manufacturing sector despite cheaper competition from the Far East.

One also shouldn’t discount the fact that we British are a ruthless people, far less inclined towards sentimentality and patriotism than you might suspect. Not only do British businesses plump for cheaper foreign suppliers and manufacturers with little hesitation, most consumers are quite content to abandon a British brand if they think they can get a better deal elsewhere.

Of course outposts of the British textile manufacture did remain, but these were far from the mainstream. The cloth books of bespoke tailors, and the tailors themselves, seemed the only bulwarks. There were other outposts, firms like John Smedley and Cooper & Stollbrand for example, but they dealt in small volumes for the luxury market. As my visit to John Smedley showed these were far from big operations, and the companies whose cloths they made seemed almost reluctant to broadcast their British credentials. Made in Britain was an afterthought, hidden away on an inside care label.

But the resurgent interest in British bespoke tailoring, the rise of headline grabbing independent labels like Albam, and even small, less well known labels like Jack Russell seemed at least to provide some stability and stop the rot. Indeed, for these businesses ‘Made in Britain’ became their Unique Selling Point (USP), something to boast about, a reason to choose them over the high street with justifiably higher price tags to suit.

Of course one cannot discount the affects of a gradual revulsion, or at least disillusionment, with the more unpleasant side of globalisation. When your clothes are made by children and women in Asian sweatshops and come at the price of human dignity, how ‘cheap’ is cheap? And as the world gets smaller the desire for something authentic, a connection to the clothes we buy, has turned ‘Made in Britain’ into a profitable and desirable attribute.

This move took another leap forward, and struck me as significant, this week with a visit to the AW11 press day for British high-street label Jaeger. When I saw last season’s collection a mere 15% was manufactured in Britain, for this season it’s closer to 50% and rising. What is more, ‘Made in Britain’ is writ large with new prominent labels proudly disclosing the country of manufacture. Manufactured in the same factory as Aquascutum clothing, which isn’t surprising given both are owned by Harold Tillman, the fact that one high street retailer is doing it, and making it such a prominent feature of trade, will likely mean the others follow suit.

Speaking as one who is from tip to toe Made in Britain, this is a high street fashion trend I warmly welcome.

A Study in Patience and Craft: Interview with Adam Atkinson of CHERCHBI

A while ago I highlighted Adam Atkinson and his range of British made bags comprising a unique cloth made from the wool of the ancient rare-breed Herdwick sheep. Patented as Herdwyck No.10, the cloth is the product of 3 years trial and error.

While Adam and his business are currently based up in Kendal (home of the mint cake), on his most recent visit to London I caught up with Adam to discuss his bags, business and Herdwyck No.10. It also offered me a chance to see the range of bags in the flesh.

Adam is a wonderfully approachable and down to earth guy, who two weeks after our meeting eloped with his fiancé to Gretna Green to wed and spent his honeymoon in a camper van driving around Scotland.

Having undertaken a fashion and marketing degree at Newcastle University the first years of Adam’s working life were spent in the marketing, sourcing and design departments of first Nike and then Puma.

It was his time at Nike that set him on his current path, albeit in a round about way. Much of his time was focused on production in China, and increasingly he despaired of inhabiting a world which was focused on making more and more petro-chemical based product faster and cheaper. He quit and returned to Kendal, England, determined to set up his own venture, although he knew not what.

CHERCHBI took some time to come to fruition, but that desire for something better, with an emphasis on nature and craft, has in my view resulted in a range of bags that is truly remarkable. They also have a natural beauty which encapsulates this most beautiful part of England’s green and pleasant land.

Many brands strive for the prefix luxury. Many more through clever marketing successfully bestow it upon themselves. In truth almost none deserve it. CHERCHBI is an exception. Whether we’re talking about the difficulty of producing the cloth, the use of locally sourced materials or the time taken to get the curve of shoulder straps just right, these bags are genuinely crafted and that makes them deserving of the prefix luxury.

Where does CHERCHBI come from?

Adam Atkinson: CHERCHBI was the name Kendal was recorded as in the Doomsday book, it means “by the church”. I tried to trademark Atkinson and failed because of Atkinson ties.

The thing that interests me is the fact you’ve gone to such trouble to make sure everything is made in Britain. Was that a conscious effort or merely and a feature of locality.

Adam Atkinson: Yes it was intentional. It was one of the first decisions I made that everything would be made in this country. From a point of view of having a particular interest in British manufacturing, my father worked at K Shoes for 40 years, my great-grandfather was a leather worker based in Kendal. Other members of the family from Coniston are sheep farmers, tailors, arts and crafts carpenters etc.  There’s a history of small scale manufacturing and making things within the family. I wanted to learn more about local manufacturing – leather goods, textiles. I wanted to create a simple, high quality back-to-basics product – I love visiting the likes of antiques shops due to the high quality of the products they sell.  I set my stake in the ground, it’s got to be British made and “CHERCHBI, British Made” appears on everything. There’s a lot of products I have available, for example, woven linens from Lancashire, silks from Macclesfield. The toggle on this bag I get made by Abbeyhorn in Lancashire, the same company that supplies Albam and has been running since 1749 through five different families.  I don’t claim to be an environmentally sound brand, it just comes naturally and is ingrained in the business.

Is the environmental aspect quite important to you?

Adam Atkinson: Yeah it is important to me, it’s a complex area really. I’ve come from this background of making more and more products out of plastic. Why are we producing more and more products in a seasonal basis, you know 5 seasons in a year including the holidays for Nike and Puma, and the quality level reducing all the way along. I was just thinking this is all wrong. So I moved back to the Lake District for a bit of a break and started freelance design work. I read an article in the local paper about farmers burning Herdwick fleece.

That was going to be my next question, where exactly did the idea come from?

Adam Atkinson: Part of the reason for me moving back was to be closer to my family and go back to my roots. I was 37 when I moved back and thought this is an import junction in my life, I’ve got an opportunity to quit a job and not start a new one and just have a month or two to look around and see what direction I wanted to take. I read this report that mentioned Herdwick which I’d heard of but didn’t know much about.

Yes, I did wonder whether perhaps you were a disgruntled farmer with a shit load of wool you were trying to get rid of…

AA: (laugh…) No, no I’m not. I spent a lot of time in the Lake District as a kid, my Dad was a member and is the chairman of a local walking and mountaineering club, they have this beautiful old building at the top of the Borrowdale Valley and we used to have family holidays up there.

The name Herdwick comes from old Norse meaning “sheep place”. Going back there’s evidence of sheep farms in the Lake District in the 8th and 9th century, so it’s an ancient breed, one of the oldest British sheep breeds. People were starting to offer it in restaurants on menus. The Queen’s a fan of our meat. Within foodie circles it’s famous and has become more so over recent years, it’s a great meat. But it’s [the wool] got the lowest price on the British Wool Marketing Board price scale. Farmers have burnt it in front of the BWMB just to prove a point.

What is it about the wool that means no one else wants to use it?

AA: Well it’s got a short staple length (the length of the fibre) which is bad for weaving. The best Egyptian cotton has a long staple length which is great for weaving so you can spin it round itself and create a fine thread. This [Herdwick] is the opposite, it’s very wiry and abrasive so you can’t really use it for garments, everything is wrong with it. But it has a great texture and natural colour. You have this white fibre which is dead thread (kemp fibres) and snaps easily. The kemp fibres drop off during any sort of spinning and weaving which makes a mess of the machinery. Spinners and weavers don’t really like to work with the fleece.

So presumably when you tried to weave it into a cloth you had to overcome a huge amount of resistance?

AA: Yeah, I’ve gone through 9 different trials over 3 years. There were three different weaving/spinning companies and then different trials within those three to get the spinning technique, the weaving technique and also to find the right spinning and weaving partners prepared to pursue the project and make a finished cloth. We put extra picks in the looms meaning we have extra warp and weft threads in the yarn so it creates a denser cloth, this slows everything down. The other thing we do is get more twist in the yarn. Because it has a short staple length you have to twist them around each other more to get a stronger yarn and that means slowing the machine down to achieve that. Because the fibre has lots of bits sticking out all over the place they twist on top of each other during weaving which is not a good thing. So we wax them, running every yarn over small tea lights to lubricate it as it’s going into the cloth. And a lot of other tricks as well. This is why at the end of it all I thought “gosh that was three and half years of my life”. I was freelancing at the time but putting a lot of other things on hold, putting my life on hold really. I moved back to the Lakes, into the family home, all my freelance money was being ploughed into the new cloth and developing the product. I was single at the time so living a monk’s existence, but thoroughly enjoying it.

AA: So that’s the finished cloth, we take it and back it with a natural rubber and then the cotton backer, so that’s an impermeable layer which water will not pass through. It will hit the wool but won’t get though to the cotton backer, protecting what’s in the bag, which is a great feature. It also stabilises the cloth, which has been tested for abrasion pulling and it passes for apparel and upholstery.  It’s a tough old cloth and when you put the backing on it, it becomes even tougher and you end up with something really robust.

AA: After the 3 and a half years and 9 weave trials I thought the cloth deserved a name of its own, so I’ve named it Herdwyck No. 10. It’s a licensed cloth and registered brand. There is a bit of interest from other company’s to do something with it. At the moment they see the bags we’ve got in the collection and they want to do something with it but I’m not really prepared to do that right now.

Do you do all the designing yourself?

AA: Yes I do. Essentially, the business is just me right now. My partner is a hair stylist but she’s worked in fashion before, she has a knowledge of design which puts me to shame and has a taste level which suits what I’m doing. I’m very lucky to have her influence and eye to detail.

And design influences? Obviously you’re based in Kendal in the fabulous Lake District, are you going back through old mountaineering catalogues…?

AA: Although I’m inspired by certain pieces in different areas and certain vintage pieces, it’s all new and designed with a contemporary function in mind. For example, this backpack is based on a mountaineering pack. There are elements that are shamelessly old fashioned, the full leather strap without padding, but they mould and give over time and are very comfortable. The stitched strap on top is pretty standard military bag construction, tried and tested, but I designed it with the Gothic arch. It has a full leather base because I made the decision early on not to cut corners.

You’ve been picked up by Mr Porter and you previewed at Pitti Uomo, what’s next?

AA: We’re going to continue doing Pitti, that was a good show for us. It’s been a hard four years with no money, but now I feel I can enjoy the rewards, it’s great. I’m not sure the visitors to Pitti really got the whole story, but the first thing to attract anyone’s attention is the quality, the visual impact, the quality has to shine through. That’s the critical point. The price is an issue for a lot of people, but the prices are what they are. It’s authentic rather than fake and you know where it’s been made.

Catching Up With Old Friends and Making New Ones

Aside from meeting Mr Andrew Brett and Archivist Peter Tilley on my recent visit to Gieves & Hawkes I also caught up with Deborah Carré and James Ducker.

James and Deborah (a regular reader of Mensflair) together form Carréducker Shoes and are old friends of Mensflair. Several MF columnists have met up with Deborah and James and I featured them way back in April 2010.

While all bespoke shoemakers are to a degree governed by their clients’ whims and fancies, you can’t deny that Carréducker is one of the more original bespoke shoemakers out there. There is something rock ‘n’ roll about their shoes, an odd feature considering James and Deborah are devote fans of BBC Radio 4.

Partnering with Gieves & Hawkes seems to have brought them a great deal of recognition, but it’s no more than is deserved.

The remodelling of No. 1 Savile Row has provided them with a small studio space on the main floor where each day you can see either James or Deborah going about their craft. While they both refer to their space as the fish bowl, Gieves deserves to be congratulated for maintaining the essential connection between the customer and the craft which was a wonderful feature of the Carréducker experience when I first met them. I’ve been racking my brains but I can’t think of any other bespoke shoemaker in London where the patron can actually see his shoes being made.

During our chat Deborah indicated that there were some exciting collaborations in the pipeline. Although they’re for now hush-hush, I’m sure Mensflair will be granted an exclusive when the moments ripe (what do you say Deborah?).

One interesting project we can talk about is a collection of off the shelf classic shoe styles, from which clients will be able to pick and then have made bespoke. While style aficionados might relish the chance to choose each and every detail of a bespoke commission, I know plenty of men for whom this would be a nightmare. Still in development it will be interesting to see these shoes when finished.

Gieves & Hawkes have extended their commitment to footwear still further by allocating shop floor work space to an interesting American chap by the name of Justin FitzPatrick. Creator of the blog ‘The Shoe Snob’,  and a very nice fellow, Justin not only designs and makes his own shoes but is something of an expert at polishing them. It is this last service that he provides for customers of G&H. I’ve been enjoying his blog recently and his hand polishing is most impressive. Personally I don’t much enjoy shinning shoes, but with Justin’s prices starting at as little as £5 he may well become a new best friend.