Two aspects of figuration

I discovered an interesting aspect of figuration today, while being measured for a new suit. (Figuration being the process where a tailor adapts a suit to your particular bodily quirks – the steps beyond just making sure the shoulders are the right width.)

The tailor pointed out that I have a slight stoop forward, slightly prominent shoulder blades, a hollowed lower back (partly due to being slim) and a large seat. If you can imagine that effect down the line of my back, it produces a S-shape – exaggerated curves caused by the shoulder blades and bum, with a hollow in between.

Most other suits I have follow the line of my back, meaning that the rear of the skirt kicks out a little over my bum. To correct this and mitigate the S-shape, a little more fullness will be added in the small of my back with this suit. But a little will be taken out of the front too, so that the waist size remains the same. Effectively, the lower half of the jacket will be swung backwards a touch.

On my previous suit I had also noticed that the collar stood away slightly from the back of my neck. A fairly obvious fault. But it was also pointed out this time that, when I looked at the suit from the front, this standing away was most prominent on the right of my neck.

This, it seems, was because I leant ever-so-slightly to the right, as well as a little forward. That was noticeable both at the neck but also below my right arm, where the cloth collapses a little between the waist and scye. Rebalancing the suit a little, so it is slightly lower on that right side, should correct this.

Both of these are aspects of fit that I have never noticed before, but of course now will not be able to ignore. Like the day after I had my first bespoke shirt fitted, and realised all my shirts had a slightly short left arm.

These are the pleasures of bespoke, such as they are. Every time you improve one facet of fit, you discover another that is wrong.

I admire tailors and shirtmakers for being able to spot these little things. But I do wish they’d stagger pointing them out to me.

Made-to-measure shirts at Diverso

I remember when I first stumbled across London shirtmaker Diverso. It was a few years ago, when my enthusiasm for clothes was still some distance ahead of my knowledge. Shirts with high collars were highly fashionable, but I couldn’t find any at an affordable price. So when I discovered this boutique tucked down one of the alleys of St Christopher’s Place, I was enthralled.

High, two-button cutaway collars, cocktail cuffs and, most mesmerising, a sea of innovations, colours and patterns. My first purchase was a white shirt with a red floral pattern on the collar band, the inside of the cuff and the edge of the placket. My second was a brown-and-white stripe with white collar and cuffs. I have since disposed of both.

But this was the fault of my youthful tastes, rather than the quality of the shirts. The fit was good, nice and slim at a time when that was harder to find. And the quality of the cotton was high. (You! The one singing ‘Summertime’ from Porgy and Bess. Stop it.)

So I was interested when the guys at Diverso, James and Darren, invited me to try their made-to-measure service just before Christmas. This time I went for a more conservative blue Bengal-stripe, with the lowest of their collars (which happens to be exactly the same height as the ‘taller’ collar prescribed to me by Turnbull & Asser bespoke). My only design whim was to opt for a club collar. Because I don’t own one.

An approximate size (‘medium’) was put on me and adjusted in several places. The collar was made smaller, the cuff size reduced and the arms shortened. The last two had been such a problem with my previous purchases that I had ended up shifting the position of the cuff buttons myself to try and tighten them.

Most importantly, the tails were lengthened. Because the problem with fashion shirts is that some men wear them untucked, some tucked. The length is therefore usually a compromise between the two.

Diverso shirts are made at a factory in Italy whose main customer is Dolce & Gabbana main line. James and Darren convinced it to make shirts for them when they travelled to Italy (fresh from leaving university and a job respectively) and pretended to have financial backing. A successful, cult shop in Fulham later, they moved to St Christopher’s Place and are now contemplating expansion. Wholesale carries Diverso shirts in the south-east, Birmingham and Nigeria, amongst others.

When the shirt came back two weeks later I have to say I was impressed. The collar, body and arms fit well. I was pleased that I opted for just one button on the collar, as this makes its height less noticeable. If I was to niggle, I’d probably have the cuffs a little bit tighter. But overall it was a good first job.

Worth a look, particularly if your tastes in shirts (or ties, or polos) are more adventurous than mine.

[The images here are merely decorative, general shots from the factory and don't necessarily reflect my shirt-making service.]

The Modern Tailor, Outfitter and Clothier

My tailor, Russell, recently lent me the tailoring book he was passed by his old boss at Kashket’s, the military tailors, when he retired. Dan and Russell still use it for reference on particularly unusual jobs like riding britches or certain coats.

The book has no cover (the picture here is of a rather smarter edition). Its front is merely the beginning of Chapter 1 – Some Problems of the Tailoring Trade, by F. Chitham (Director, Harrods, Ltd.). Through good fortune and no doubt some decent treatment, this front page has survived without mark, despite the lack of a cover. And the back of the book is merely page 274 – the end of detailed descriptions on how to cut a West End Morning Coat.

The book therefore has no title. But through a little research, I have discovered that this is volume one of The Modern Tailor, Outfitter and Clothier, by A A Whife. Whife was the technical editor of The Tailor and Cutter, a trade magazine that was published from the 1850s until the 1960s. Volumes two and three apparently go into clerical dress, court dress and women’s wear. Which is probably why Russell only kept volume one.

The fact that this is only the first volume also explains why there is no index. A reference system would seem to be indispensable for a guide like this, which aims to teach cutting in no small detail.

On page 162 one can follow the instructions for a pattern of the ‘coat-frock’, which though full in the back as we consider a frock coat to be, has a belt that cinches in the waist. There is one alternative pattern, on the following page, but this is for a coat-frock with “Magyar shoulders; short sleeves; square neck; gathers on hips.”

As I read my way through this guide, expect occasional blog posts on interesting patterns and points. To start with, though, Mr Chitham’s introduction. It begins with the cheery note that “the Growing Competition to which the trade has been subjected … is the greatest problem of all, and is peculiar to the bespoke tailoring trade, in that it is a competition which threatens the very existence of many hundreds of persons engaged in the business.” The decline hasn’t stopped, really, since he wrote that a century ago. Though there are fewer hundreds threatened today.

He goes on to recommend that tailors should not become too specialist, yet should concentrate on one ‘class’ of trade: “it is impossible to make a ‘cheap’ suit today and a ‘good’ suit tomorrow.” Some houses that have pulled back from ready-to-wear should perhaps have learned their lesson here.

And finally, Chitham thinks it absolutely necessary for salesmanship that “every tailor should be extremely particular about his personal appearance, in order to create a favourable impression. He must also cultivate a pleasing manner.” I’ll have to show Russell that bit…

Don't polish with too much water

Polishing leather shoes up to a brilliant shine is an extremely enjoyable pastime.

Nathan Brown over at Lodger always says that one of the problems with being an entrepreneur is that he never gets the time to sit down and polish his shoes any more. George Glasgow at Cleverley has complained to me of the same thing. Lodger’s store manager Clement has the opposite problem: he spends all his time polishing shoes but never his own, just the ones on Lodger’s shelves.

Personally I like to spend a good half an hour over a pair while the wife is watching something atrocious on the telly. It is meditative, engaging and rewarding.

I think it’s rewarding for two reasons. First, with no other piece of clothing does maintenance actually improve the item. It just puts brakes on a natural decline. Brushing your suit only returns it to the state it was that morning. The same with ironing a shirt or repairing a button. The best you can do is get back to zero.

Polishing your shoes is more akin to wearing a canvassed suit and feeling it mould to your body, or indeed wearing in the upper of a shoe. Except that, with polishing, greater effort is rewarded with greater results. Not only is it a positive activity, it is one you can control.

The second reason is the wonderful aesthetic experience. After you’ve applied the first layer of polish, and then returned with more polish and a touch of water, you can see each circle of your finger produce a swirl of brightness, getting more intense and reflective with each repetition. It is as if your fingers are coaxing out pure light.

But don’t apply too much water. Just a dab of it the first time and only occasional top-ups later on. The cloth remains damp for a while, and too much water can soak into the leather and make it hard to carry on polishing. This is particularly true on thinner or more flexible sections, such as the bridge and instep. The toe and heel, being more rigid and reinforced by internal pieces of leather, can take a lot more.

For each layer on the toe and heel (don’t do more than one layer elsewhere), carry on working in the polish until the surface is super-smooth, like glass. Until your little swirls make no perceptible difference to the surface. Then take a tiny bit more polish, and repeat. Don’t stop until you can tell the time on your watch in it.

‘Relocation relocation’ is on TV. I’m off to fetch my Cleverleys.

Three tips on ties

This post refers to ‘three more tips’ because way back in April 2008 I wrote a post called Two Tips on Ties. I think the alliteration rather pleased me at the time.

That was a discussion about the best way to get a nice dimple in a tie knot. And it does work: you just have to create a memory of the fold in the tie’s lining (assuming it is lined).

This post is about getting your tie to stand upright in the collar, arching out from the neck to create a flattering curve. The three tips are: keep it at the top of the collar band, tighten it horizontally and make sure it remains central.

None of these will keep your tie at its proud, priapic best all day long. No matter how well tied, or how great the quality, no silk necktie will stay in its ideal position permanently. It will need occasional adjustment. But the alternative is a tie bar or pin, which rather stifles the silk in my opinion. Rather, let it hang and adjust when needed.

The first tip: make sure that the neck of your tie is at the top of the collar band of your shirt. While most ties won’t be much narrower than the shirt collar, making sure it is right at the top will make a surprising difference to the curve of the tie. Once the knot is tied, you can check this by tucking one finger in each side of the collar and pushing the tie up. This is most important on high collars, and is easiest with spread collars.

Second tip: when you tighten the tie, do it horizontally, parallel to the ground. Lift up the rear blade and push the knot flat into the collar. The initial angle will subside after a while, but it still makes a perceptible difference.

Third tip: make sure the top of the knot is central in the collar gap. Because a four-in-hand knot (assuming that’s what you’re using – you should) is always skewed to one side, the bottom of the knot will not be central if the top is. The tie will come out of the knot slightly to one side. Some men, not realising this, keep the tie central and the top of knot slightly under one side of the collar. As it is therefore slightly constricted, the knot will often pull slightly away from the collar or not curve as it could.

Three tips on ties.

The details of Pal Zileri Sartoriale

Italian brands like Canali, Corneliani, Zegna and Pal Zileri all place a lot of emphasis upon the family ethic of their production and the hand-made nature of their suits. At least with the highest label, such as Zegna’s Couture or Sartoriale at Pal Zileri, there is a pride about buttonholes and sleeveheads being sewn by hand. (The latter being a question of comfort, the former more of status and aesthetics.)

While not quite reaching the heights of Brioni or Kiton, these four brands all make very well constructed suits and have individual devotees. One thing that I have always felt stands out about Pal Zileri, though, is the design.

Last year I remember browsing the Pal Zileri store on Bond Street and becoming fascinated with an unlined, unconstructed cashmere overcoat. Navy on the outside, orange check on the inside. It seemed so unlike anything I had seen in any comparable brand. Needless to say, when I came to researching this piece last week, the overcoat had sold out, the last few pieces snapped up in the sale.

Yet there was still no lack of design quirks on display. Not all unique to Pal Zileri, perhaps, but symptomatic of the psychology behind the brand. One unlined blazer I looked at, for example, had a very neat little floating pocket sewn to the inside hip (above). While not necessarily innovative, it was very fitted and sharp where those of other brands can seem like rather an afterthought.

That same blazer also purposefully left its internal seams open along the sides of the jacket and under the shoulders, so you could see the horsehair-and-cotton lining and delicate shoulder pads (above). Also, mother-of-pearl buttons on black cashmere.

I also like the fact that the trouser cuffs in the Sartoriale range all have buttons that attach them to the trouser leg, so you can let them down when they’re being cleaned (below). And the buttons are identical to those on the front of the jacket, only smaller.

The internal chest pockets also extend above the opening as well as below, to help hold cheque books or particularly long wallets without making the pocket too deep (below). And there’s standard details like coin pockets and split waistbands.

Around 70% of the Sartoriale jackets are handsewn, with a particular focus on sleeves, buttonholes and linings. There’s always a handsewn loop behind the lapel to secure one’s boutonniere as well. The cloth is always cut by machine, though, and the next option up is made-to-measure rather than bespoke.

Pal Zileri is a relative newcomer to the UK, but one with a growing fanbase. Its emphasis on design is also clear from the more experimental Lab range, which now has its own dedicated store in London’s Westfield shopping centre.

A grown-up loafer from Fin's

As I've mentioned before, a friend of a friend runs a shoe brand called Fin's. Great value for money, handmade in Portugal and just small enough that you're unlikely to know anyone else with a pair (unless you happen to know Alexandra), her loafers/driving shoes are pretty comfortable and come in some nice pastel colours.

Fin's, apparently due to popular demand, has launched a new shoe - its George loafer but with a leather sole, now renamed the Marshall. Good colours too. I particularly like the blue and dark green.

Check them out.

Comments policy

Hello one and all,

It has always been my policy to allow all comments, unfiltered, to appear on this blog. The only ones that have ever been deleted are those that have been obvious advertising or spam. I always liked the fact that my comments appear immediately on some blogs, rather than taking a few hours. Feels more like a conversation.

Unfortunately, the level of advertising and spam has reached unmanageable levels. Having spent the last two hours manually deleting 30 pieces of advertising from various old posts, I have regretfully decided to switch to an approvals system for comments.

I hope this does not affect your enjoyment of Permanent Style. My approvals policy will be the same as my deletion policy. All genuine comments are welcome. I am an explorer, a relative beginner, and always want to hear other people's opinions and experiences.

Simon

Reminiscing with Toby Luper, Hemingway

As an Englishman interested in classic style, it strikes as a particular shame that the industrial manufacture of clothes has suffered so much in this country. Leeds used to be world famous for its suit production, for example, a natural home for the industry being so close to the mills of Huddersfield. And while England still has some of the finest tailors in the world and punches well above its weight in fashion design, domestic manufacturing is a woeful hole.

It was fascinating, therefore, to meet Toby Luper this week. Now a visiting tailor, Toby’s family used to run the biggest suit factory in the country: Black and Luper of Kirkstall Road, Leeds. Back in the 1950s the factory, run by Norman Black and Stanley Luper (Toby’s father), employed hundreds of workers and made thousands of suits for Burtons and Burberry, amongst others. Largely made-to-measure garments, the workers spent their days tending the machines – though there were always tailors on site to correct any mistakes made in the process.

It was the loss of the Burberry raincoat contract in 1991 that triggered the factory’s demise. Having begun his career selling his father’s excess suits from a warehouse in Leeds, and later joining the company proper, Toby tried to rebuild the family business under the name Executex. When that didn’t work out, he turned to personal tailoring.

And while much of Leeds’ business elite now wears Toby’s suits, more than half of his business is now in London. Coming down once a week, or whenever clients request it, Toby visits bankers in their office or uses the Holland & Sherry fitting rooms on Savile Row.

Bespoke starts at £1,850 and made-to-measure £550. The former requires a paper pattern, cutting and sewing by hand in Leeds. Toby brings all his suits to London for fittings (though preferring just the one, forward fitting). The latter is fitted here but made by a company in the Czech Republic, one that Toby’s family has worked with for more than 20 years.

Toby is not only enthusiastic but fastidious about his work. Our half-hour conversation included a debate on pre-made shoulder pads, the merits of a basted fitting and how many men would notice the difference (at first blush) between made-to-measure and bespoke. Sadly from my perspective, but perhaps fortunately for them, the answer is not very many.

There was time for a little reminiscing about the days when England was a clothing powerhouse, though. Like the work ethic his father instilled in him. The first day Toby joined, his father made him sweep the warehouse, so that he always had a riposte if an employee refused to do it. Sounds fun.

Two questions on wedding attire

It must be the season for planning weddings. Not only did one of my best friends get engaged (congratulations Henry) I had two questions this week about what to wear as a groom.

KL: Mr Crompton, I’m an avid reader of your blog and I’ve loved your posts on what to wear to a wedding. I’d love to hear more of your thoughts though if you were the groom at an informal wedding. I’ve been thinking of a couple of possibilities like a grey 1b peak w/ db vest, navy db, navy 2b peak sb, navy/grey Hunstman-style 1b suits. I have a houndstooth Macclesfield or a champagne tie that I love and may wear for personal significance.

Peter: Dear Simon, I am a long time reader of Permanent Style. Happily, I am getting married this summer - in the middle of August. There is pressure from the bride for this to be a formal wedding, but her definition of formal doesn’t extend much beyond a dinner jacket and black bowtie. I am not certain that that is entirely appropriate for a church wedding and would like to wear something a little more personal. My initial thoughts are: Black, SB, notched, black silk lapel, possibly with an heirloom silver button (instead of a silk-covered button). Black trousers with silk along the seam. Waistcoat in a dark, dark green (Favourbrook has some nice ones). White shirt, black tie (not bowtie), white pocket square.

Now my opinion on wedding attire can be summarised in the following, hopefully logical, points.

First, propriety is king. So if there is an obvious dress code, either stated or implicit, stay within it. Do not upstage anyone, especially the groom. Be smart enough, even a little smarter than the rest of the guests, but do not stand out like a sore thumb. This is not your day. And if the dress code is black tie, much as I hate that American tendency at daytime weddings, wear it.

Second, if there is no obvious dress code other than being smart, feel free to take it down a notch sartorially. I know that, as a formal day event, you should be wearing morning dress, and if not that then the smartest lounge suit you own: navy single-breasted, crisp white shirt, black oxfords, probably a grey or silver tie.

But that’s too near business dress to be any fun these days. Men never get a chance to wear casual suits, linens, cotton and silk, let alone bright colours. So go wild and enjoy it when you can. Otherwise no one would wear checks or spectators.

My general opinions stated, let’s turn to the questions. Both KL and Peter are keen to go down the formal route without wearing black tie or tails. Good for them. KL has the right idea on dressing up the lounge suit, going for peak lapels and a double-breasted waistcoat. These are both great ideas, particularly if you will rarely wear them on any other occasion. Either navy or mid-grey, with either tie.

Peter is seeking more to put a personal spin on black tie. This can be done in a number of ways, including a shawl collar, double-breasted, even a velvet jacket. But if you’re going to do black tie, Peter, eschew coloured waistcoats. The jacket should have peak lapels and you need something to cover your waistband – cummerbund, waistcoat or double-breasted.

Or how about another suggestion Peter? An old-style stroller (above) – black, SB or DB, peaked lapel jacket in serge or cashmere. Pale grey trousers, white shirt, white handkerchief, Macclesfield tie, black shoes. Keep it monotone. It’ll looker smarter than what everyone else is wearing, but individual too.

An interview with Lorenzo Cifonelli

This is a guest post from the friends of Permanent Style, parisiangentleman.com

In 2003, you and your cousin Massimo took control of the family business after starting in the workshop in 1993. Have your customers changed over the years?

Of course. When I started my career in the family workshop, we were known as a classic, serious, discrete, almost confidential house. At that time most of our clients were 50-year olds who dressed in bespoke, whether because of family traditions of because of their body shape.

Back then, we made a lot of suits, but we had far fewer clients. For instance, we often made 10 or 15 suits for one single order. Nowadays, even though we still have a few very loyal clients that order several suits, our clientele is much more diverse in terms of age and income.

Who are these new clients?

They have been getting younger every year. They don’t choose bespoke out of necessity or because they can afford to, but because they want to. Unlike our traditional clientele, our new clients are around their 40s and only order a few pieces every year. However, they are much more demanding in terms of sartorial awareness and education.

Some guys in their 30s even come to us for their first bespoke suit. Very early on, these guys are trying to create their personal style and venture into bespoke very thoughtfully. Their demands in terms of style and customisation cannot be compared with what we saw in the 1990s.

Do you think this new clientele emerged from a natural market trend or was it triggered by Cifonelli being more open to a contemporary style?

There really is a trend for customisation and gentlemen are more and more aware of all aspects of personal style. However, I think that the decline in our clients’ average age has more to do with us becoming more open to bolder and more modern lines, and more aware of the new needs of modern gents.

When my cousin and I took the business, we started to travel a lot to expand our client base in Japan, the US and some European countries. Both of us were 35 at the time. At that age, you’re always more sensitive to trends and, most importantly, to the needs of your new clients. They are demanding, always on the go, and not willing to compromise on elegance, no matter how, when and where they were their suits. This is how we gradually modified the cut and the lines without touching the fundamental elements of our reputation.

Where does the Cifonelli line come from?

I think that the Cifonelli style is original because it was born out of the best elements of three sartorial traditions:
- Italian tradition of course, with a strong accent on style, flowing lines and softness (sometimes at the expense of quality of assembly)
- British tradition, with a military heritage that inspires its very structured design (at the possible expense of comfort)
- French tradition, including Claude Rousseau whose career ended with us and who contributes another aspect: precise detailing, quality finish, topstitching, arrowheads, buttonholes…

My grandfather was trained in cutting in England at the beginning of the century. Very quickly, he learned how to blend the British technique and his Italian sensitivity. Soon after he moved to France, he added a French touch to his style, and the Cifonelli signature style was born. By the way, we still take all measurements in inches.

Let’s get into details. Part of the Cifonelli signature is the shoulder. Karl Lagerfeld says he can recognise it 100 meters away.

It is true that the shoulder is very important to us and that ours is quite particular. It is very bold and forward, to streamline the silhouette without losing the masculine and manly aspect. To make this type of shoulder, we have to use our own construction technique, which we have been using for decades [the sleeve is felted wet with an iron before stitching].

Although it is our most famous hallmark, there is a lot more to the Cifonelli style. Our suits have a rather small chest, and the jackets are cut smaller at the front than at the back. The line is always our ultimate priority. It must streamline the body and be very masculine. Details and finish are equally important: we always stitch the buttonholes with Milanese rolled thread (difficult to use) and are quite particular about lapels: we position the notches quite high.

Right now our 35 workers [the largest bespoke team in France] on Rue Marbeuf make about 800 suits every year. We recently developed a line of very original sports jackets that has brought us to a completely new clientele that is more open to bolder pieces.

In 2007, you reopened the store below the bespoke workshop on Rue Marbeuf. It offers traditional ready-to-wear and made-to-measure. What prompted this decision?

The idea of renovating and reopening the store was simple: access a broader clientele and offer high-quality traditional pieces at good prices.

Even though it’s not bespoke, it is the same Cifonelli quality and the standards are just as high. We draft the patterns for suits and coats that are then assembled in Parma in an excellent traditional workshop. The close proximity of the boutique and bespoke workshop gives clients access to a wide array of fabrics and offers them alterations and finishing that meets our standards. So for about €2,000 euros they can get a quality suit and a taste of the Cifonelli experience.

We are seeing connections between the boutique and bespoke as well. Some clients move on to bespoke from our high end RTW. So there is a genuine consistency in the approach, even if the two client bases remain fairly different. It takes money to move up to bespoke but more importantly you need a lot of patience, a rare quality in the 21st century.

Buy handmade when it's worth it

The fascination with things being made by hand is odd. If I sew a button on by hand, chances are it will be done worse and not last as long as the best machine doing it. This is firstly because I am not very good at sewing on buttons; but secondly and more importantly, it is because a machine will sew more stitches to the inch, so it will be stronger.

Purchasers of fine clothes should ask themselves, when presented with something made by hand, whether that is necessarily an advantage. Seams that come under a lot of strain usually need to be strong above all else. The advantages of handmade construction are flexibility, movement and life; it adds stretch to the shoulder seam of a jacket and personality to the padding of its chest. But it is not always and necessarily better.

Equally, ask yourself whether the marginal difference made by hand construction is worth the money. I know that my tailor, for example, uses pre-made shoulder pads. Some of the Savile Row tailors make their own, by hand. Personally it’s something I am quite willing to save on. But I want to pay to have the chest made by hand.

I have also never understood people that want something to be flawed to prove that it is handmade – fluctuation in the hand-stitched lapel or a slight skew in the welt. To them imperfection is honesty. To me it is a fault. I want my individuality in the fit, the design and the wear. I don’t want to see evidence of the craft; I just want to benefit from it.

It’s true that no two items made by hand will ever be identical. As a bespoke shoemaker told me once “if I ever punched two medallions exactly the same I wouldn’t be a craftsman, I’d be a robot.” But, contrary to him, I don’t see a virtue in the slight looseness of one seam on a shoe’s counter. It bugs me and I want it changed.

The fact that he has lasted the shoe by hand is not something that can be seen. Its virtue is that he was able to adapt the natural leather and its personality when stretching it over the last. The attention to detail means it will wear better. That’s the kind of hand construction I want.

Buy handmade intelligently.

The story of Cifonelli

This is a guest post from the friends of Permanent Style, parisiangentleman.com

Legendary tailors Cifonelli have an exceptional story to tell. Unlike most of their peers around the world, the house was founded in 1880 yet remains entirely in the hands of its fourth generation, steering the company through its transformation from confidential bespoke workshop to luxury brand. The family has accomplished the feat of passing on its savoir-faire to each generation without giving in to luxury conglomerates. It has resisted the temptation to sell its famous name through mass distribution, unlike some British tailors.

Cifonelli has become one of the only bespoke houses in the world where you will always be greeted by a family member. Say hello to Lorenzo and Massimo, the fourth generation.

The house was founded by Giuseppe Cifonelli, who first set up his workshop in Rome. His son, Arturo, expanded the business and became the soul of the style and the artistry of Cifonelli. Arturo was sent by his father to London to be trained in the art of cutting at the very proper Minister’s Cutting Academy. His diploma is dearly held in the shop Rue Marbeuf (pictured below).

The Cifonelli style, a blend of British strictness and Italian lines mixed with something definitively French, was shaped and developed by Arturo in his first Paris workshop. One opened in 1926 on Rue Courcelles and the second, still standing at the center of Paris’s golden triangle, was inaugurated in 1936 at 31 Rue Marbeuf.

Slowly, Arturo began to gather a client base of demanding and elegant connoisseurs. His reputation built as more and more famous politicians and artists started wearing his suits. Arturo is often described as demanding, uncompromising and passionate. He is loved and feared by his workers who, legend has it, make the sign of the cross before sending him a suit for final inspection. If he didn’t like it, it would have to be cut all over again…

When Arturo died in 1972, his son Adriano took over and carried on developing his father’s work until the beginning of this century. The Cifonelli reputation slowly started to spread outside the small, stylish circle of men like Paul Meurisse, Lino Ventura, Marcello Mastroianni and, most importantly, François Mitterrand (whose Cifonelli collection was recently auctioned at Druot). Between 1992 and 2007, the Cifonellis also made all the bespoke suits of Hermes (1992-2007).

In the early nineties, Lorenzo (Adriano’s son) and Massimo (Lorenzo’s cousin) truly entered the business, after spending their youth around bundles of fabric, paper patterns embossed with luxury stamps, watching workers hand stitch utterly perfect Milanese buttonholes.

In 2003, the two cousins officially took control of the bespoke workshop rue Marbeuf. In 2007, they developed a made-to-measure and ready-to-wear storefront in line with the high tradition that they set up right below the original workshop.

At that time, two important events proved the Cifonelli commitment to perpetuating their sartorial expertise, as their heritage was put under threat by other labels and by an aging workforce.

The first of these occurred in 2000 when Cifonelli acquired Claude Rousseau’s workshop (and its workers). The second was the 2008 purchase of another famous Parisian tailor’s shop and staff, Gabriel Gonzalez. If you are familiar with the small world of French bespoke houses, you will understand the importance of these acquisitions, that successfully brought back together the legendary Camps de Luca team, 30 years later after its separation (when Mr Camps was at the helm). Back then, the team had Smalto, Rousseau and Gonzalez on board. Talk about a dream team!

Lorenzo credits Claude Rousseau, who has since retired, for teaching him the extreme art of detail and an obsessive care for finish. Gabriel Gonzalez (below) still works on Rue Marbeuf, as passionate as ever about tailoring despite being 72 years old.

Next: An interview with Lorenzo Cifonelli, about the Cifonelli style (and its famous shoulder), the renewed clientele, and development projects for Japan and the US.

Buying buttons for bespoke

Buttons are a subtle way to add personality to a suit, odd jacket or even overcoat. But it pays to keep them subtle.

It’s easy enough to sew on a suit button, though I recommend experimenting with something inexpensive first. Just make sure you secure the thread firmly – I normally sew twice in one direction on the same spot, then once at a right angle – and leave some slack so you can create a decent stalk. And tip the button to one side to pierce the cloth underneath without going all the way through. (The only time you really need to go right through is with the jigger button on a double-breasted, or with very heavy materials.)

The first time I sewed on my own buttons was with a navy overcoat from Hackett a couple of years ago. While I liked the cut and the herringbone cloth from Loro Piana, it needed something to give it character. So I replaced the navy buttons with cream horn ones – plenty of texture, lots of punch for the coat.

Now I am having more things made bespoke, I am selecting buttons rather than replacing them. With my past two suits and overcoat from Graham Browne, I have gone with plain navy or brown horn from the stock selection. With the latest commission (the ‘fishy’ suit) I decided to source my own.

For this I went to the excellent Duttons for Buttons in York, where I had also bought the cream ones for my Hackett overcoat. I am up there every couple of months visiting my in-laws so it is pretty convenient, and the selection is impressive.

The suit is a smart, single-button navy with jetted pockets and high-waisted trousers. The buttons therefore had to be smart as well without being showy. And as I needed two precise sizes for the waist button and the cuffs (30 and 24 line, or 15 and 19 millimetres in diameter) the choice came down to about eight or nine sets.

After a good hour of indecision, I went with black iridescent buttons that looked rather like dark mother-of-pearl. That was a mistake. Over Christmas I tried the buttons against several navy suits and decided they were too shiny, too silvery and too like blazer buttons in natural light.

So on December 28th, when Duttons opened again after Christmas, I went back and spent another 30 minutes examining dark, matte buttons, eventually picking some made from Mussel shells (pictured above). They are deeper and less shiny than my first choice, but actually have more surface interest and subtle variation between them.

So my (probably rather obvious) lessons from this experience are:

- Go for natural materials, shell or horn, where you can. Manmade textures are rarely as attractive and they’ll last better.

- Take the cloth or jacket with you. I thought I could picture the buttons easily against it in my head. I couldn’t.

- Be subtle, particularly on a suit. Or, as an alternative guideline, be as subtle as the item and its pattern. Overcoats and sports jackets, checks and tweeds can take more adventurous buttons.

Shirt facts upon request

Due to popular demand (well, three people) here are some more facts about how the Turnbull & Asser shirts are made up in Gloucester. I know how much you love those little details.

- As with a suit, the sleevehead of the shirt is slightly bigger than the armhole it has to go into. The excess has to be worked in by hand, pausing the sewing machine every couple of inches to rouche in a little bit. With a Turnbull & Asser shirt that excess is ¾ of an inch. That’s what all ready-to-wear shirts will have and bespoke has as standard. But it can be greater if a customer desires or the shirtmaker instructs – sometimes because the gentleman wears jackets with a higher armhole.

- The firm has patterns recorded for just over 15,000 clients. None are identical.

- To show where the buttons have to be sewn on, the placket is laid out horizontally and each point marked with a pin. They used to use pencil but the mark would occasionally remain. A pinhole can simply be rubbed away. With a bespoke shirt you can pick any number of buttons in any arrangement – nothing is automated. In particular, some men prefer their second button to be a touch lower – a compromise between leaving one and two buttons undone on a normal shirt.

- There are three sizes of button: main placket, collar fastener and button-down collar. The hole for the collar fastener is the same as for the other buttons on the placket; but the button is a touch smaller to make it easier to do up.

- ‘Bong’ refers to the button on the gauntlet.

- When the collar is completed, it is folded in half and then half again. When unfolded, there are three small fold marks that can be compared to the position of the back and shoulder seams on the body of the shirt. Making sure these points match up ensures that the collar is dead centre, so doesn’t twist or stand up more on one side than the other.

- There’s a wall of honour outside the main hall for all employees with more than 15 years’ service. My guide for the sewing, supervisor Kath Cope, has been at Turnbull & Asser for more than 40 years.

- The shell buttons that T&A uses (imported from Italy) are ground down five times to get the surface exactly right. And each hole has to be punched individually, because if all four were punched at once the button would shatter.

I hope that sated your appetite.

Sebastian & Jules cufflinks

I spend most of my working day sitting at a desk, typing. The comfort of shirts and size of armholes are therefore important. But I also need silent cufflinks.

Most of the time I wear French (or double) cuffs on my shirts, so they need to be fastened with something. That used to be variations on bar or chain cufflinks, always metal and usually quite loose. They clinked against the desktop. Even with a jacket on, they would often peek beyond the sleeve and clink.

So I switched to silk knots. Easy, cheap and available in an array of colours, they allowed me to experiment with colour combinations and clashes. Add cufflinks to tie, handkerchief, socks and shirt and the permutations are dizzying. Most importantly, they didn’t clink.

I do own three pairs of metal cufflinks. One, in silver, was given to me by friends on my 21st birthday. A second in mother-of-pearl was an engagement present. And the third pair, from Etro, has an unusually short bar and so does not clink.

But I occasionally get bored of silk knots and occasional metal links, usually worn on special occasions.

So I was glad to receive a birthday present this year from my friend Katherine: an unusual pair of homemade cufflinks. Essentially two buttons joined with silk thread, they look like oversize shirt buttons when worn on the cuff; but they’re more decorative than knots and if anything offer even more colour combinations. And of course, they don’t clink.

The company is called Sebastian & Jules and can be found at sebastianandjules.co.uk. Katherine makes the cufflinks (and rather nifty iPhone cases from tweeds and worsted suitings) in her spare time. It’s a cottage industry; except that she lives in a flat in East Dulwich.

I have the paint-fleck effect shell ones on page two of the site, the ones joined by hot fuschia silk. They look particularly effective on a white shirt under a navy suit. I also hanker after the pine and tortoiseshell.

I have a growing fascination with buttons (expect a piece soon on using mussel-shell buttons for my fishy suit), so these links are very much on-trend. I also think £15 is pretty reasonable for unique items that were entirely and painstakingly made by hand.

Nice to support a (for me, very) local producer.