Examining the Fit of a Tailor-Made Suit

Pete, Hong Kong: When I’m standing in front of the mirror for my first fitting, how do I tell whether the suit fits or not? How do I know if the tailor has done a good job, and tell him to change something if he hasn’t?

As with the last post, here is a list of areas to examine. Check these things at the first fitting and the second. In fact, check them every time you put the suit on, as the tailor will probably be willing to change one or two things shortly after the suit is done. And it probably won’t cost much to change them long after the fact.

These tips equally apply to a ready-to-wear suit, and can help you decide which aspects of the suit to have altered.

All of these points are subject to personal taste and fashion. This is a description of the fit of a classic suit worn to today’s tastes. Its closest historical archetype is probably the Drape.

Shoulders: If the shoulders are too narrow for you, you will see the swell of your actual shoulder pushing against the material at the top of the sleeve. There may also be stretch lines running across the material and an indentation at the top of the sleeve. These lines can also be a sign that the sleeve is too narrow for you.

If the suit is too big, its shoulders will extend in a ledge beyond your own. To fit properly, there should be a clean, direct line from the edge of the suit’s shoulder to the edge of yours, just skirting the skin.

Collar: The collar of the suit, at the back of your neck, should sit flush with the collar of your shirt, leaving between one and two inches of shirt above the suit (depending on the height of your collar). If there is too much material across the back, the collar will stand away from your neck. If there is too little, the collar will be flush with your shirt and there will be folds running horizontally below the collar where the cloth is stretched.

(Tip: When being measured, don’t stand up artificially straight and tall. It may impress the tailor, but all your suit collars will stand away from your neck when you stand naturally.)

If you can, get two or three mirrors to look at yourself in. It is particularly useful if you can see your back – it is a roadmap of fit. The folds under the collar are mentioned here, but you will also be able to see unsightly stretch marks across your tummy if it is too tight there; if there are wrinkles underneath your arms this probably means the shoulders are sagging; and one long fold down the middle of your back demonstrates an excess of material there. It’s all pretty intuitive – just look for those wrinkles and wonder what they might mean.

Waist: The fit of the waist is very much a matter of personal taste, but there should definitely be an obvious suppression in the line of suit at your side, going in where your waist button fastens (middle button on a three-button suit, top one on a two-button). There should be no folds radiating from the waist button, which again show the cloth being stretched. And when you pull the waist button away from you, it should pull out easily an inch or two, but no more.

Beyond that, try walking around the fitting room and moving your arms. The jacket should feel comfortable (this will be helped by higher armholes). It should of course be unbuttoned when you sit down – but try doing this and make sure you would be comfortable typing at a desk when seated.

Most other aspects of fit were mentioned in my previous posting – sleeve length, trouser length etc. Add these to the checklist above.

Hopefully, you should be a relatively good judge of whether your trousers fit you around the waist.

Sartorial Ideas for a Wedding

Alright, hands up anyone off to a spring/summer wedding. The chances that a good number of maulers would be lifted on reading this are extremely good indeed. Spring and summer weddings are an inevitability; they are the cliché of clichés. Just as thousands of perspiring tourists descend upon poor Venice every summer, thumping along the preciously perched structures like a herd of Wildebeest marching across a spider’s web, thousands of people will choose to have an ‘in season’ wedding; “Shall we do it in winter darling? It’ll be novel!” “No darling, let’s congest the precious and few summer days…everyone expects us to.” It is true – we do expect, often with bated breath, at least a few invitations for nuptials in the sunny season. For most people in the UK, incapable of flying a couple of hundred people off to the Caribbean or the Maldives in the less clement months of December or February, the marriage can be given no greater head start than the perfect spring or summer wedding; the pleasant church surrounded by blossom, the magnificence of a garden marquee and the utter embarrassment of drunken relatives tripping into the pool.

As the days lengthen across the Northern hemisphere, the gentle sound of gold and silver lettered envelopes tumbling to the floor reaches a crescendo. Should you find the functions mounting up and encounter a clash, fear not. There is a sure-fire way to guarantee your attendance at the most worthy function. Stand in the corner of a large room and throw the clashing invitations, one by one, to the other side. The sturdiest invitation will be that which reaches the other side, or comes closest to it. This is the invitation that should take preference over the other.

Once you have chosen the wedding which, you feel, would most suit your attendance, it is time to give some thought to clothing. Most chaps I know consider a wedding to be ‘someone else’s day’, thus shunning the philosophy of the peacock; they dress arbitrarily and even poorly with the excuse that dressing well would somehow upset the bride and groom, especially if you were better dressed than they. Whilst I can appreciate the sensitivity, this is absolute nonsense. The bride and groom are far more likely to clasp your hands warmly in gratitude that someone took their well planned and painstakingly produced function seriously and dressed up accordingly.

It’s a wedding, not a conference

One of the most awful realities of dressing for weddings is that people believe a suit – no matter what type of suit, as long as the trousers match the jacket – is king. Whilst the average suit is a very practical and certainly inoffensive form of clothing, it can also be rather dull and pedestrian. I attended a wedding in a black short jacket, spongebag trousers and patent Oxford shoes only to find the other men had shuffled along in crumpled four button suits and scruffy loafers.

Ironically, some of the worst formally dressed chaps brushed up well later on when they put on their ‘glad rags’ which was even more saddening as it revealed their interest in clothes was merely superficial. I think a pair of smart trousers and a contrasting jacket are perfectly acceptable and far more interesting; a blue blazer with caramel trousers and burgundy Oxford shoes will look urbane and chic, and yet at the same time appropriate ‘costume’ for a wedding. For to me, weddings are a theatrical event that in the past called for the most theatrically grand items of day wear; the morning suit and top hat.

Knowing when to stop…

That last point about morning suits and top hats brings me neatly around to the issue of limits. Having thrown the licence to dazzle and be individual in the air, I think it only sensible to consider the limitations that exist in deciding upon the wedding wardrobe. Firstly, think theatrically but set barriers – there is a fine line between harmonious wedding habiliments and absurd clownishness. By all means be a little experimental and daring but, if you find yourself treading the path of excess, remember the Coco Chanel motto; “always remove one item before leaving the house.”

‘The only link between Art and Nature’

Weddings are a wonderful excuse to wear a buttonhole. I have been known to dabble in orchids, chrysanthemums and black roses (really a very deep red; alluring and frightfully luxurious, though they sound funereal) but the key thing is to buttonhole honestly and appropriately; my chrysanth’ had to match my ivory and blue striped tie and ivory waistcoat or at least depart from it so completely that it did not clash. Another thing to remember is that rarity of flower is not the ultimate; the highest quality rose or carnation will provide greater flourish than the dank and weeping orchid.

Sartorial Love/Hate: Fair Isle Knitwear

“You’re wearing a rug” shrugged a rather bored acquaintance of mine as I turned in front of the mirrors positioned outside the jute carpeted, well spot-lit changing rooms. He was, naturally, referring to a Fair Isle vest I had decided to try on. I very much liked it but my companion, a man ill disposed towards clothes shopping, viewed it as a fussy and unattractive non-necessity. It is sometimes useful having a polar opinion. Not that it might help you to see the ‘errors’ in your judgment, but simply that it will serve to remind you why you have been right all along and why your own taste towers above that of the uninterested and blasé majority. When recalling this incident, it reminded me how two chaps of the same age, from the same school with the same cavalier attitude towards life could differ so strongly in relation to a garment. It was another dreaded case of sartorial love/hate.

I must admit that the Fair Isle patterns, whilst I find them charming, are certainly not for everyone. For one thing, they don’t suit many people; you have to have a sympathetic personality and more than a little personal flair to carry the look off. Horn-rimmed spectacles help. As does a crop of thick, floppy hair and though I possess neither of these things, I attempted to make up for it with beatific smiles and an attempt at cocky charm.

For a pattern so strongly associated with the unaware and crumbling old gentleman, youth, or at least a youthful demeanour is a requirement. It is a pattern I consider the clothing equivalent of Christmas wrapping paper; it is as important what is added to it as how it might be displayed. I think it is important to prep it up – wearing Bengal striped shirts underneath with crisp club ties and perhaps a slim fitting club blazer over the top. I think it has looked its worse when worn, hobo style, over a white vest with perhaps a long black coat, All Stars and a beanie. This detracts from the innocence of the Fair Isle knitwear as something bright and quirky: something to be worn by a man with sartorial confidence and self-assuredness, not embarrassingly and begrudgingly with mismatched items from J.Lindeberg. This is not grandmother’s knitting, only to be worn in the holiday season; this is a fine design.

I think Fair Isle knitwear looks simply splendid with denim, blazers and driving shoes. I think it looks truly dreadful with Wellington boots and ancient cords, ballooning in the wind. If anything, a Fair Isle item of knitwear should be slim-fitting and sparing in terms of thickness. The ‘fisherman’s weight’ Fair Isle jumper, that knives have trouble in cutting through, should be avoided. This ungainly item belongs in the trunk of last resort; when central heating has failed the human race.

The photographs above, all from Ralph Lauren’s collection of Fair Isle items, suggest the right course for the use of the pattern: a clubby, Depression-era coolness with plenty of character (note the upturned collar and the cuffs).

Gentleman on Safari

I have never been on safari. I have often imagined it; I have closed my eyes to a reel of fantastical images. Of me strolling through the dry grass with a pair of binoculars and a pith helmet, of herds of animals sweeping majestically across the plateau and of the glorious evening by the open fire with a neat glass of scotch. Impossibly romantic wishful thinking - and desperately unrealistic. It is rare that we imagine ourselves taking part in something we have never taken part in before and dreaming moderately; our imaginations have an unlimited licence of wonder and luxury. When a virgin traveller imagines the far away places of their reading they are forgiven for dreaming big; a novice climber is exculpated for ambitions of Everest. Therefore, I am sympathetic to my own poor escapist soul.

However, the fact that the modern realities of the world have escaped my attention in certain areas is not merely a product of my imagination. In many ways, I represent the final effects of a culture dripping in materialist nostalgia. Not that I decry materialism, or nostalgia for that matter, but the sense of romance; marketing the dream and not the reality has long been the transmission - from travel agents to airlines to clothing brands. In many ways we are fed the dream of a lifestyle that no longer exists, or one that exists for a tiny few. Naturally, there would be no sense in marketing our own mediocre lives; where is the incentive? We need inspiration, and certainly temptation, to drag us out of bed each morning. However, I am surely not the only one who is frequently struck with disappointment, an embarrassing feeling of being made a fool of and a strong sense of nostalgia when confronted with the modern realities of today.

In examining the range of ‘suggested’ safari clothing I recoiled; it is all absolutely ghastly. Instead of suits for the savannah, the poor purchaser is being marketed something more along the lines of Rambo; combat trousers with a number of pockets that recalls Carrollian ridiculousness, and horrible waistcoats of a thin shapeless material that reminded me a modern safari enthusiast is more likely to dress like the late Steve Irwin than Cecil Rhodes. There was certainly no dream-peddling here - the websites were feeble and basic, there was no sign of a ’prepared shoot’ and the only ’model’ was an overweight bearded man in his late fifties. The dreamer who bases his romantic image of a safari on the gorgeous photography and costuming of Out of Africa had been disturbed from the slumber. However, instead of remaining awake he has turned over and pulled the pillow over his head.

The images above are of the beautiful spring/summer 2008 collection from Hackett, the ever more establishment and esteemed British retailer. A key inspiration for the collection - safari. The chaps loll around an expedition tent in cream cotton suits, linen jackets and panamas, looking every inch the European tourists and colonials of yore. But not everything about the outfits is a costume relic. Bright accessories and Italian looking shirts accompany some of the more traditional items. The overall effect is a melange of the vintage and modern ’gentleman abroad.’ While not everyone is fortunate to do this clothing full justice and take it all on a luxury ten day safari to Kenya, the ’savannah sartorial’ is a popular look for the summer and a further step in fashion’s homage to tailoring of the past. The key, as demonstrated by Hackett, is not to overdo it; wearing shirts unbuttoned and tie-less, accessorising only with a pocket square is very much de rigueur these days. If you simply have to, wear a pith helmet although for many this teeters on the edge of Gilbert & Sullivan-esque costume.

Checked Shirts and What They Say

“Immediately.” That is the answer to Barima’s question which he proffered upon reading my piece on stripe stereotypes. I hadn’t planned to write something on the subject he was suggesting so soon, but I am a firm believer that things are better and far more satisfying in pairs; no one would wish to be the owner of a sadly single and yet singularly splendid patent shoe.  And of course if there will be discussion of shirt patterning, there must be discussion of checks. For it is the case that checks have as much if not more relevance than stripes for the gentleman of today. Why is this? Well, it is simply that checked shirts are far more prevalent than they used to be and dare I say, far more popular.

The irony of a checked shirt is that the wearer might purchase for superficial individuality whereas in reality, the heritage of a check lies with a man’s identification with a group and a purpose. Tartan became a popular fabric with Sir Walter Scott’s clever diplomacy; a fabric forever identified with all Scots, of both High and Lowlands, despite the fact that the peoples of the latter had little to do with the pattern at all. Further Anglicisation of the Celtic fabric led to large numbers of Victorians wearing check trousers with morning coats - something even the Beau cannot have envisaged.

However, to check a trouser is one thing, but to check a shirt is another. Until quite recently, plain white was the monopoly tone in terms of smart clothing. Checked shirts were worn in the country with tweeds, or they were worn by labourers who wore mixed colour shirts to conceal the sweat, dirt and grease. Gentlemen of the metropolis would certainly not choose any checked fabric. The breakaway from this stiff formality of perpetual ivory was to wear white collars with coloured shirts. At first the shirts were modestly coloured - calm blues and subtle stripes - but the licence had been given; experimentation was inevitable. There are now thousands of checked shirts acceptable for wear in a smart and even formal situation. Checked shirts have, in recent years, taken over as the ’trend’ for the City; a banker in 1912 would have worn a bowler, a dark morning coat, spongebag trousers a sober tie and, importantly, a white shirt. In 2008 he is far more likely to wear, though a dark suit and sober tie, a natty checked shirt. And like the stripes, the check he enjoys to wear will say a lot about him.

The Partner

The Partner has been at his Magic Circle firm for 13 years. He was one of the more colourful and interesting of the graduate trainees he joined with and his love of theatrical patterns has not altered over the years. He wears checked shirts almost exclusively; even at the firm’s Christmas function he could be spotted, charming the young female associates in a subtle black and white check evening shirt. Though generally genial, his bad temper, caused by a rivalry with his Gonville & Caius room mate who now works at Goldman Sachs, is down to the fact that said room mate frequently gloats via monthly email on his astronomical financial success. The Partner, though he works equally long hours, gets a mere fraction of the remuneration. On the more gloomy days when such clouds of despair and envy hang over him, he stays away from his characteristically playful colours and wallows conservatively in a blue gingham check.

The Oxford Don

The Oxford Don is a rare beast these days. The faculty has been ‘freshening up’; younger staff, American staff, are all the rage at this venerable seat of learning. The wizened and pale Don stumbles through Radcliffe Square as a point of comfort; the grand buildings are the only faithful companions he has left, the only friends of youth still standing. His checks are conservative and sensible, reflecting his fireside-reading-knowledge of town and country-town standards; tweeds and checks in Oxford are a traditional uniform. Often called into London to lecture, the Don prefers to decline such visits on the basis that London is too far removed from the metropolis he once knew. He prefers Oxford’s beauty and memories and even favours purchasing from the local shirt retailers on High and Turl Streets.

The Architect

The Architect is tremendously busy and far too important to wear a tie. He likes checked shirts for the mathematics and the colour variation; plain shirts are a blank sheet of paper, the result of a designer without a brain. He wears them simply, top button undone with a moleskin jacket and a pair of cords. While hardly considered chic, his mighty range of shirts are certainly well made and economically sensible - rather like his buildings. The majority are buttoned down - “It’s more practical” - and when meeting clients he ‘smartens’ himself up by, curiously, buttoning the top button. A rival architect in Japan had done precisely the same thing and secured the contract - he has never taken such a risk since.