Inspiration above propriety

At the press launch of Sharp Suits by Eric Musgrave a few week ago (pictures and report here) there was quite a variety of menswear on display.

Eric himself was wearing a splendid windowpane-check grey suit and gold tie; host Richard James wore a characteristic strong blue suit, white shirt and knitted black tie; and yours truly went for a navy double-breasted with a tie in a rather fetching shade of rust. But there was also Ben Cobb, editor of Man About Town, in a white leather jacket, vest and (of course) moustache, as well as a gentleman in a rubber jacket and all sorts of people wearing drainpipe trousers.

There are few events today at which one could say there is an expectation as to what should be worn. Fewer still where a real sense of propriety dominates. Various concerts, races and royal events are about it. But a book launch on Savile Row brings some expectations – not to dress to a code, perhaps, but to make a certain effort. This, clearly, everyone had done. And while not necessarily endorsing the rubber jacket, I think the event was better for this emphasis on personal style rather than social correctness.

For a pleasant few minutes I was chatting to Michael Whitby-Grubb of Penrose. He was wearing a checked three-piece suit in yellow and tan. His tie was a rather luminescent silver from Penrose itself (apparently the extra shine is due to not letting the silkweavers bleach the silk before they colour it). And he had on chunky brown brogues.

He looked pretty damn good. And it occurred to me that were this a hundred years earlier, an event of this sort would have seen all men in black tie. Perhaps some variation in jacket style, waistcoat or accessories, but essentially all men wearing the same thing. There is a certain ritualistic beauty in that; definitely an elegance that modern society lacks. But it leaves little room for inspiration and personal style.

It seems to me that when we bemoan a lack of smart dress, often we are lamenting men’s laziness and a lack of interest in how they look. That is far more depressing than taste you disagree with.

I wish there were more black-tie events, I do. I wish I had to own a morning suit, and wear that frequently. But I’m glad that Michael can wear what is effectively a country suit to an event of that type, and pay attention to it, dress it up and accessorise it as a result. It inspires me.

Confusing seven-fold ties

A seven-fold tie doesn’t necessarily have seven folds anymore. That isn’t because of corporate marketing and shortcuts (though the ‘VII fold’ from a certain manufacturer might qualify for that description). Rather, different ways of counting folds have become confused. And over time, seven fold has merely become a synonym for multi-fold.

But understanding how the folds can be counted should help you communicate ideas and designs. Will over at A Suitable Wardrobe reported on this problem recently when he was ordering ties from E&G Cappelli, ending up with 12-folds rather than six. So let’s run through the methods.

Most normal ties have three obvious folds. If you look at the back of the front blade, the silk has been folded in on itself on either side, and one of those flaps has just been tucked under – creating a small, third fold.

Now while retaining the same width of those two flaps, the silk can be folded in on itself almost as many times as you like. You just have to start with more silk and the tie becomes thicker. Take the tie illustrated, made for me by the silk weaver Vanners in Suffolk. There are 10 folds here.

Look at the left-hand side. The first fold, like you get on a three-fold tie, is just a crease in this picture – half way up the left-hand edge. Then there’s a fold at the top-left corner, where the tie folds in. Then another where it folds out. Then two more to get you to the centre. And while you can’t see it in the picture, I can tell you neither side has an extra, small flap like you get on a three-fold. So five folds either side, 10 in total. This goes right through the tie (or it does on a good one) and can be seen on the back blade, though this might be hard to see as it will be quite high up inside.

Yet one manufacturer described this to me as seven-fold. Three outwards folds on either side (the other two of the five I described just now being inwards) and the seventh being the tipping of the tie that makes it look like it is folded in half before construction.

This is an odd method and not one I have heard echoed anywhere else. So let’s stick with the first method. On that, this is a 10-fold. Also, Bulgari ties that the company refers to as seven-folds are actually six-fold. You can tell because for a tie to have an uneven number of folds, it must either have a little lip like the three-folds (which few multi-folds do) or the folds must overlap and concertina into each other. My Hermes ties, for instance are five folds – three on one side and two on the other, folded in between each other. If they didn’t overlap like this, the tie would have one side that was thicker than the other.

And that’s what a seven-fold should have – four folds on one side and three on the other, overlapping. My Isaia tie does this.

Then there’s lined or unlined ties, whether that or the extra silk adds better body, and which creates a more pleasing movement. Much more personal taste, really.

A short talk with Andrea Perrone

I’ve been a fan of Brioni co-CEO Andrea Perrone’s personal style ever since issue 2 of The Rake. Perrone was the cover star, part of a feature on Brioni and wearing a checked sportscoat with a dark cardigan, white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Ever since I’ve loved wearing a dark cardigan under an odd jacket. Something about the shadow it creates, the quiet sophistication that echoes the waistcoat of a three-piece suit.

The photo shoot was in black and white so I didn’t know the colour of the cardigan. But mine is a deep, bottle green. Dark enough so that the colour isn’t really apparent from a distance; different without being showy.

I met Perrone last week at the launch of Brioni’s first fragrance in the London store. (He was wearing a suit in a tight Prince-of-Wales check, grey with a red line through it.) The fragrance is inspired by one first produced in the 1950s, called Good Luck. Although there is no record of the scent itself, the discovery of an old bottle was apparently inspiration enough.

Perrone agreed with me that perfumes are hard things to write about. No matter how much you list the various ingredients, the top notes and the base notes, it’s hard for the reader to really get an impression of what it smells like.

And his view is that it is very much a question of personal taste, of associations and memory. I’ve always liked musky scents, probably because my father wears them. Most light and classic male scents I associate with the cheap Calvin Klein and Hugo Boss fragrances that my friends used to wear when I was a teenager. Somehow, they all seemed to smell the same.

As to craft and quality, you can talk about the proportion of ground elements in a scent, and how much they are diluted by ethanol. But that is pretty much given away by the name of the substance – eau de cologne, eau de toilette, eau de parfum. Each has a range of concentrations, with some overlap.

For Perrone, the only thing worth going into in detail is the ingredients – in this case bergamot from Calabria and lemon from Sicily amongst others, which are all naturally sourced and produced. And everyone was given an oversized book to explain what the elements were and where they came from.

But most important of all, there was a sampler of the scent. So that people could try it for several days afterwards, and decide if they liked it. That’s pretty much all there is to perfume.

Bown bags: A meeting of geeks

Judy Bown loves geeky detail; I love geeky detail. Talking to the bag designer and manufacturer was always going to be a pleasant experience.

Indeed, Judy’s first-ever post on her Designer’s Diary says it all: “Some brands believe that their customers don’t give a fig where or how things are made anymore. I think there are people who want to know the provenence of what they buy. It’s not about being elitist, it’s about a quest for quality.”

Now, it’s very easy to say that you care about quality construction and quality materials. Slightly harder to prove it. Fortunately, Judy spells out every aspect of how her bags are made and the qualities that go into it.

Take the brass hardware that is featured on Bown travel bags. Real brass has a deep colour and warmth that is lacking in the most common alternative, Zamac. This cheap imitation can snap under stress, feels thin and tinny and doesn’t age well. Indeed, you can often spot it by the artificial ‘aged’ look it is given. Judy says Zamac has crept up the fashion ladder – it used to just be seen on cheap high-street bags, now “so-called luxury brands think their customers can’t tell the difference and happily promote it as solid brass”. And she should know. Judy designed the bags at Mulberry for nine years, before working at Coach in New York and then consulting for Tocca, Asprey and Tanner Krolle.

The Bown brass is made by a family firm in Florence that can make small handmade orders to Judy’s designs. It is also individually lacquered to protect it from tarnishing and preserve that warmth – so while it retains the qualities of brass (such as strength with that little bit of give) it doesn’t need much maintenance.

My favourite detail is probably the zips though. These are made by RiRi in Switzerland, the best manufacturer of them in the world, and are all made to length. That means that each tooth matches up exactly down the length of the zip. You’d think that would be easy to do, but the alternative – peeling off single sides of a zip from a big reel – sometimes means the teeth miss ever so slightly. Leading to that annoying jarring.

Each tooth of the zip is individually stamped, polished for 18 hours to remove all rough edges and then washed for a further six hours. If you run your finger down the inside of the zip, you’ll feel no rough edges at all – unlike cheaper, mass-produced zips. Most of the best manufacturers use RiRi zips – I noticed recently that my Albam gilet, which I always thought zipped up in a very satisfying fashion – also has a RiRi zip.

On the Bown linings, I love the anecdote Judy tells about a customer who discovered accidentally that they have a waterproof backing. “He’d driven from Bonn to London and on getting out at the other end, tired and in a hurry, threw the debris from the passenger seat into his bag. This included a styrofoam coffee cup that he thought was empty. When he came to unpack the next day, he was horrified to see the cup on its side, dribbling coffee. Carefully removing his other possessions first, he saw that coffee was sitting in bubbles on the lining. With a bit of kitchen roll he dabbed it up. Absolutely no stains.” The inside is not absolutely waterproof as the seams are not sealed, just sewn. But unless you want to transport water in your bag, that’s unlikely to be a problem.

All this, and we haven’t even talked about the leather yet. Bown bags are made of many different types of leather – including a rather nifty one that is a whole goat on either side – but one thing that unites them is the vegetable tanning. This is pretty commonplace with men’s shoes, but more and more bags are being chrome tanned or use synthetic or corrected leathers. The advantage of vegetable tanning is the natural appearance and the way it ages.

You don’t want a big fault in one side of the bag, but it is nice to see the neck lines down one part of it where the skin has grown. And the unique patina that a natural leather has can never be replicated aesthetically by an artificial process. Chrome-tanned leathers have less subtlety, individuality and do not get better as they age.

Then there’s the inking – how the black stuff is painted down the side of leathers when they are sewn together. You can tell it’s done by hand because there is no line up the middle of the join (makes it stronger too). But I think we’ve had enough geeky detail for now, even for me.

I’ve been using my Overnight Cabin Bag in dark tan for about a month now. And I get a palpable pleasure from using it – whether it is the buttery feel of the leather or the knowledge of its craft that comes from the details above. Few accessories (non-clothes) I have ever bought give me that same sense of satisfaction.

If you want more, I highly recommend the Designer’s Diary on the Bown website. I read it all, backwards, (much in the way I hope people trawl through the archives of this site). Thanks to Judy’s descriptions of leather working I now really want to take one of the courses run by Val Michael and Neil McGregor at their workshop in Tetbury. So much better to do it than just talk about it.

The tailors that will survive

“I’ve had five shirts made by XX on Savile Row, and I’m not currently in possession of any of them. They are all being altered or the sleeves lengthened, some have been there weeks and some months. Every time I phone up the reaction is ‘oh yes, I really must get onto that’. It’s quite frustrating.”

This is a friend relating his experiences of bespoke shirtmakers. Another one, this time off Savile Row, has never phoned him. Not once have they picked up the phone to update him on the progress of an order, or even to tell him something is ready. “Last week I finally called them, and they said ‘oh yes, it’s been here for weeks, why don’t you come in and get it?’ The idea of efficiency is alien to them. Customer service means being polite – and they are, they’re both very nice gentlemen. But it would be nice to have my shirts.”

This was often the way with traditional craftsmen. But as the world has moved on, giving customers greater service and reliability, they have stayed stock still.

Tailoring, suits and bespoke have never been more fashionable. This season the men’s shows saw models coming down the runway in double-breasted suits, ties and pocket handkerchiefs. How long is it since that happened? Suddenly everyone is talking about waistcoats, or bow ties. We are at the apex of the trend.

Matters sartorial have been quietly growing in popularity for four or five years (something that has probably contributed to the success of this blog – it can’t be the quality of the writing). But from the apex the only way is down. Once the high street has caught on, and your friends are buying more suits, the trend is dying. In three years it will all be tracksuits and sportswear.

Some tailors have grabbed this opportunity with both hands. They have invested in their businesses, introduced modern management and become spokesmen for the industry. I would place Anderson & Sheppard and Norton & Sons in this category.

Others have reacted to the increase in business by taking longer to make things. They’ve always had two tailors; they still have two tailors. If orders double, they just take a year to make rather than six months. They haven’t hired any more staff. Perhaps more importantly, they haven’t hired any younger staff.

My friend is not alone in his frustration. I have heard similar stories about shirtmakers and some tailors – all of them old, all of them traditional. Those are the businesses that won’t be around when young men are wearing tracksuits again.

The tailors that will survive are the ones investing now.

Reader question: Wearing odd jackets

David: I very much enjoy your blog and find it to be a great source of inspiration in my desire to master the art of permanent style. I was hoping you could help me in the matter of choosing odd jackets. I am starting a new job where most people wear a jacket but no one wears a necktie. I will probably wear grey flannel trousers, beige chinos and a light-coloured shirt. But I am not sure what odd jackets to wear. I don’t currently own any. What would you recommend to me if I have only one, three or five odd jackets to use for work?

The first thing to ensure about an odd jacket is that it goes well with the trousers. They must not clash in their pattern and they must be of a similar formality. As both your suggested pairs of trousers are plain, pattern is not much of an issue. And as they are both relatively informal, the jackets should reflect this in their cloth.

So my first suggestion to you would be a jacket in a pale grey, with a heavy texture in the cloth and in a relatively informal wool. So not worsted, but flannel, tweed, camel hair or something similarly rough. The heavy texture could be a herringbone or a hound’s-tooth. (Like the one pictured – from J.Crew)

The reason I suggest this for your first jacket is that the pattern is not too bold or eye-catching – there is enough visual interest to distinguish it from the trousers, but it is not a loud tweed. It is also classic and simple without being uniform – a blazer would offer less personality in your one item.

Your second jacket should be a blazer, though. Navy blue, preferably in something heavier than standard worsted wool, and fitting immaculately. Too many Americans wear a blazer and chinos out of laziness. Neither is likely to fit well and the jacket will rarely be buttoned. To differentiate yourself, get a blazer that is slim-cut, perhaps with just one button. And don’t go for brass buttons – something different, either plain blue or a different metal; perhaps even a cream colour like the Italians.

Third for me would be a tweed. The colour is a question of personal taste, as is the size of the check, but make sure it is slim (again) and smart enough to look at home both in the country and the office. I have a Donegal one-button tweed from Kilgour, in mid-grey, that I would put in this category.

Fourth, something for the summer – a tan linen or cotton gabardine. Make sure the linen is heavy, and if you think tan would be too casual, switch to a navy or a grey.

The fifth jacket can be something more adventurous: a classic black stroller if you want to add formality, something in an unusual colour like mid-green if you want to add flair.

When building the collection, just bear in mind that you want a spread of weights for different seasons and a spread of formalities for different occasions.

Lodger reverse auction update

Tomorrow is the fourth week of the Lodger reverse auctions - where a pair of shoes falls in price by £2 a minute, and anyone can win them at the current price just by picking up the phone. It's a game of nerves.

So far a pair of Kudu boots has gone for £233 (down from £415), a pair of wrapped oxfords has gone for £104 (down from £500) and some almond slip-ons went for £115 (down from £375). So pretty good discounts all round.

Tomorrow it's the turn of the tobacco slip-ons above in sizes 6, 7, 8.5, 11, 11.5, 12, and 12.5. The auction starts at 3pm to let our friends in the US take part. Eighty-four people are signed up to watch the auction already. To join them, go to Twitter and search for LodgerFootwear.

I love this unique way to bargain hunt. Not sure my nerves can stand it though.

Milan's idiosyncratic Al Bazar

Al Bazar is not Milan style; but it is a standout destination for classic menswear in Milan.

Milanese residents get frustrated at times that Al Bazar is the most famous menswear shop for foreign fans of classic tailoring. Its unique persona – literally, in founder Lino Ieluzzi – and stylish quirks has created an enthusiastic following. But the style is Lino’s. He wears it, designs it, buys it. It is not Milan; for that, go to Bardelli just a few streets away. It is just Al Bazar: a stylish collection of oddities, inspiration and chaotic colours.

Last week I popped in early to have a look around and spent an hour chatting to assistant Gianpaolo Alliata before “the boss” turned up. Gianpaolo had a good description for Al Bazar’s aim: “We started out trying to produce clothes that would excite the sons of the people that shopped at Bardelli. Not teenagers, but those in their 20s, 30s and older. We did new things, we experimented with colour and shape – though the aesthetic has always been very constant. Over time, the fathers started shopping here as well. So the customer base is pretty broad now.”

The clothes at Al Bazar are a mixture of other brands (Levi’s), designs for the store from other companies (Guy Rover for Al Bazar shirts) and clothes under the store’s label (most of the jackets and tailoring). There is a mixture of bright and classic colours, jackets and suits, classic and Neapolitan shoulders. But all are cut pretty slim – a double-breasted jacket is adjusted to be very narrow, on the understanding that it will be undone when the gentleman sits down. Contrary to tradition, perhaps, but it does allow for a much more aggressive shape.

Gianpaolo was also quick to point out that the trouser shape was definitely an Italian invention (his grey flannel trousers were narrow, short and cuffed – barely touching the shoe). “You young people may know all about Thom Browne, but trust me we’ve been wearing our trousers like this for decades,” he said. “This is our style and always has been.”

Tailored items that stood out for me included several double-breasted corduroy jackets in a variety of pale colours – cotton with a decent chunk of cashmere in them, producing a very silky handle (Zegna Cashco). And some pale-grey covert coats with black velvet collars (both picture below). Often the skill with Al Bazar is producing clothes that are just that little bit different – that coat is a lot softer than it looks, yet still has the substance of tweed.

The shirts from Guy Rover (a great Italian shirtmaker, despite the name) are well-known – traditional menswear importer Neglia also stocks them in Milan. With a slim cut and a spread collar, they are the kind of item that gets Lino noticed on the terraces of Inter Milan – and does the PR for Al Bazar all on its own. (At least among Italians; foreign fans are driven by The Sartorialist).

The shirts also come with a spare collar and cuffs, for when these get frayed with use. So in theory they should last years. (I’m much more likely to stain mine irrevocably before that point, but maybe that’s just me.) However, the spare collars and cuffs are unlikely to be around for too much longer – extra costs are driving them out of the store.

Less mentioned is the second line of shirts, not by Guy Rover but with a slimmer cut and a slightly higher collar. Personally this was the style I preferred – but then I saw a Guy Rover one in a very subtle, horizontal Bengal stripe, and was sold.

Prices also pretty reasonable for a high-end, highly fashionable store: shirts at €110, jackets around €700. If it wasn’t for the terrible sterling-euro exchange rate, I would have bought more. As Lino said (he had arrived by this point): “We’re outside the main shopping centre of the city so we have to offer something a little bit more to get people to come out here. They do though; they do come.”

65,000 and counting

Friends, family and fans – thank you for your support and interest in Permanent Style. Thanks to you, our monthly readership numbers are now up to 65,000 (Google figure for September), an increase of 17,000 on just three months earlier.

It's great to know what we write about has such interest out there in the wider world. Please, carry on posting comments and feedback on stories. We love to know what you think.

Simon

Book review: The last shall be first

This famous book is well-named-: its sub-title is ‘The colourful story of John Lobb, the bootmakers of St James’s’. That colour comes from tales of the young Lobb, social history of the development of bootmaking and pocket biographies of the shop’s most famous customers.

But fortunately there is also colour about the product – the boots themselves. Just skip the bits on the Lobb family and the lists of customers.

For example, I didn’t know that traditionally the best brown shoes were always made out of Russia calf, the best black ones out of waxed calf. I wasn’t aware that the clicker in men’s shoes was the senior or “aristocratic” role – he was the foreman that handed out the work to the other craftsmen, which makes sense I suppose, as his was the first stage. And I didn’t know that in the middle of the nineteenth century, bootmakers were the most numerous of any trade in London (apart from “general labourers”).

It is also interesting to read about the habits of Lobb customers. The average man bought 2-5 pairs a year, but there were few such men and they were all very rich. One, Frank Harris (“king of Pornographers” in late Victorian England), bought a pair of Russian leather laced boots, some calf toecaps, calf boot toecaps and a pair of patent “no caps” in 1899. Lord Alfred Douglas (‘Bosie’ in relation to Oscar Wilde) bought a “pair of Russia”, two pairs of calf button boots, “Russia caps” and patent Oxford no caps in 1902. While both men were at the height of their notoriety at this point, they must nonetheless have ended up with a lot of Lobb boots.

Those boots took one (fast) craftsman about 12 hours to make. And in the late nineteenth century, a man had to make six every week just to feed his family. So the gap between craftsman and customer was rather larger than it is today, even though the price has inflated from £2-something to £2000-something.

And then there’s my favourite story from the book. During the First World War it became very hard to get the hog’s bristles that shoemakers used to guide the waxed thread through the holes punched by the awl. Over a pint in the pub, six bootmakers settled on a plan and set out to Regent’s Park with apples, pears and nuts. They strolled into London Zoo, waited until no keeper was about and then converged on the hog enclosures. They used the fruit to tempt the animals forward, then grabbed two handfuls of hair each and ran. That was enough for six months of bootmaking.

I highly recommend this book to anyone with an interest in traditional shoemaking. Just read it selectively. It is now out of print I believe, but it can be bought second-hand on Amazon from $30.

Handmade boots from Cliff

Twelve weeks ago I commissioned a pair of boots from Cliff Roberts, a shoemaker from Northampton who used to work for one of the big outfits there and is now based at home. He makes handmade shoes (lastmaking and closing is done externally, the sole sewn on by machine – but everything else done by Cliff, by hand).

The production and timeline can be a little erratic, given it is just one man making the shoes. But previous customers report excellent quality, fit and materials. And they look pretty darn good too.

Another advantage is that Cliff will send photos of the work-in-progress, taken by his wife. This always adds a certain something to the process of commissioning clothes. I have reproduced some of these below.

And as the shoes are custom-made, you can of course have them in any size, material or design (on one of Cliff’s two lasts). I went for an Oxford boot, in brown calf with the upper sections in suede. There is a wing-tip to the boot but no brogueing. The division between leather and suede is gimped, but not the wing-tip. I also specified the painting of the sole and the position and pattern of its nails. The two boots are a half size different, and different widths.

Oh, and I’m having my initials punched onto the sole. Because I’m just that shallow.

The first two pictures, below, show Cliff marking out the patterns for the uppers.

The next two show Cliff cutting out the leather for the uppers (clicking) by hand.

Next, Cliff hand-punches the eyelets in the boots.

The uppers are lasted onto the wooden lasts by hand, securing the leather at every stage with nails.

Next the leather toe puff is secured in place and side stiffeners added.

The thread for sewing the welts is prepared and waxed.

The welt is then sewn on by hand.

Finally, here are the boots at their current stage, without soles or heels.

A tour around Milan

As anyone who has been fortunate enough to visit Milan will tell you, the city is not all fashion. There are several old and new stores worth the visit for those interested in classic menswear.

By reputation, the city’s three stand-out establishments for tradition and quality are Bardelli, Neglia and Tincati. However, each offers something quite different – as I discovered recently.

Neglia is the destination for Milanese men looking to the best in English and American imports. So the shoes are Church’s and Edward Green, the umbrellas and the bags from Brigg, the suits in the window from Ralph Lauren, and half of the ties from Drake’s. So while there are also top-class Italian names like Brioni and Kiton, and Neglia’s new and expanded own-label suits, the shop does not offer much to the international visitor that he can’t get elsewhere. The one exception is probably Incotex trousers – their cords pictured below.

M Bardelli is very different. One of the oldest men’s clothing establishments in Milan, it could safely claim to be the definition of Milanese style – classic, formal, with heavy English influences. Particularly prevalent (this season at least) are sports jackets in grey and brown checks and strongly striped shirts. As well as woollen ties in club stripes, which are ubiquitous for Autumn/Winter in Milan. While not necessarily inspirational, it is the base from which Milan can be understood.

Tincati is smaller, more refined and idiosyncractic. Very lightweight raincoats, woven belts and soft thin knitwear, it also has a dedicated area at the back from bespoke orders. Certainly worth a look.

Of more modern, quirky establishments, Al Bazar is the standout. Located outside the centre (a couple of streets from Bardelli), it is a treasure trove of items collected under the aesthetic of one man – Lino Leluzzi. More on Al Bazar on Permanent Style next week.

The greatest joy, however, is discovering less well-known shops. Like Piombo, just off the Golden Triangle, which had the most lovely unlined, washed cashmere green blazer (and one of their colour combinations is below). Or Rivolta, the old Milanese shoemaker that has recently relaunched with a model for making bespoke shoes purely off an electronic scan of your feet (a longer feature, again, is on Permanent Style). Larusmiani is also worth a look. It is an ultra luxurious menswear store on Via Montenapoleone that reminds me of Kiton before it grew. An old name in Milan, it is surrounded by fashion houses but retains a very particular character.

Anything else worth mentioning? The Etro sale store on Via Spartaco (50% of this season, 75% of the last); absolutely gorgeous and well-cut knits at Red and Blue, which looks more like it is called Fedeli (the brand of clothes sold); and Doriani for similar knitwear reasons. Oh, and go have lunch in the café at Corso Como (below), then wander around the shop inside – a great menagerie of brands.

It was also two days, but it feels like there’s so much more to tell.

Observations from Milan

Milan has the most consistently, classicly elegant men in the world.

This is not necessarily a good thing. Many, in the fashion industry in particular, criticise Milanese men for a conservatism that is dull and impersonal. They all dress the same; they all dress like their fathers; they all wear the same goddamn blue tie.

A more balanced view comes from Michael Drake, of Drake’s ties in London: “Italy has a bigger, more consistent conservative establishment than most other places in the world. That is why our ties sell well there – men have similar views about classic style and investing in quality. It is an international style, that can go anywhere in the world and be recognised.”

Britain, for all its history, does not have this. The establishment is less conservative, less cohesive and less interested in clothes. Advocates praise British eccentricity and creativity – perhaps demonstrated by Paul Smith. And to a young man growing up in Milan it’s easy to see how that would be a breath of fresh air.

But to those of us outside Milan, and passionate about classic men’s style, the gentlemen of that city are an inspiration. Here are some observations from a few days spent there last week.

The strength of colours stands out immediately. Brighter light and darker skin make them easier to wear – but it is the strong dark colours that particularly inspire. An attendant in one store described their new range as containing “jackets with a Neapolitan shoulder in the classic colours – blue, brown, green”. Green as a standard jacket colour? But there it was, in several stores – as an odd jacket, unlined, in a deep forest green (sometimes with white buttons).

The combinations of colours were also strong. Every jacket displayed has a pocket handkerchief, with the pairings including brown/lilac, navy/mint and brown/sky blue. The handkerchief coming second in that list, of course.

As reflected in my previous observation The Italian Background, there are more navy ties in Milan than any other colour. They are silk, wool and linen, plain, striped and spotted; but they are all navy. This allows greater adventure in jackets and suits – several men wore great tan-gabardine suits; I saw two purple-cashmere odd jackets; linen was often navy but surprisingly common. Equally, the pocket handkerchief was probably more likely to be bright and patterned than the tie.

Other observations include fitted sweaters – even in old, conservative establishments the sweaters were short and slim at the waist (I recommend Red & Blue in particular). And the length of the rear blade of a tie is almost irrelevant compared to the length of the front, which must always finish at the top of the trousers – the back can be longer, tuck into the trousers or hang at the same length on its own.

There are, of course, many badly dressed men in Milan. If the proportion of British men that I consider well-dressed (in my very personal, subjective taste) is one in fifty, in Milan it is one in ten. But that’s still a lot more inspiration.

Look out for the next post, on recommended shops.

Rivolta: A brave innovation in bespoke

Milan can easily be underrated by men who love classic style. Given the choice of Italian cities to visit, they would always pick Naples – the home of soft tailoring, that very distinctive shoulder and companies like E Marinella and Kiton (not to mention all the dozens of smaller, local tailors). Even Rome, the home of Brioni and the original Caraceni, often gets more attention. Milan can easily be dismissed as the (albeit worldwide) centre of ready-to-wear, disposable fashion.

It deserves better, if only for houses like Bardelli, Larusmiani and Al Bazar – which mix the traditional, luxurious and idiosyncratic sides of Italian style respectively. But it should also be known for its shoemakers. In particular, the very traditional firm of Rivolta.

Sitting on Via della Spiga, in the centre of fashion’s Golden Triangle and surrounded by Roberto Cavalli, Dolce & Gabbana and the rest, Rivolta is quietly trying to start its own little revolution in men’s shoes.

Rivolta is an old, Milanese name. The company was founded in 1883 and survived both world wars making bespoke shoes for a strong, loyal client base. But it was forced to close down in the 1970s under pressure from mass-market producers.

Then in March this year, it was bought and relaunched by the son of the Rivolta family. He fitted up a new store in Milan, complete with a mini-museum of old Rivolta shoes. He found an artisan factory outside Florence to begin making Rivolta shoes again on the classic round-toed shape that was the firm’s trademark. And he did something a little bit different – he installed an electronic scanner that would enable Rivolta to make bespoke shoes in an entirely new way.

Shoemakers have many different ways to produce shoes that fit. Ready-to-wear shoes usually come in several different ranges, all on different lasts and so different shapes – some will suit men with wide feet, others will be best for those with high arches. Those lasts will come in different sizes – better shoemakers will have more variations in size and in width.

Bespoke shoemakers, on the other hand, trace your feet onto paper, measure them and produce unique lasts (shapes) that are used to create shoes. You will have more than one fitting, often with a half-made shoe that can be tried out before the final pair is made.

Finally, some shoemakers (such as Lodger) try to combine aspects of the two – the shoes are not bespoke, but they come in many different sizes, and an electronic scanner is used to measure every aspect of your feet to find the right last, length and width.

Rivolta is different again. It applies the same scanning technology but uses it to create a personal (plastic) last. That last is used by shoemakers to create bespoke, handmade shoes. No fittings, no paper measurements. Just bespoke shoes in 40 days, for around €1400.

Customers can pick from several different colours of leather, and between calf, suede, patent and cordovan. There is also a tumbled calf that the firm refers to as its English leather, and a waterproof suede. You can pick from Goodyear-welted, Blake or Norwegian (where the welt is sewn to the outside of the shoe).

There are several different styles, including two Oxfords, a Derby and a monk. The shape is quite classic and round – redolent to my eye of the Budapest shoe made famous by Vass. There is also a new last being introduced soon. The shoes are all hand-clicked, lasted and finished, with the welting done by machine.

Although still a little clunky, Rivolta also has a floor-to-ceiling computer screen that allows you to select your colour, model and leather, and see it transposed onto your feet.

Now critics will say that bespoke shoes need fittings. As I have written on my blog Permanent Style in the past, there are men that have their own last made (usually at Springline in the UK) and use independent closers and makers to make their shoes for them. This is usually cheaper than full bespoke from Cleverley’s, Lobb or someone else. Plus you have your own last that you can take elsewhere.

The problem is, it takes a while to get that last right. It usually takes one or two attempts with a half-made shoe, and resulting tweaks to the last, before you can find a perfect fit. Just like having a suit made: bespoke means fittings, often a few of them.

So can Rivolta’s scheme work? Well, store manager Elena Invernizzi says they have had several very happy customers already, some of whom had had full bespoke shoes made in the past. So the method is obviously living up to some people’s standards. Personally, I’ll wait until I try it myself – or know someone that has. In the meantime, plaudits to Rivolta for a brave and innovative move in men’s footwear.

[I have also since been informed that you can see the Rivolta machinery at work here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKzmhxFRaJI]

Finally, lap seam pictures

A while ago a few readers requested a picture of the lap seam, as referred to in my feature on Pogson & Davis, tailors of Mayfair. Apologies this has taken so long, but here they are.

The lap seam is a decorative technique that creates an overlap of material up the side seam of a pair of trousers. Traditionally it is more formal rather than less. The second picture, below, shows how the seam folds into the trouser pocket.

Original post here: http://permanentstyle.blogspot.com/2009/07/decorative-lap-seam-pogson-davis.html

The coat project 4

I had the first fitting last week for my bespoke overcoat – a traditional polo coat in camel hair, with the addition of a full-length pleat in the back that can be adjusted depending on what is worn underneath. (See previous instalment here.)

Earlier in the week I had seen a very similar model in Larusmiani of Milan. But though that had a full-length pleat, it was sewn together underneath the belt, which was not adjustable. Full marks for style, not so much on the practicality.

In an English September still enjoying 23-degree heat, the coat felt like a duvet (even with one arm missing). While the camel hair is very soft and has a lovely handle, it is also spongier than cashmere and can more easily resemble a tough (though luxurious) blanket.

Normally, tailors would make the coat one-and-a-half sizes bigger than a customer’s suit. My tailor Russell at Graham Browne had gone for just one size bigger, yet it was still a little large around the waist even on the smallest setting. I put this down to the extra material of the pleat; we took quite a few tucks in the cloth and it will be ripped down and recut for a second basted fitting.

The coat was also slightly longer than I expected, but I think this was an optical illusion created by the slight flare Russell had included, to make sure it was comfortable to walk in when fastened on the smallest setting. We took that in a bit too.

The split sleeve is a tailoring skill that is nice to show off, with the shoulder seam joining the sleeve seam to form one continuous line. But I think it also complements the style of the coat overall, something that will be particularly shown by the raised seams once the coat reaches its next stage.

I was interested to see that the canvas extends down the whole length of the coat, from chest to bottom seam. Apparently that not only adds shape but is essential for the lining and front seam to affix to. Most ready-to-wear coats will not include a full-length canvas, but rather a fused cotton layer from the bottom of the chest downwards.

Next basted fitting at the beginning of next week, though there is likely to be little to report except our struggles to get the fit right with the pleat. Perhaps just some nice photos.