Naples, Kiton: shirts

I mentioned in my previous post on the Kiton factory outside Naples that the shirt manufacturing impressed me post. In fact, it wasn’t so much the manufacturing operation as the handwork that resulted – something you can see on any Kiton shirt in a brand/outlet near you.

Only two things on the shirt are done by sewing machine. These are the edges of the collars and cuffs (so as to be cleaner) and the side seams up the body and sleeves (to be stronger).

Even on the side seams, however, machine stitching is followed by handwork. The latter is so that the shirt body can move more easily, and is less likely to permanently stretch, while the former is merely a back up to keep the parts together. Most shirts use two lines of machine stitching on the side seams (T&A’s certainly do). This creates a hard little ridge of cloth that should be less comfortable than a hand-sewn edge.

The bottom of the shirt is all finished by hand, delicately turned over like a hand-rolled handkerchief. The cuff is attached by hand, gradually easing in the fullness of the sleeve (though some are also folded in pleats, if the customer or store prefers). The sleeve is similarly attached.

Whether these make any difference to the comfort of the shirt is hard to tell. I couldn’t help buying one myself, and it did feel lovely, but that may just be the flyaway cotton it was made from. I equally cannot judge the longevity of the seams.

But one obvious benefit is the hand-sewing of the collar, which is upturned and fastened with a pin, before the tailor sews it onto the shirt in a circle. In much the same way as a collar being sewn onto a bespoke jacket, this means the shirt collar retains its shape even when unbuttoned. It is less likely to collapse beneath that bespoke jacket when you wear it (and this I can attest to).

Other interesting details are that Kiton uses no interlining down the placket of its shirt, which is actually cheaper but makes it lighter to wear. That placket is basted back onto the shirt by hand. All the buttonholes are sewn by hand, which seems like an awful lot of effort to someone used to closely examining the buttonholes on his suits. The buttons are also sewn on by hand, using the ‘chicken foot’ or three-pointed technique to demonstrate this.

And finally the collar is an interesting mix of fused and floating construction, with a light, floating canvas throughout for comfort but fused sections at both ends to keep them sharper.

Many Neapolitan shirts include hand sewing, where English shirts at the same price would not. Borrelli shirts are a good example, and very good value for the amount of handwork they require. So Kiton is not alone.

But Kiton is the only shirtmaker to include all these steps, and is constantly aiming to innovate. Sebastiano, the head of Kiton’s shirts and in fact a scion of the Borrelli family, is a fantastic example of this.

While I was at the factory Sebastiano, Riccardo (Renzi, London store manager) and I discussed many new points and models. One I particularly liked, being made for the anniversary of Italy’s unification, was a very lightweight shirt made in a long-sleeve polo style. Somehow there was just enough room to get the shirt over the shoulders, while remaining narrow at the waist.

Here’s to a wonderful shirt maker.

Photos: Andy Barnham

Naples, E Marinella - made to measure tie

It’s easy to be fussy about ties; they are such flimsy things. One can become obsessive about getting the length right, or fiddle with the knot throughout the day. The latter, of course, undermines any impression of easy style. A perfect dimple, equally, can suggest a little too much thought and preparation.

The width and length of the tie, on the other hand, are easier to control and can reduce the need for fiddling. Being 6’1’’, standard ties are often too short for me. They are usually 146cm to 148cm and as such fall above my waistband when the two blades are the same length. There are exceptions, including Charvet and Kiton, which are regularly over 154cm.

I have had a couple of ties made to measure, including one from Will’s stock of Capelli samples on the ASW store. That green wool tie with a navy stripe was lovely, but there are few silks that take my fancy and that is what I’m after.

I was interested, therefore, to meet Maurizio Marinella while in Naples last week and try one of his made-to-measure seven fold ties. They will have this service available in the new London store, but not until the winter at least.

The shop front is famously tiny, but up a flight of stone steps is a much larger premise that holds the full range of Marinella-branded merchandise: umbrellas, perfumes, even swimming trunks. Personally, only the multi-fold ties – those made just above the shop – are of any attraction. Standard stock now includes both seven and nine folds, though the nines are only folded as such for the bottom of the tie, covering most of the front blade.

The stock of silk squares available was large, though dominated by navy with assorted patterns – unsurprising really for Italy. That was fine, because a good navy tie was what I was after, with a regular, abstract pattern spread wide enough to not clash with a Bengal-striped shirt. Having brown in there somewhere was a bonus, given how many brown accessories and shoes I wear.

I ordered the tie to be slightly wider at the end of the blade but, more importantly, to also be wider in the bottle neck. This is the centre of the tie, where it narrows, and determines the length of the knot. My favourite ties – Charvet, and some wider models made for other brands by Drake’s – have a substantially longer knot.

Michael Drake tells me that this style is more American, apparently favoured to sit better down the gap formed by a button-down collar. I can’t say I’ve ever noticed the difference, but Michael has far more experience than I.

The tie will be ready this week apparently, and sent to London. Presumably the closeness of the manufacturing helps with that quick turnaround. The small difference in price – †180 rather than the normal †160 for a seven fold – must also be affected that proximity.

Report back next week.

Naples, Kiton: suit pictures

Not for the first time, the inimitable Andy Barnham has ridden to my rescue. Below, the pictures of the suit making process at Kiton in Naples that I discussed in my previous post, but lacked images for. These are taken from a previous trip Andy did. Enjoy

Cutting

Basting to canvas

Attaching collar

Trimming collar

Suits waiting patiently

Checking and hand sewing

Cutting button holes

Naples, Kiton: suits

My most extensive visit while in Naples this week was around Kiton’s factory, which is just outside the city. It is a big, well-aired facility that serves a frankly cracking lunch. I’ve never had mozzarella like it. All of the hundreds of staff eat the same food in the same hall overlooking the main suitmaking floor (above), which is peopled by cutters at one end, 10 presses down one side and little clusters of men and women sewing by hand and chatting amiably.

Not that everything is done by hand. Obviously things like side seams on jacket and trousers are done at least initially by sewing machine, as they are at any tailor. But in an interesting switch in priorities, every suit is cut by hand yet most are padded by machine.

The cutters receive a docket for every suit, and cut each individually even if it means the same thing 20 times in a row. The factory currently has 13 cutters. They then pass on the pieces to be checked and have their linings and internal structure attached. The chest pieces are very light, a mix of linen and horsehair, but have all been sewn together in advance.

The exception is the K-50 or Lasa (laboratorio sartoriale), which makes up a small proportion of production but will receive greater emphasis from this Autumn/Winter season. With Lasa, everything is cut, padded and made by a single tailor. No paper or plastic pattern is used. Next season’s catalogue proudly names the 10 tailors that have been selected from the hundreds at Kiton to do just this work.

The switch of priorities from padding to cutting and finishing is all the more striking when you see the handwork going on elsewhere. There are about 10 groups of tailors, each comprising 8-12 people, arranged around low, square tables and doing one particular process by hand. One cuts and sews on the pockets; one cuts, constructs and sews on the collars; three full tables are dedicated to attaching the sleeves, easing between 2 and 2.5 times as much sleeve into the scye; two tables just sew the buttonholes.

You could argue there is less need for hand padding with the lightweight cloths and canvas Kiton uses. I’m not sure I’d agree. But either way, there are distinct advantages to cutting each suit by hand. It makes the Kiton system very flexible, with made to measure orders easy to incorporate and the managers of individual shops able to order specific cuts or constructions that they think will best suit their local customers.

Riccardo Renzi, for example, a good friend and the London manager, plans to have all suits for his store shifted to a ratio of 2.5 sleeve to scye from next season onwards. He also has all ties for London made slightly longer (ties are also all cut individually), at around 150cm rather than a standard 146cm. He also knows the man that does the chest and shoulders for all his suits – the code for London, 786, is etched in biro on that tailor’s wooden workbench – so he can ensure they have the light construction he prefers.

Ciro Paone, the founder of Kiton, is frequently quoted by staff and management. In describing his approach to the workforce, family members (and therefore management) at lunch said his philosophy was “nothing should be rigid and driven by targets, you could stitch, smoke a cigarette, stitch, drink a coffee”. Of course, smoking is no longer allowed inside, but the relaxed and artisanal air still pervades the air in what should not really be called a factory.

For pictures of the suit process, see post here.

In future posts: shirts, shoes and ties. Shirts I found the most impressive and different from anything produced in the UK or US. Shoes are an interesting mix of English benchmade and bespoke.

Rubinacci cashmere jacket 5: Naples

I was in Naples this week, to see Kiton, Rubinacci, Marinella, Attolini and Tavarico among others. It was a wonderful if sweltering way to learn more about Neapolitan style and tailoring. Serves me right for going in July.

First off, my second fitting at Rubinacci. The atelier upstairs of the Rubinacci shop is a hive of tailors and cutters – over 30 according to Mariano, making it the biggest such operation in Italy to his knowledge. They are separated into seven rooms, behind the shop and up a flight of delightfully cool stone steps. One room is dedicated to trouser making, one to shirts (those these are largely made on other premises) and one to finishing.

You can see various pictures from the workrooms here. It was good to hear that several of those pictured are apprentices, many of them apparently inspired by Luca – and presumably his colour-mixing glamour – to enter the world of tailoring.

Andrea (top) and Gennaro (above), master tailors, fitted the jacket alongside Mariano. Having decided that it needed more room across the chest and in the back, as well as a higher collar, Andrea ripped apart the jacket for me and marked it up for re-cutting. The chalk marks are where the edges, and therefore the basted stitching, will move to.

Nothing reinforces the impressive nature of tailoring than watching someone like Andrea re-mark the various pieces of a jacket, knowing in his mind’s eye how this jigsaw will sit better on my back.

Rubinacci tends to do three fittings on a new customer, but there is no real forward fitting. This stage, though still very unfinished, did include the pockets, canvas and lining where the previous one had not. Mariano described it as the most technical fitting, where the first looks purely at balance, both left and right and forward and back, as well as the impact that has on length. The next fitting will be pretty much finished, with only small changes expected.

 Basting

 Trousers

 Shirts

More details on aspects of Rubinacci, including the vintage store, vintage cloth rolls and some lovely old models, in another post.

Five tips on trousers

1. Jeans are great. But wearing them every day is boring. Most importantly, you will never let out the stylish man that lies within if you always wear jeans. Get some variety.

The jeans that you do wear should be a raw denim, starting indigo dark and relaxing into true blue as you wear them, imprinting your own creases and folds. They are like good shoes, and indeed most good clothes. They improve as they are worn and become more personal.


2. The waist can be altered. When you try on a pair of trousers, it is instinctive to buy the pair that fits on the waist. But it’s easier to alter the waist than the drop, thigh line or anything else. So make sure the trousers are right everywhere else, and then get the waist altered if you have to. This includes jeans – I don’t care what the denim heads say about the chain stitch. Don’t get raw denim altered until after it’s been worn and washed, though.

3. The other pair of trousers you want is grey flannels (pictured top). Suit trousers, by which you mean worsted wool, are too smart to work casually. They are smooth and sharp for a reason. Chinos, or khakis, are a straight alternative to jeans: just as casual, workmanlike and performing the same role in a off-duty wardrobe.

When you want something smarter than your old jeans, go for grey flannels. They can be cut slim, with turn-ups, a low waist, flat front and a flapped rear pocket. In that guise they go with fitted T-shirts as well as Oxford button-downs. They go with any knitwear you own. Go out and buy a pair, or have some made.

4. Trousers take a lot less time and skill to make than a jacket. Yet they will often be a third of the price from a bespoke tailor. So buy them off the peg and get them altered (waist, length, narrowing leg), have them made to measure, or go to a cheaper tailor.

5. A beginner’s wardrobe should contain: indigo jeans, grey flannels, cream chinos and brown moleskins. Then branch out into white cotton trousers (not jeans), khakis in earthy colours, and corduroy (to avoid associations with your grandfather, see fit details in point three).

Only at that point should you flirt with linen, gabardine and bright colours. The latter, in particular, require a mastery of accessories and buckets of attitude to pull off. You may well have developed those two during the previous, seven-stage trouser journey.

Kent Haste & Lachter in The Rake

The latest issue of The Rake includes a longer feature than Permanent Style readers will have seen on Kent, Haste & Lachter:

 

The joker of the pack


Legendary cutter John Kent, now joined by Terry Haste and Stephen Lachter in a new establishment, is not one to miss a chance for a joke. Just don’t forget your trousers


Simon Crompton


No one could accuse John Kent or Stephen Lachter of taking themselves too seriously. Within a few minutes of entering their new premises on New Burlington Street, you can guarantee to have fun poked at you, them, their customers, their tailors or – most importantly – their suits. Never trust a cutter who says he’s the only one in London that can make a good suit. He’s lying.

“You didn’t want it to fit, did you?” asks John, on receiving my order for a two-piece grey herringbone suit. “You’ll be lucky if it’s got two arms,” chips in Stephen.

One of John’s favourite gags is to bring out a suit for a fitting that is clearly three sizes too big. He puts it on the customer carefully, stands back and then sucks in his breath. “Well, it’s not bad really is it?” he’ll say, head tilted to one side.

John tried this on a French customer once who stood there quietly for several minutes, just pinching the cloth occasionally with his fingers. John walked around him, pretending to assess the fit, as the customer made little noises of confusion and puzzlement. “Eventually I had to admit my mistake and end it,” says John. “It was just cruel.”

Another stock gag is to ask the customer to get dressed again after a fitting, but not give him back his trousers. They look mystified when the customer insists he came into the shop wearing trousers.

Of course, you have to pick the right customer. Some men are unlikely to enjoy the joke and, more importantly, are unlikely to join in the spirit of it. To those, the newly established house of Kent, Haste and Lachter is merely one’s obedient servant. (Terry Haste, ex-Huntsman cutter, is the third arm of the trio.)

But, where possible, it is a pleasure to establish a rapport with one’s tailor. And John’s tongue-in-cheek approach seems a reaction against the pomposity and self-promotion that weaves through much of the tailoring trade. There’s nothing worse than a tailor who won’t admit he’s made a mistake, in order to save face.

Make no mistake about it, though, John Kent is a very good cutter. He began at Hawes & Curtis back in 1963, when they made tailoring as well as shirts – originally in different premises in fact. He has cut for Bing Crosby and Lord Mountbatten, as well as holding the royal warrant for the Duke of Edinburgh.

Stephen Lachter, shirtmaker, shares John’s sense of humour, and that has to be one of the reasons they have been together so long. Both were at Hawes in the seventies; Stephen was briefly a director at Tie Rack, but joined John in Stafford Street (where Kashket’s is today) in the late eighties. They shared premises at Norton & Sons, until John was taken ill a few years ago.

In 2010 they joined Terry Haste, again an old colleague from Hawes, to set up on New Burlington Street – previously Denman & Goddard. Terry had taken over as head cutter at Hawes when John left, then joined Tommy Nutter before going to Hackett to launch its bespoke offering, and more recently cutting at Huntsman.

They all have their favourite stories, but my favourites include Bing Crosby, who signed every one of John Kent’s golf club covers (they were leather back then) with warm wishes that got shorter and shorter as he made his way through the set. When Bing stepped outside the Hawes shop he was greeted with shouts of recognition from the builders on the scaffolding opposite. They scrambled down and surrounded him, pulling out sandwich bags and scraps of paper to sign.

“I was terrified for him. He was only 5’7’’ at the best of times and there he was, in his seventies by now, surrounded by these six-foot navvies,” remember Kent. “I had to get in there. But when I did, he was loving it. He was chatting happily away, and afterwards he walked away down the street, whistling to himself – just like he would do as I was fitting him.”

Frank Sinatra, as well, whom Stephen Lachter was sent round to measure up with strict instructions not to mention the name of a certain shirt maker. (Apparently the Jermyn Street institution had ambushed Mr Sinatra with a pack of photographers when he came for a fitting. Old Blue Eyes was not amused.)

There’s Lucian Freud, who paid for services in paintings. Only a lucky few hung on to the works – not, unfortunately, Messrs Kent or Lachter. And of course the Duke of Edinburgh. On meeting John at a royal occasion the Duke apparently proclaimed with a mock frown: “What the hell are you doing here?” At the recent Master Tailors Benevolent Association annual dinner, John proudly showed me a pair of tartan trousers he had had made out of a section of house cloth the Duke had given him. The whole length had been carefully sewn by hand along its edges, to prevent any chance of fraying.

Both John and Stephen enjoy clothes, and retain a fascination for what others are doing and producing. Two overcoats, cut for me by City tailors Graham Browne, received particular attention while I was coming in to have this grey suit made. One, a polo coat, has a pleat running from the middle of the back that was fastened with an adjustable half belt. The other, a large-scale herringbone from Bateman & Ogden, features reverse pleats in each of the side seams. The interest in these innovative designs was genuine and unaffected.

Stephen has quiet taste that was described to me by Norton & Sons owner Patrick Grant as “subtly sophisticated dressing”. John, meanwhile, has a passion for the beautiful bespoke shoes made for him by Eric Cook. They make what he describes as “my big fat feet” look very elegant.

The problem is, John loves the pitched heel so much that all ready-to-wear shoes have been ruined. “They look like blocks of wood compared to the sculpted look of a bespoke heel,” he says. “It looks so natural, the way the heel continues the line of the heel cup above.”

You can see this passion for the aesthetic in the way John fits a suit. At every stage he is anxious to combine the cutter’s natural skill for fit with personal flair in the execution of the design. This grey suit, for instance, was originally to have a two-button front. But the waist button ended up being dropped so low that the lower button looked unnecessary. We reverted to one, making a feature of the large, mussel-shell button.

The trousers, too, were cut as narrow as possible while remaining comfortable and classic of style, while the edges were highlighted with a lap seam – an old-school dress look that leaves a lap of cloth running all the way down the side seam. John points out with pride, too, how the side straps finish with a point perfectly sat on the waistband’s seam. And don’t even get him started on the handwork a good pair of trousers should have.

John, in the end, is a traditionalist. And he’s happy to mix his Eric Cook shoes with Marks & Spencer’s trousers and a ‘two-tone’ tie that has faded a little from being in the window, because he’s confident the customers he knows, serves and likes understand how much traditional practice is valued, without any need for solemn salesmanship or preening pretense. And, surprise surprise, the suits do fit.

The restless Lorenzo Cifonelli

I was in Paris last week visiting Cifonelli for an article to appear in The Rake. It was good to spend some more time with Lorenzo hearing about the history of the firm and his grandfather’s move to Paris (below). But what impresses me every time I meet Lorenzo is his restless urge to invent and to improve. You’ll never hear him say that Cifonelli does something because it’s always been done that way. Everything is constantly reassessed.

 

One small example was a method to measure the length of a sleeve. Every cutter I’ve ever seen just presses one end of the tape measure to the sleevehead and pulls it down to the wrist. An alternative is to stick a needle at the exact point where the sleevehead joins the shoulder and slip the tape measure onto it – many tapes have a hole in the end for this reason. It is more precise and less likely to slip, if a little more fussy.

Another example is the double checking that Lorenzo forces everyone to do on each basted suit. Before it goes for a fitting, everything is measured and checked against the measurements taken when the order was made, just to be sure. Paper patterns are also fastidiously altered with each garment (which many tailors don’t do, despite their claims – my right sleeve is always long by the same amount).

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that the tweed jacket that Lorenzo made me fits as well, if not better, than anything else – and all he had was one basted fitting, with a scrap of the wrong cloth. Indeed, Monday was the first time he had seen it on me, and we decided nothing needed to be changed.

Cifonelli’s clean, close fit through the chest and waist, coupled with a soft but roped shoulder, has been developed by Lorenzo and his cousin in the 12 years since they took over the business. Lorenzo has also been keen to experiment with design, coming up with different pockets, trims and fastenings. Much of it admittedly isn’t to my taste. But I still found a couple of original ideas that I liked and included on the tweed jacket. I admire the consistent creativity.

Different ways to pad the chest of a suit

A reader commented that the way he spots a good bespoke suit is to look under the lapel and look for the little pinpricks that betray hand padding. This does indeed show where the tailor has come through the suit cloth as he sews the parts of the chest together. But not every bespoke tailor thinks this is a good idea.

As my recent series on Henry Poole demonstrated, its tailors do wonderful work in padding the chest by hand, but use a machine for the lapels (James, from Poole, is pictured above). The sewing machine works a special padding stitch: a loose loop that is joined to its neighbour by a long connecting thread. Poole says that these loops do the same job as padding by hand but make it easier to control the tension in the lapel. And that tension is crucial – it determines how much the lapel will roll when not fastened to the top set of buttons.

Many other tailors disagree, using hand padding on the lapel as well as the chest. Examples that I have seen being made for me include Anderson & Sheppard and Cifonelli. There is no question of cutting corners here. Both sets of tailors are aiming for the same thing – control of the tension in the lapel – but believe their method is superior.

Tailors at the lower end of the scale disagree in different ways. Graham Browne, being a lower-priced, City tailor, uses tailors that pad half of the chest by machine and half by hand. But some of those only pad the centre of the chest by hand, others spend their time on the top half up to the shoulder, and still others emphasise the importance of the lapel. When the budget restricts what time can be spent on handwork, they all have different priorities.

(A small number of GB’s tailors do the whole chest by machine, but only for business customers who want a clean look more in keeping with ready to wear.)

Many tailors agree that little is lost if some parts of the suit are made by machine – such as the trouser seams or the jacket lining – but it is interesting to the see the points where many still disagree.

Lunch with Michael Skinner, Dege & Skinner

 

Last Friday Michael Skinner, the wonderfully warm master cutter and chairman of Dege & Skinner, was kind enough to invite me and a handful of others to lunch at the Merchant Taylors. The occasion was the launch of Michael’s book, The Savile Row Cutter, which has been written as a conversation with artist Hormazd Narielwalla (pictured below, left).

 

Covering Michael’s life in tailoring, beginning when he joined the family firm in 1952 as a fresh-faced 18-year-old, it discusses the cutters that he has trained and the characters he has come up against. It also includes some great pictures, including a specially requested plate of the Princes William and Harry in their Blues & Royals dress uniform.

Although I have yet to read the book, and will write a full review when I have done so, it looks like a great insight into the Row – particularly the first couple of decades that few but Michael now remember. Fortunately, given the recent growth in popularity of tailoring, more publishers are becoming confident in commissioning works like this that will broaden the common knowledge of the Row and preserve its great stories.

The book is available on Amazon and elsewhere from next month, priced £25. Thank you for lunch, Michael.

New Cleverleys - imitation brogue

Despite the welcome growth of the dark brown shoe as a business staple, every man should own a very nice pair of black Oxfords. They are worn to the formal events, to the big meetings and to meet people whose ideas on propriety you are not yet familiar with. Consideration is as much a compliment as dressing well.

I have one nice pair of black Oxfords from Cleverley, but they were not made for me. They were bought in a sale of pairs that had been ordered and never collected. So lovely as the make is, they do not fit like a bespoke shoe.

They are also, as you can see from the previous post, in the traditional Cleverley ‘suspiciously square’ style, rather than the longer, Anthony Cleverley toe shape, which I opted for with my first bespoke pair and definitely prefer.

So in a dangerous escalation of tastes and budget, I commissioned my second pair of Cleverley shoes. The shape is the same as the first, but it is a black, imitation brogue.

The ‘imitation’ refers to the fact that the first line of broguing – the wing tip – is achieved by perforating the same piece of the upper rather than adding an overlapping layer. It was inspired by seeing a similar pair that Anthony Cleverley himself made, and now sits in the Cleverley window. It was donated by a client of Anthony’s to achieve sales just like this one.

An imitation brogue reduces the bulk at the front of the shoe and, it could be argued, better suits such a slim last shape. Others might consider it a little flash, but then it is not as flash as the alternative that I turned down – Cleverley’s signature slip-on with the elastic gussets and fake laces. With a first pair of black bespoke shoes, it seems best to stay safe.

The fit with this second pair has been tweaked slightly. Not in the last itself, but by refraining from tightening the upper as we did at the fitting stage with the first pair. In retrospect I think this made the shoe a little too tight across the joints. 

In other Cleverley news, the firm has started working with Rolls Royce and Bentley in Beverly Hills to offer buyers of either car a specially designed driving slipper (below), which Cleverley will then monogram. I suppose if you're spending that much on a car, what's the addition of a pair of slippers?

On fudging

Fudging is the addition of ridges to the welt of the shoe (that little strip you can see running around the outside of your nice Oxfords). Shoe makers and manufacturers have fudging wheels, which imprint ridges along the edge.

On most shoes it is merely decorative. It used to be how bespoke shoemakers marked out where their stitches would fall on the welt, when they stitched that welt to the sole. And it lends that impression of detailed work to benchmade shoes today. The welt is broken up and adds a different aspect of decoration to the shoe.

Better ready-to-wear shoemakers often use a finer fudging wheel as well. In a recent conversation with Deborah Carre, bespoke shoemaker in residence along with James Ducker at Gieves & Hawkes, she pointed out that my crocodile shoes from Lodger have particularly fine fudging, which is rather appropriate for the quality of the skin.

Interestingly, bespoke shoemakers still use the fudging wheel but don’t necessarily follow the marks it lays out. They usually have several, from fine to rather broadly spaced, which correspond to the density of stitching that best suits the shoe. But sometimes they will want to give the impression of fine stitching even when the leather they’re using suits fewer stitches – this is an aesthetic judgment more than anything else. It is certainly not cutting any corners.

Nevertheless, it is one way in which the name of the technique is appropriate, as bespoke shoemakers ‘fudge’ the number of stitches to the inch.

(Pictured: close-up on the welt of an Edward Green 'Malvern')

Five tips on shirts and ties

The combination of suit, shirt and tie that a man selects in the morning is certainly not the most important thing about what he wears. That would be the quality and fit of the articles themselves. But picking good combinations remains the thing men find it hardest to master – probably because they have such little experience of aesthetic creativity elsewhere.

1. Pattern
Stick to two patterns across your suit, shirt and tie. A pinstripe suit and a polka-dot tie need a plain shirt as background. A striped shirt needs a plain tie or one with a much bigger, bolder pattern. When two patterns sit next to each other, they should differ in size and preferably style: small stripes, big spots; big check, muted paisley.

Using this rule on scale, or density of pattern can enable you to combine three or even four patterns (with the addition of a pocket handkerchief). But stick with two to start with, even one.

2. Texture
Or even none. Again, perhaps not to start with. But the more you play with patterns, the more you will realise texture is just as important. A tie can be satin, printed, woven or knitted silk – that’s a lot of variation in texture, without even going into other materials. By varying your tie and your suit (worsted, flannel, tweed, linen) you can create a lot of interest and variety.

Try restraining yourself to one pattern, and experimenting with texture elsewhere. Then try with none and see how many combinations you can create.

3.Colour
Here start with the simple, classic combination of navy and grey. It may seem boring but it’s worth starting from the ground up, relearning the things you think you know.

Classic clothes of all sorts are dominated by navy and grey for a reason – they look smart, they look sophisticated and they suit you. Navy suit, grey tie; grey suit, navy tie; you can come up with the pattern and texture variations yourself. Then throw in dark red, dark green and dark purple. Keep it dark, keep it classic, but learn which shades of green bring out the best of grey flannel, and how deep purple has to be to sit well with true navy.

Only then move onto the more countrified colours: burnt orange, browns and bright primaries. They need a lot more support in the rest of the outfit, and sophistication to be used well.

4. Harmony
Harmony means that nothing stands out. This does not mean that the clothes have to be dull. Far from it. It just lowers the level of contrast. You can have a royal blue suit, green patterned tie and orange thing going on with the pocket square, but as long as they are all as wild as each other, harmony is achievable. In the more sober business world, it means not just wearing a bright, ‘fun’ tie. If you want colour and pattern, fine, but let it creep into your suit or pocket square, rather than just your tie.

5. Copy others
I remember Patrick Grant at Norton & Sons used to do this obsessively when he first took over the business. Running a Savile Row tailor for the first time, not sure of your own taste but confronted with that of others every day – it’s no wonder he took notes. Suit, shirt, tie, hankie, socks, shoes, everything. He started classic and then learnt from others. Now he’s in the best dressed lists.

The same applies with your colleagues and others you see walking down the street. Just make sure you note the whole outfit, rather than one thing. I have a beautiful lime-green Hermès tie that I was inspired to buy when I saw a gentleman wearing something similar. But it needs a plain blue shirt, dark suit and a touch of harmonious colour elsewhere to work well.

It is fun, picking out combinations.

(Pictured top: A Norton & Sons ensemble featuring a rather sophisticated run of similar textures, with one pop of silk and pattern.)

Choppin & Lodge cotton suit

A cotton suit, or at least jacket, should be a staple of casual summer wear.

Cotton is often derided by fans of bespoke because it has no drape and wears out quicker than other fabrics. But the issue of drape – how the cloth falls across your body – is really one for more formal clothing. All cottons, whether corduroy, gabardine or moleskin of any weight, have too much body to drape, and so does suede, leather or any other material used for casual jackets.

Cotton certainly wears out quicker than wool or linen, despite costing roughly the same to have made bespoke, but a cotton jacket should have a lived-in feel. This is one of its charms. It softens and moulds in a very different way to canvassed worsted or flannel.

In an age when men frequently where their worsted suit jackets with casual trousers (no!), have negative associations with linen and tweed, and don’t know much about the other choices, cotton is a good option. Particularly gabardine, as shown here, which has a smoother finish applied to it, or a cashmere/cotton mix made up into corduroy or similar cloth. Zegna makes some lovely examples. 

This navy garbardine suit is being made by Choppin & Lodge, an old tailoring name that has been resurrected by Richard Wainwright (pictured) and Paul Wilkinson. Both working as visiting tailors previously, and currently with premises below Graham Browne in the City, it’s fair to say Richard and Paul add a certain dash to the style of bespoke suits. While perfectly capable of making a good solid business suit, they have more of a penchant for colour and soft tailoring. My other commission from them is a navy topcoat – but in luxurious vicuña and lined in Pongees silk. Some of this taste comes from Richard’s background, which is as front of house at Huntsman, Gieves & Hawkes and Chester Barrie.

My suit will have patch pockets, little canvassing in the chest and minimal shoulder pads. Richard ripped off one layer of the standard pre-made pads to show me how they would reduce them (see below). It will be half lined and, in line with that penchant for flair, use a houndstooth shirt cloth for the lining. 

Choppin & Lodge’s quality of make is on a par with Graham Browne, and indeed Russell is cutting some suits for them at the moment. This suit cost £875, but more standard commissions can be less.

A cotton suit isn’t for everyone. In navy, I think it is a nice subtle change in texture and preferable to navy linen. But everyone should consider a cotton jacket.