The Coat Project 2

My thanks to all of you that either commented here or emailed me about my decision on the polo coat I am having designed at Graham Browne. The response was fairly unanimous: go for double breasted as it best fits the classic style of the coat, and it won’t look too busy because the full pleat and belt will be the other side to the pockets and double breast.

So that’s the final commission. A double-breasted polo coat with raised seams, patch pockets, split sleeve, turn-back cuffs, welted breast pocket and full pleat in the back to be fastened with a one-piece belt.

The belt will be a single, detachable piece that is attached with six buttons sewn onto the coat – three on either side. Although we only need three settings, six buttons are needed to stop any setting being lopsided. (It also gives us half settings if desired at any point.)

The advantage of a detachable piece of fabric is that it can more easily fold the pleat in on itself, rather than create other folds in the fabric near to the side seams. As can be seen on the picture of an Austrian jacket (being made by Graham Browne for a client), a two-piece design necessarily pulls the side seams first, creating unwanted folds. At the coat’s widest setting, a detachable belt will also keep the pleat open. (With this jacket illustrated the pleat and belt are more decorative, so other folds are less of a concern.)

The size of the pleat will be eight inches at the waist (four inches wide when closed, doubling back on itself, to make a total length of eight and the possibility of opening to eight at the coat’s biggest setting). It will flare out towards the bottom, so that there is still ample room to walk when the pleat is closed. Probably with a maximum width of 16 inches in the pleat at the very bottom.

The length of the coat will be a couple of inches below the knee – or as this is often measured, 13.5 inches off the ground. That is still quite long, and the old standard of 11 or 12 inches from the ground would seem very long to most men.

To material. The choices were between camel hair and cashmere, J&J Minnis or Harrisons. The four shades of camel hair available from Harrisons are shown above, with the Minnis options shown at the very top of this piece – the shade I went with being uppermost. The weights are fairly consistent, between 18 and 21 ounces. The tan Minnis that I selected was 20 oz.

Neither cashmere or camel hair are meant to wear well, but as this will not be my first-choice coat for business, and as I often cycle to work, it will not get very heavy wear.

The lining is a cream, heavy twill, of the type usually used for military linings and so very tough. I was tempted by cream buttons as well, but in the end went for the mottled brown you see on the cloth below. Next post at the first fitting in a week. Then we can see how the belt works and how best to fit the shoulders over a big jacket.

Oh, and finally I thought readers might be interested to see the formalwear that Graham Browne is making for the Lord Mayor of London. The front jacket is a new piece that is being made in a lighter-weight fabric for day-to-day wear rather than functions. Behind it is the heavier, formal version.

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A Real Workshop And Anthony’s Book

On a trip to George Cleverley the other week I had a chance to tour the workroom and see the last making, as well as some making in progress and the storage of the various lasts still in use.

It struck me immediately how incongruous it felt to be on the first floor of a smart arcade in the West End, looking down on wealth managers strutting in their suits, and yet be surrounded by wood, sawdust and tools.

Many British manufacturers proudly say that their products are made on these shores. Those on Savile Row and a very small number on Jermyn Street are also proud that construction is done on the premises. But often that work is done in basements, or otherwise tucked away from the customers and the outside. It is quite different to look out of the windows of The Royal Arcade and see potential customers browsing the shops.

The manual nature of the work in a shoemaker’s adds to the incongruity. Tailoring is less physical work, and can quite easily be done in a suit or shirtsleeves. You do also occasionally see seamstresses at work in the windows of tailors (often those that advertise alteration services) so it is a more regular sight.

But shoemaking involves dust and aprons, real physical exertion as the leather is stretched and nailed over a last – or a wooden block is whittled down. Both were going on at Cleverley when I visited, and the experience conjures up what traditional English workshops were like back in the days when Cleverley was founded.

Elsewhere the biggest object of interest was the record book of Anthony Cleverley, showing all the bespoke pieces that he made for his aristocratic customers down the years. When the business was relaunched by George Cleverley & Co recently, they weren’t even aware of this book’s existence until old customers started mentioning it. A bit of research located the book and its owner, who passed it on.

In its day the book was rather famous, with people eager to see what others had commissioned and be inspired by those ideas. For those looking to commission a new pair from Cleverley’s, and who like the Anthony Cleverley shape (slightly longer, more chiselled and with a squarer toe), it equally provides a wealth of ideas – as well as showing the royalty or celebrity that you can mimic.

I recommend popping in and asking to see it some time, as well as the original Anthony Cleverley shoe they have on display - which is so small, neat and lightweight it feels almost like a child’s shoe.

Also, for those American readers that are interested, Cleverley’s autumn (fall) round of trunk shows has just been announced. The dates in October are:

New York: Thursday 1st, Friday 2nd, Saturday 3rd & Monday 5th

San Francisco: Wednesday 7th & Thursday 8th

Beverly Hills: Friday 9th, Saturday 10th, Monday 12th & Tuesday 13th

Houston:  Thursday 15th

Dallas: Friday 16th & Saturday 17th

Atlanta: Monday 19th & Tuesday 20th

Chicago: Wednesday 21st & Thursday 22nd

Washington DC: Friday 23rd & Saturday 24th

Boston: Monday 26th & Tuesday 27th

New York:  Wednesday 28th, Thursday 29th, Friday 30th & Saturday 31st

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E. Tautz Goes Retail On Monday

The E. Tautz line of handmade, ready-to-wear clothes designed by Norton & Sons is about to go into London stores. In fact, Matches selected its pieces yesterday from the Savile Row shop and their choices will be delivered on Monday. Harrods, the only other UK store to carry Tautz, will be putting out their selection in early September.

When I popped into Norton & Sons, the rail was all out of order, as was the look book. And it was all Matches’ fault. Still, the singular aesthetic of the Spring/Summer 10 collection, very similar in thrust to the first one (A/W 09), is not hard to discern. And you can see it all on the Tautz site, in order, here.

Everyone at Nortons has a hand in the designs of Tautz, but it is Patrick Grant’s overall control that maintains the singular aesthetic. Knit bowties, luxurious knitted sweaters, unlined jackets and big round collars. Usually paired with knee-length socks and black lace-ups.

For me, the socks and shoes are key. Like the shorts-suits, they reflect the psychology of the collection rather than aiming for heavy retail. The themes are traditional, quirky, of their time and consistent throughout. I like the Breton sweater (above) but I’m not going to wear it with the shades and the beribboned espadilles. It doesn’t matter: the sweater itself has the psychology of the rest of the collection built in, albeit more subtly.

“The stripes on a traditional Breton sweater shouldn’t break into the neckline,” says Grant. “The first one should start just below, right across the chest. Jerseys, and those made by machine, rarely achieve this as they are made from just a single pattern.” It’s easy if the piece is all hand-knitted (and easy to control if it’s all done in the UK).

Then there’s a small, contemporary twist: sections taken out of the stripes in that sweater. In the jackets, the sophistication of the unlined construction – that would look odd with a single breast but hangs together much better with a double.

The trousers reflect that as well. Both them and the shorts are based on original designs from the early twentieth century that were worn to play tennis. The trousers (above) had side tabs as well as belt loops – and two loops on the immediate right of the buckle (perhaps a clue to our previous discussion about which way to wear your belt?). Those design elements have been retained while the construction elsewhere is modernised.

I find Tautz fascinating because it’s ready-to-wear with the best of tailoring built in. From a craft perspective there is also an endless list of quirks and quality points I could bring up. Have a look when it goes into stores – broadly Harrods has the tailoring and Matches the casual wear.

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Sample Sales

London is not what you would call a ‘cheap’ city. If you wander down a typical West End street, evidence of the forbidding expense of the capital is everywhere. There are a lot of gloomy, disappointed faces that squint up at the towering, glittering emporia; a lot of sweaty, fidgeting grasps of the price tag and a low murmur of economic caution. Apart from the generic chain stores, the odd discount week and the Jermyn Street shirt sales, value for money is hard to come by.

If you live in the city, you become accustomed to it. You shop around, rule out certain streets and get to know the quieter times of day. If you visit for a day, hoping that you’ll find something more worthy than in your humble local town, you are often disappointed, not to mention exhausted. The scene is sometimes so pitiful it verges on the Dante-esque: people so tired, worn and dishevelled they resemble human litter, queues so long and winding they are physically painful to even contemplate – and at the end of it, a right old black-eye beating for your credit card.

It’s not pleasant and, temporary though the sweat, swollen feet and zoo-like atmosphere may be; the damage to the finances is permanent. I was offered a remedy for this last malady; a visit to a Hackett sample sale. Sample sales of legend were to me the very image of barbarity: a seething mass of desperate and despondent shoppers, grabbing and snatching their fix as cheaply, and as abundantly, as they could find it. The reality was not far off but as unpleasant and inelegant a shopping experience it was, the result – the day’s hoard – was well worth the effort.

It took place at the Old Truman Brewery on Brick Lane in East London. Not, it is safe to say, an area strongly associated with the sort of ‘settled’ image that Hackett attempts to portray but an atmospheric and spacious enough venue that had character and, mercifully, opened doors and high ceilings. At the door, an entrance fee of £2 was paid and black bin bags were made available for ‘collecting.’ The swag bag was barely useful for my meagre haul but others had reason to upgrade to large cardboard boxes. They then proceeded to kick them along the gritty, tiled floor in their search for more booty.

As it was the last of the sample sale days – there had been Thursday, Friday and Saturday openings – I was not expecting to find anything at all and, instead of contemplating a satisfactory treasure of pocket squares and ties, had expected to leave empty handed. Indeed, were it not for the deep and much disturbed boxes of ties, pocket squares, bow ties, cummerbunds, scarves and socks at the front of the Boiler House, I would have done.

Laughably late for the suits, jackets and trousers, I still had time for a futile browse. Other items – jumpers, chinos, outerwear and shoes – were of less interest and, ironically, in great supply. Never have I cursed my childlike frame so intensely than when I found 40R pinstripe suits and tweed check jackets at 2 for £50; never have I wanted bulk so badly than when I saw linen double breasted waistcoats in 46R – for £5. Shirts were another bargain area – 5 for £50, purchasing multiple polos and rugby shirts offered the same value for money and even my area of interest, accessories, offered a ‘buy more pay less’ value; 5 ties or hankies for £15.

Admittedly, though it was a successful day, it was not a particularly enjoyable shopping experience. Corpulent organisers shouted inaudible commands through megaphones; people pushed, grabbed, chucked and plundered; cashmere trousers that once were folded and hung on polished Jermyn Street hangers lay trampled and dirty on the floor of an East End industrial ghost. It was a surreal and slightly sickening experience, even before the mighty serpent queue had grown to its full and torturous size. Wilde’s words came to me as those around me piled more and more into their bags and boxes; “There are many things that they would throw away” I thought “if they were not afraid that others might pick them up.” Though certainly an exercise in achieving true value, this was turning into another example of the inescapability of greed.

Despite this grim ending, I was somewhat cheered by the sympathetic words of the make-shift till duo; “You’ve been waiting in that queue?” they frowned “for five ties?” In actual fact, it was for three ties and two pocket squares but yes, I had been waiting. Somehow, I had managed to conceal any indignation. And out of the vast industrial space I stumbled – from the manic, soup-kitchen atmosphere of bargain shopping – into the evening sunlight. My companion commented “I think we’ve just been through one of the great Circles of Hell.” I nodded. It was worth it.

For information on upcoming sample sales in London, go to http://www.samplesaleslondon.co.uk/

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British Bespoke – Part 6

At last. The suit is ready and my first bespoke experience in the UK is almost over. The blue double-breasted piece, in a small herringbone with brown-detail buttons, has been seven weeks in the making. But now it’s ready to take away.

I timed my visit to Graham Browne so I could actually see the final touches – largely, the sewing on of the buttons. This is something I particularly wanted tips on, because I’ve done it myself and, while the buttons haven’t fallen off, they never look quite right.

A tailor will use slightly thicker thread than normal, doubled up and waxed. Indeed, at one point Russell added more wax to the thread by drawing it through a little lump of the stuff.

The thread should be knotted at one end and pulled through both the cloth and its lining. Some people apparently like the knot to go all the way through, so you can see a dimple on the other side. But to me this looks like the sewing was done by, well, me. To make sure the needle goes this far through and no further, Russell puts a ruler inside – so that bumping up against this means you have gone far enough, but you can’t go too far.

Thread the button and go through the whole cloth again underneath the button – tipping it to one side. This is actually easier than my normal method, which involves me turning the cloth over every time. It also keeps the stitching more accurate. The number of times you need to sew through largely depends on whether the button will be used or is just for show (or with a single-breasted jacket, how heavy that use is likely to be).

A touch harder is sewing the jigger button – that which attaches the double-breasted jacket on the inside. The hard bit here is getting the stalk right, the stalk being the column of thread that separates button from cloth. On the jigger button the stalk has to be particularly long, to allow for the thickness of the attached jacket (as illustrated below).

You need to sew a few times through the cloth, leaving a good half-inch in slack. Then twist that slack so it becomes firmer and sew looped knots into it at four or five points. To tie one of these knots: put the needle through the stalk, draw the thread through until a small loop remains, put the needle through that loop and then tighten, creating a knot. Carry on until the bottom of the stalk and then snip off the excess.

One thing you will often notice with ready-to-wear suits is that the buttons sit too close to the cloth (on the outside this is). That creates a small crater-like indentation around the button when it is fastened. Some Italian factories now have machines that can replicate a hand-sewn stalk but many still get it too short.

So how about the suit itself? Well it’s pretty hard to describe how good it felt. Remember when I first had a bespoke suit make in Hong Kong, and I described the odd feeling of having cloth evenly spread all along my shoulders? It’s like that but everywhere. The chest feels sculpted, rounded but without ripple. The waist is pinched, but subtly. The shoulders are emphasised with equally subtle roping.

Russell maintains that the sleeves are too short, but I suppose that’s just my style. I want to show a little strip of linen and my shirts are that length. It just looks worse because I have long hands. And it’s still a long way off Thom Browne.

Russell was also a little unsure on the chest. It could be taken in every so slightly, just to clean it up, but that would restrict some movement and make the jacket less waisted. There are advantages and disadvantages, of course, and a suit from Anderson & Sheppard, say, would leave a lot more drape in the chest. But then the padding would also be softer.

One of the greatest pleasures of a bespoke suit, particularly one that is made by a local tailor, is that I can try it out for a few weeks and come back with changes. I may yet have the chest taken in, but it’s worth giving the horsehair a chance to soften up and mould to me. I may yet have the armholes taken up even further (they are currently around 3/8 of an inch bigger than some Savile Row suits). It’s all a question of time and judgement.

You haven’t escaped yet. There will be more posts on this particular double-breasted experience.

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