Terrycloth blazer and a fish net shirt?

At Eden Roc on the blue Mediterranean

Esquire, August 1936: "One of the world's most fashionable swimming holes, Eden Roc at Cap d'Antibes, has no beach at all, just steps and all sorts of intricate plateaus that have been cut out of the rocks.

Against this background you see, reading from left to right, an Englishman and a Frenchman, modelling two types of Riviera beach outfits. The Englishman wears, over a polo shirt and knitted swimming trunks, a single-breasted notch lapel blazer of terrycloth with a muffler to match, light blue mohair crash beach slacks and a pair of Basque canvas espadrilles with rope soles.

The French man wears as Frenchmen do, a beret (an item that has lost most of its followers in this country), ribbed swimming trunks and the new fish net beach shirt with a crew neck which was first introduced at St Tropez. This shirt should be a natural where shirtless bathing is still prohibited, because it lets you tan and keep your shirt on."

Yikes. A blazer made of terrycloth and a fishnet shirt. I'll turn my eyes away from all of that and concentrate on the espadrilles. Because this past week I've been on holiday in Cadiz, on the beach, wearing my own, locally made blue espadrilles. Which is why your comments aren't getting approved quite as quickly as usual. At least I scheduled some posts in advance eh?

The reputation of Smith & Co

Following on from my note last week on the history of W Bill, here’s some information gleaned on the history of Smith Woollens. For many, including my tailor, Smith’s is a brand they swear by. Worsteds that are often a little bit pricier than their competitors but with a smooth finish that is instantly identifiable. The one bespoke suit I have in Smith’s cloth – a navy small-scale herringbone – backs that up, with a softness and handle that seems to be unrelated to any question of thread count or fineness.

Smith & Co was founded in 1921 by Herbert Smith and Claude Graham. After a few years Herbert Smith decided to pursue other interests and Claude Graham was left to build up a business which is now 89 years old.

The heart of the textile industry lay in Golden Square, London where Smith Woollens had a small warehouse and office. From very early, 1930, the company started exporting to Denmark, Sweden and Norway. In the forties the US became a big market, followed by Switzerland, Germany, Belgium, France and Italy. In the fifties South America, the Middle East and Japan were gradually added to the customer base.

In 1994, Smith Woollens acquired William Bill of Bond Street which, as we know from the previous post, is one of the oldest woollen merchanting businesses of all time, founded in 1846. It specialises in tweeds and cashmeres for jackets and topcoats and has traded extensively in Japan, Italy and the USA from 1945 onwards.

Despite changes in the industry that make many aspects of the cloth business uneconomic, Smith Woollens is still exporting fine materials the world over and is the last of the famous West End merchants to have not one but two cloth warehouses within 500 metres of Savile Row, where deliveries are made daily.

Smith’s supplies a lot of haute couture too, both men’s and women’s. Cloths have featured in the Balenciaga, Hermes, Yves St Laurent, Gucci, Hardy Amies and Stella McCartney collections. Unsurprisingly, Ralph Lauren and Paul Smith are also customers.

Recently, cloth has been supplied for James Bond films and the Harry Potter series, and many theatre costume designers source materials for their productions in London as well as throughout Europe.

Silk and cotton perhaps, rather than wool

On the beach with the sons of riches

Esquire, June 1935: "When the gilded playboys turn to bronze under the winter sun, that's when summer's beach fashions are born.

For example, these things which were prime at Nassau are now par for Nantucket and points thereabout. The seated figure shows a silk and wool beach shirt, worn with a pair of blue sailcloth beach shorts, with a pair of knitted trunks underneath. Note the twine belt and the white canvas espadrilles.

The standing figure wears what is almost a resort uniform, consisting of the perennial navy blue polo shirt, grey flannel slacks and black and white sports shoes. A white silk handkerchief is worn loosely knotted at the neck. A blue beret completes the kit. In the foreground you will notice a light-weight wool beach shirt and a pair of twine beach sandals with leather soles and heels. These, of course, are shown as alternative choices."

Impossible to imagine someone wearing a wool and silk T-shirt these days. But silk as an addition to linen or cotton should not be underestimated. It adds a nice handle and a coolness to the cloth.

Oh, and how does the narrator know the seated figure is wearing knitted trunks underneath his shorts? The tone of all the commentaries in Esquire implies that the narrator is seeing these images for the first time, without any extra information. Am I missing something in the texture of the guy's rump?

The history of W Bill

Dealing with representatives of one or two of the cloth manufacturers in England in the past few weeks, we got to chatting about the history of the various brands. Talking with guys at Graham Browne and Anderson & Sheppard furthered that interest, but there seemed to be rather little information on the history of two of my favourites – W Bill and Smith’s – out there. So here’s what I’ve found.

Unsurprisingly, it was founded by William Bill in 1846, in Chester Street, Mold. That may not sound like an attractive name for a town to non-Brits out there, but Mold’s a lovely part of Flintshire in North Wales. Originally the store sold welsh flannels and blankets, but when it moved to bigger premises in Tenby, the second William (Thomas) Bill introduced tweeds to the mix – now the brand’s most famous product.

The tweeds were a great novelty after the broadcloths, serges and flannels and smoothly woven cloths then generally used. In London, tweeds and shepherd’s checks had become immensely fashionable since the opening of the Scotch Warehouse. The younger Bill moved to London in 1892, initially establishing two premises – one for knitted garments and the other for cloth – before combining them on Great Portland Street.

Until 1988 the firm was run by descendents of William Bill. It provided wools and tweeds to the great and the good – Picasso had a jacket made from W Bill cloth and the firm supplied Shetland pullovers to both Sir Ernest Shackleton for the voyage to the Antartic in 1908 and to Sir Edmund Hilary for the first Everest expedition in 1953.

Brooks Brothers and other American brands began buying from W Bill in the twenties and thirties, leading to a healthy export business. The war years, 1939-1945, whilst bringing in more orders, proved increasingly difficult in the conduct of the business. The small staff at Great Portland Street dwindled and there was the constant danger of falling bombs in London, and the possibility of the whole warehouse going up in flames. But all through the war, the blackouts and the bombings, the shipments to America continued.

That paid off in the late forties and early fifties, when the Americans developed a love of cashmere. There were very strict regulations on its manufacture and sale, and W Bill was one of the companies licensed to sell to the export market. Many of the American servicemen returned home with cashmere sweaters.

A new export-only shop was opened in South Molton Street and eventually a despatch department in South Molton Lane under the management of Ray Hammett. Ray is still there today, curator of the vaults at W Bill on New Burlington Street (see post from Thomas Mahon here).

Growth, particularly in the US and further abroad, continued in the sixties and early seventies, but in 1975, the shop Gieves – next door to W Bill at 28 Old Bond Street was the first London building bombed by the IRA. It was the beginning of a downturn of American demand and business started to decline.

In 1988, due to this and rent increases, the directors reluctantly decided to sell the company. It was taken over by Betterware Consumer Products, but only lasted another four years. In 1994 it was taken over by Smith & Co, who run it today.

As Mr Mahon puts it, “they’re known in our business as THE tweed and cashmere specialists.” Still building on a reputation for quality that started with a small shop in Wales over 160 years ago.

Beautiful semi-bespoke boots from Rivolta

Back in October last year I was introduced to a new/old shoe brand called Rivolta. A Milanese name that goes back to the 1880s, it was forced to close down in the seventies, only to be restarted last year with an interesting twist – they proposed to use digital scanning of a man’s foot to produce personal lasts and one-off orders – effectively bespoke shoes. More details are in my original post.

Rivolta had been part of a European-wide experiment to use digital technology to create made-to-measure clothes efficiently and therefore spread their availability. The scanner is similar to that used in Lodger in the UK, though with more detailed analysis and obviously more reliance on the technology to create a perfect fit.

A few months after I had met the guys behind the brand in Milan, and written that first piece, they offered to make me a pair of shoes to show how the process worked. They normally cost around €1000 but only take a month or so to make because of the automation. It took a few months before I was back in Milan, and then a month or so to make the shoes, so I received them in April this year.

I opted for dress boots, half-brogued in a gingery suede. When they arrived I was pleasantly surprised by the aesthetics – many of the models in the catalogue and the shop can look old-fashioned: round-toed and perhaps a little clunky. But the boots were just beautiful. A very soft suede, wonderfully finished, with an extraordinarily butter-soft lining. Nice laces, nice packaging, nice touches like cross-hatching on the soles.

But the fit was not great. They were both short and narrow, pinching my little toes and crunching the ends of all of them. They just didn’t seem big enough – confirmed by comparing them to other great-fitting (though admittedly not bespoke) shoes. I struggled manfully on for a couple of days but they just weren’t wearable. I informed Silvia at Rivolta, who was puzzled but apologetic.

She kindly offered to try and either correct or remake them. I didn’t hold out hope of correcting them – it is almost impossible to add length to shoes, much easier to add width as the leather stretches more across and isn’t confined by the toe puff or heel stiffener. My hunch was correct – they needed to be remade and it would take another month or so. Silvia mentioned using a different algorithm to asses the scans of my feet (three separate ones had been taken for each foot, both sitting and standing up).

I got them back last week. The fit is much improved. My toes are no longer pressing against the end of the toe box, though it is perhaps a little narrow still, and across the joints it is tight rather than snug, but definitely wearable. Given the softness of the suede, I think the fit will be fine after a half-dozen outings. Using some slightly over-sized full-wood shoe trees will help too.

The boots are just as beautiful as ever. A gorgeous texture with grey suitings or jeans, with a fineness of finish that suggests old-fashioned models perhaps harking back to Rivolta’s beginnings. I’ve only ever felt such delicateness on women’s brogues, which are naturally smaller, or old examples of bespoke seen at Cleverley’s or at the museum in Northampton.

They’re not exactly bespoke, but I do love them.

How to wear brights in the summer

Coral at the courts

Esquire, February 1942: "While our friend intently watches the tennis exhibitions at Nassau, let us in turn gaze at him. The Bahamanian Coral shade of the slacks, worn in an authentic setting by this spectator, was inspired by the colour of a certain coral in this part of the world. They may be of linen, other washable or rayon-blend fabric. Such slacks need a neutraliser, and the smart choice here is the natural shade jacket with gilt buttons and centre-vented back.

A printed foulard handkerchief flutters from the chest pocket. His sandune and harbour blue knitted lisle pull-over is topped by a printed foulard scarf, and his Silver Palm hat carries the sandune puggree. The blue buckskin shoes with white welt and grey rubber soles happen to be favoured by the Duke of Windsor. That, plus the contrast with the sandune socks and Bahamanian Coral slacks make the shoes a good choice. They're comfortable, too."

Right, never going to wear coral but I do like cotton trousers in a strong blue from time to time, and the authors at Esquire make a good point about balancing or neutralising that strenth of hue. I'll skip past the sweater and scarf, just to say that I do like that hat. A nice casual alternative to a white Panama.

A lesson in linen scarves

inen scarves have been something of a revelation to me. I confess I’ve never invested much money in scarves in the past, but the nice ones I do have are all cashmere. There didn’t seem to be much of a choice really – scarves were either cashmere or wool, and both were too heavy to wear in the summer.

I was wrong, of course, but I could be forgiven for my error given that almost no one makes high-quality linen scarves anymore. Perhaps the selling proposition is just that little bit harder: “A scarf in the summer you say?” exclaims the puzzled punter, “next thing you’ll be selling me flannel shorts for the winter.”

But it’s only difficult to explain until you’ve worn one. Like the best summer fabrics – silk being another good example – linen is cool against the skin in warm weather, but provides greater warmth than you’d think when the temperature drops. So it’s perfect for leaving the house on a hot day, knowing you’ll be out after nightfall. Just wrap it a little tighter around the neck when the evening comes.

Drake’s has a fantastic a range linen scarves, which I'd highly recommend. But make sure you pay attention to the different blends and weights. My first purchase was a small, green gingham check in washed linen. A lovely piece of cloth and the colour was fantastic worn with browns and creams. But it was rather large – 70cm by 200cm.

It was referred to as ‘oversized’ and ‘extravagant’ in the description. So it was my own fault really: I didn’t read any of the text, let alone the numbers. The scarf is great, but my wife will wear it more than me. She’s not complaining. If only I could have contrived to present it as a present.

Determined to find my perfect linen scarf, I visited Drake’s during an open day to look at the rest of the scarves first hand. Immediately, I alighted upon a washed-indigo linen with a handblock print in cream and brown (pictured). Although the size was the same as the gingham, the linen was blended with modal (48%) and silk (9%) and lighter in weight. As a result, size was less of an issue: even doubled up it wasn’t as thick as the pure linen.

In the end, a very satisfying outcome – particularly as I bought the sale in the Drake’s summer sale, which is still ongoing – but I’ve learnt a lesson on sizes and cloths in scarves.

A lovely night at the Taylors'

Friday was the annual MTBA summer party (Master Tailors' Benevolent Association). It's one of two events every year that brings together all the tailoring fraternity and is consistently a great event (the other big gathering being the dinner just before Christmas).

The Merchant Taylors' Hall, where it is held, is a wonderful series of rooms around a stone courtyard dating back to 1347. It was particularly lovely this year, as the shelter and stone construction made it a cool place to spend a hot summer evening.

Sharing a few pictures of the night, at top is myself with Graham Browne cutters Dan (left) and Russell (right). Below are another Dan (left), a tailor at Anderson & Sheppard who received an MBTA certificate and Eric Musgrave (right), author of Sharp Suits and now director general of the UK Fashion & Textile Association. Bottom is myself, again, with Karl (centre), front of house at Anderson & Sheppard, and James (right), a coat cutter at A&S.




Photos courtesy of Andy Barnham, Savile Row Bespoke Association photographer for the evening

A light scarf at the end of a warm day

The court dress of the good American

Esquire, July 1935: "It may be different with debutante sisters and daughters, but as for the male of the American family, jubilee year or no, this is the only court dress he knows.

The players' costumes are self-explanatory. Of the two spectators shown in this scene, the younger is wearing the popular combination of single-breasted linen jacket and grey flannel slacks, distinctive touches to the general effect being afforded by the light-weight wool muffler of wine and white hound's-tooth checks and the diamond pattern light-weight hose. The hound's-tooth muffler is a prime fashion feature at the moment. The shoes are white elk with black saddle.

Jacket and trousers of brown and cream gabardine respectively, a pleated yellow shirt with starched collar. Indian madras bow tie, horizontal striped wool hose, brown reversed calf shoes and a wide brim Panama hat comprise the other outfit."

There's nothing like the end of a warm day, wearing linen and, as the temperature drops, winding a wide scarf around your neck. That's what I imagine the young man here is feeling. He's also deciding that the diamond socks and saddle shoes together were a step too far. His father agrees.

My Hermes scarves

I love my Hermes scarves. But in order for silk scarves to work as (slightly more) masculine accessories I think they need to be both dark and low on contrast.

Classic polka dots or stripes are different – they can get away with higher contrast, as can simple geometric patterns. For more elaborate designs the colour palette needs to be subtler. It’s a similar logic to tie patterns: bigger, illustrative figures like paisleys need restrained colours to avoid being brash. It’s one reason madders work so well – the matte quality of the treated silk can bear more flowery designs.

Such designs are not that easy to find at Hermes, despite the ample ranges they bring out every season. The sample book may be as deep as it is wide, but there are few subtle combinations in there. When there are muted options, the designs tend to very simple and, well, a little dull. The carriage logo, perhaps, or a geometric pattern of Hs. Not exactly inspiring compared to the Russian country scenes or intricate globes elsewhere. The Rhythm of China range this season is a case in point – there are subtle grey and beige options, but the pattern is geometric and dull.

The two scarves I own, shown here, are a couple of exceptions. Au Fil de l’Inde, the first design, is a classic blue with a subtle, winding design showing escalating sand dunes – all drawn with a single line. When tied at the neck, there is little obvious difference to a regular, linear pattern. Just a touch more interest.

The second, Brides de Gala, is a fairly classic Hermes design of equestrian equipment. But the dip dye technique makes the colours muted and the contrast low. Aubergine, navy and a dull gold. There’s no lack of interest but nothing jumps out at the eye. The current range of dip dye scarves offers nothing so understated.

I normally wear the scarves tied in a square knot under a round-necked sweater, or in a bigger, triangular wrap to fill the gap in a jacket. They can perform the role of a neckerchief or a proper scarf, but are more individual than both.

If anyone has any recommendations of designs that are still in circulation, please let me know.

Stuff a square-folded handkerchief

A white pocket handkerchief, like any element of a man's attire, is most elegant when it appears to be arranged nonchalently, casually. But that doesn't rule out a square fold.

A friend told me recently how he always stuffs in his white (linen) handkerchief points uppermost, in the morning and whever forced to use it. He folds it in half, stuffs in the middle and lets the points fall as they please. It is a relxed, degagé look.

But you can stuff a square fold too. People always assume that a square fold, where the handkerchief edges run across the top of the pocket rather than sticking out of it, has to be millimetre-perfect and razor sharp. Why?

Sure, that's how the arrangement was popularised, by TV presenters back in the 1950s and more recently by TV shows like Mad Men. But that isn't the only way to do it. Besides, a fold that sharp is so tough to achieve and then maintain. The geeky effort involved is there for everyone to see, on display.

Instead, I recommend just folding the handkerchief twice, or enough such that the width is less than that of the pocket, and stuffing it in square. It's something I see my friends at Kiton do all the time, and something I admire. You can see the effect in my two recent photos - of the A&S suit and the wedding shot too.

The corners do not remain perfectly aligned. They are caught by the friction of the pocket and wriggle into a random arrangement. As with a 'points' approach, you can tug at the corners as much as you want if you judge the look needs a little adjustment. Just don't make it look too perfect. Oh, and stuff it so the points are to the outside and at the front of the pocket.

Points can look just as studied as a square. And to my taste, points will always be a little dramatic.

Bunch of ruffians back in the 1930s

On the trail blazed by Bunny Austin

Esquire, August 1935: "White duck shorts, introduced by Bunny Austin, have been seen in increasing numbers at important tennis tournaments over the past two seasons. Without the famous little Englishman's sponsorship, it is doubtful that the fashion would have gone very far, but you may wear the outfit shown at left without qualm for its correctness in this usually tradition-bound sport.

The shirt was originally developed for squash, but has been borrowed for tennis. The shoes are the new blue canvas sneakers that have been taken up by many well-known professionals. The blue flannel blazer may be worn at the courts, and with white or grey flannels for general country usage.

The other and more typical tennis costume consists of a white light-weight wool polo shirt with short sleeves, worn with white flannel trousers, white sneakers and (a recent revival) the heavy white cable-stitch sweater."

OK, I was at Wimbledon this week and every player was basically dressed like the gentleman on the left: T-shirt, shorts, white socks and trainers. Except, hang on, the T-shirts at Wimbledon usually had colllars and the trainers were white. Standards today are so much higher than they were in the 1930s. Bunch of ruffians back then. Blue canvas indeed.