Gieves & Hawkes: The perfect travel blazer 1

John Durnin of Gieves & Hawkes does a lot of travelling, as I do myself. It was while discussing recent trips, and standing in the new Gieves Blazer Room, that we conceived the idea of creating the perfect travel blazer.

The plan is this. We will design, make and fit on me a travel blazer that we think ticks all the boxes for the kind of short business trips we end up going on. If we think the design successful, Gieves may end up including it as one of the options in its aforementioned Blazer Room.

The blazer will be two-button and single-breasted. It will be cut, however, to fasten with the lapel buttonhole under the chin. None of these flaps under the collar. Too fiddly and too uncomfortable.

The cloth will be a navy mid-weight hopsack, half lined with part of the lining to the forepart in the same cloth. This is a design aspect that some of the Gieves ready-made blazers have – and I saw on my Rubinacci jacket – and I think work well with casual cloths.

We considered fresco over hopsack. But while the former will keep its shape better when travelling, the key to all aspects of the design is flexibility – and fresco is too sharp in my view to go with jeans or khakis. We will probably make some grey trousers out of fresco instead, to highlight the cloth that way.

The jacket will have three patch pockets, flapped and buttoned so that valuables will not fall out if you put the jacket down (or up, in a plane’s overhead locker). To echo the shape of the flaps, the outbreast pocket will have a welt in the same proportion. The pockets will all have an inverse pleat in them, to enable them to take more stuff. At least one of the internal pockets will be zipped – but have that zip hidden by a flap of cloth.

One internal pocket will also be proportioned to an iPod or similar smartphone. While pockets can be cut too precisely to a wallet or phone, only for that item to change, small adjustments to the width and depth of a pocket can at least ensure the phone does not fall horizontally.

Perhaps most interestingly, the plan is for the blazer to have changeable buttons. I have had this on jackets before, with the buttons either separate and attached by their stalk to a circle of metal behind, that keeps them in place, or on either side of the stalk, so they are just swapped through the hole. The options will probably be brown horn and gold (or something similarly dressy).

Head cutter Kathryn Sargent and apprentice Richard Lawson will be cutting the jacket and trousers. More details on that next week.

Kent Haste & Lachter relocate

The paint isn't dry and Stephen is apparently fishing for salmon in the basement, but Kent Haste & Lachter have finally moved to their new premises, at 7 Sackville Street.

Next door to Meyer & Mortimer and where Fallan & Harvey used to be, the shop has a lovely long cutting area and some big, airy fitting rooms.

Stephen and Terry will be going to the US in a couple of weeks (Affinia Manhattan Hotel, New York, October 17-21), but John is around so do pop in and say hello.

More details on the much-esteemed trio here.

Cifonelli - Parisian powerhouse

From the latest issue of The Rake:

Cifonelli

Parisian tailors tend to be located on the first floor of big mansion blocks. Savile Row tailors are more likely to be on the ground floor of a terraced house, with workrooms underneath. Though certainly a generalisation, this is not an empty comparison. It means the French have more space.

Cifonelli, on Rue Marbeuf, has a small ready-to-wear shop on the ground floor. But upstairs is an expansive atrium, three large walls of cloth bolts, fitting cubicles and no fewer than seven different tailoring rooms. It is a maze of intense, bright spaces, filled with tailors – both young and old – surrounded by fittings and paper patterns. The last two are reached via the kitchen. Two tailors and an old cutter have just been taken on and the cutting rooms, across the hall, are being remodelled to fit in an extra board. Accommodating new staff, particularly those that have worked in their own small space for several years, is never easy. But everyone seems to find their place in this dense little warren.

Cifonelli is certainly the biggest of the Parisian tailors, but it is not unusual. Camps de Luca, Smalto and Stark are similarly housed, their names hung proudly right across the outside of their blocks. This space and size can give a tailor greater identity. But there is one more thing about Cifonelli that gives it a unique sense of purpose: all the tailors are employees. Most English tailors, and some French, pay their staff per item. While they have to prioritise their hosts’ work, they are strictly speaking freelance.

Having employees doesn’t make tailors any easier to manage. It just means you have to worry about slacking rather than quality. But for Cifonelli, it seems to have enabled them to innovate while retaining a definite identity.

Cousins Lorenzo and Massimo Cifonelli took over the running of the business from their uncle/father in 1999. Although founded in Rome in 1880, Cifonelli expanded to Paris in 1926 and quickly found a local following. By 1990, there was only one cutter left in Rome who quickly retired, so it was closed down. Paris, however, has expanded rapidly.

Which has been one route to innovation. As tailors and cutters joined the firm, they brought their own ideas of construction, organisation and style. They weren’t allowed to change anything unilaterally, but Lorenzo in particular was – still is – irrepressibly keen to learn and reform. He is a restless creative hub.

One of the early changes was in the way orders are managed. Lorenzo instituted a system whereby every basted suit is double checked before it goes for a fitting. All the parts are measured and then checked against the measurements that were taken when the order was made. Even those measurements themselves are unusual – few tailors measure a customer afresh when he comes in for a new suit.

Lorenzo also makes sure paper patterns are fastidiously altered with each new garment. Many tailors, despite their claims, do not do this. More than one of the great Savile Row names gets my basted fitting wrong in the same way every time. The right sleeve is always that half an inch too long, the shoulders a little too square. It’s a waste of a fitting.

Other innovations vary in size. Some are small: measuring the sleeve length with a pin in the shoulder, which slots onto the hole at the end of the tape measure. Much more accurate. Others are large: tweaking the Cifonelli style as the cousins gradually exert their tastes and personality. The Cifonelli shape was always distinct, with a small chest and lightly padded shoulders, but a large and often roped sleevehead. Lorenzo’s grandfather, who studied in London, called it a blend of the best Italian, French and English techniques. It certainly creates a very flattering, bold silhouette.

But Lorenzo has taken this and sprinted with it. The roping on the shoulder, for instance, varies considerably by cloth and customer. A conservative business suit gains personality with just a touch of wadding at the top of the sleeve. A dandyish overcoat, on the other hand, can have exaggerated shoulders, a tiny waist and a sweeping skirt, creating a garment suited to those that favour dramatic entrances (and stormy exits).

Then there are the little details. In recent years Lorenzo’s experiments seemed to have centred around touches of leather or suede – on the underside of the collar, the interior of flared cuffs, the top of pockets or as a fastening on the breast pocket. But they have also taken in subtler details, like the deliberate overlap of the pleat down the back of a belted Norfolk jacket. Or the diagonal hip pockets finished with beautifully hand-sewn triangles at either end. Frog fastenings, bellows pockets, elbow patches: as the models here illustrate, Lorenzo has unique takes on them all. And that’s without getting to the untreated wool he’s peddling for winter (see cream-coloured jacket opposite).

But none of this is to ignore the skills of pure, plain tailoring. Indeed, a description of my first bespoke order from Cifonelli probably serves to illustrate all of the qualities listed so far.

It was in a green Harris tweed, which Lorenzo was wearing as a suit when I first met him. Not being quite as adventurous, I limited it to a jacket. While some of his designs aren’t to my taste, a survey unearthed at least four things I did like: a five-button front that fastens to the chin, suede undercollar and undercuff, those diagonal pockets, and suede fastening on the outbreast pocket.

Because I was only in Paris for the day, Lorenzo dug up a few lengths of flannel and created a basted fitting within the hour. With just this to go on, he sent me the finished jacket a month later. When we met up for this interview, I brought the jacket along so he could judge the fit: it was perfect. In part due to his rigorous measuring and monitoring, we didn’t have to change a thing.

Last of all, the tailoring. I have yet to meet a tailor who isn’t awed by the attention to detail on this jacket. The buttonholes on the lapel and cuffs are beautifully finished on both sides, as either could be shown outwards – even on the suede cuff, which requires a special, sharpened needle. The hand stitching around the lining is incredibly fine, and is even used to join the panels of the lining. In fact, that join is finished with a signature C for Cifonelli in the small of the back.

Such workmanship, creativity and character inevitably warms the blood. So I hope you will forgive such obviously partial praise. Just take a wander around the first floor of 31 Rue Marbeuf next time you are in Paris – round the seven rooms, past the sink and through the sound of thirty tailors talking – and see it for yourself.

English Cut and Thomas Mahon: made to measure

During a recent conversation with Thomas Mahon of English Cut, I was interested to hear about the made-to-measure service that he is launching in India. The tailors he has hired and trained are among those that suffered from the tsunami in south Asia. The video shows part of this process.

While this is a nice touch, what is more likely to be a priority for the sartorially inclined is how the suits are made. The answer is, entirely by hand. Everything from the padding of the chest to the insertion of the armholes – much of which you can see in the video.

The cutting, too. Tom, tailor Paul Griffith and India head Mahesh Ranakrishnan have spent a lot of time training the new recruits to cut in an English drape style: small armholes, soft shoulders and plenty of cloth in the chest. Same English cloths too – that’s a W Bill in the video.

The suits start at £1400 for a two-piece and are delivered in five to six weeks. Orders can be made with Tom up at the house in Cumbria or at his new home-away-from-home, 11 George Street (just around the top of Savile Row).

Now in theory there’s no difference between having your tailors based in India or Soho. As long as they’re good and require little management, the presumably less frequent visits are not an issue. Kilgour ran a service with its suits being partially made in China, saving hundreds on the final price. But bespoke customers might be more concerned about having the cutting done remotely. (Kilgour was cut in London.)

This is what makes the English Cut offering more made-to-measure than bespoke. Thomas has worked out a series of standard models and sizes in what he considers his cut, much as anyone does that puts their designs into large-scale manufacture. These 38, 40 and 42-inch patterns are then altered according to the measurements that are sent out from England.

This is the same process all made-to-measure companies use. Except that they then make the suit by machine, while English Cut will make it all by hand. Despite this difference, it’s good to see that Thomas is willing to call it made to measure, where some companies that make far inferior suits use the term bespoke. He is in good company: Ralph Lauren refuses to call his Purple Label made-to-measure service bespoke, despite the high quality and prices of the product. He has too much fondness for Savile Row.

Good luck to English Cut MTM. More details on Tom’s blog here.

Thom Sweeny: settling in nicely

I first met Thom Whiddett and Luke Sweeney through a very dashing friend of mine, JC. That’s him modelling Thom Sweeney tailoring, above. I can see why JC likes the style; it is very him: sharp, sleek, close and with a readiness for experimentation. Lapels are often high; a signature piece is the U-shaped waistcoat with a deep drop in the front (pictured top). Their look is contemporary and has received a lot of deserved attention.

Having now been a few times to see Thom and Luke, the thing that stays with me is their attractive little shop. First, it’s about 20 yards from Bond Street tube station – if you use the right exit. Which is convenient. Second, it is decorated with great taste and a clear fondness for iconic photography. You can tell it used to be an art gallery. And third, most importantly, I feel it is going through a pleasant process of growing into itself.

On the ground floor are two showrooms, a fitting room and Thom’s board (above). Downstairs is another board and four or five tailors – the usual mix of trendy apprentices and a master tailor of southern European extraction, who has worked for them all. Up a winding staircase are Thom and Luke’s offices, which are in the process of being refurbished to create more space and accommodate another cutting board.

It doesn’t yet have the worn-in elegance of Timothy Everest’s atelier in Shoreditch (where Thom and Luke used to work), or the rock n’ roll edge of Tom Baker’s backroom in Soho. But it has personality and promise – and very few new-build tailor shops achieve that.

PEN magazine: Permanent Style big in Japan

 

You could never refer to yourself as a style icon. But if someone else gives you the title, it's alright to pass it on, right?

Seriously, I was highly flattered to be asked to appear in the latest issue of PEN magazine, which I am told by those who travel more than I do is one of the best-respected menswear magazines in the country, particularly concerning craft. The feature was on style icons from London, New York, Paris and Milan, and I'm pleased to say one of the others in the article was the very stylish Nick Wooster, ex-men's fashion director for Neiman Marcus and Bergdorf Goodman.

As per usual there are several things I should have pushed the stylist on, like making sure the cardigan wasn't off centre in the top image, not popping the collar in the larger image below and not posing me so awkwardly in the DB suit. But overall I was pleased. I think the Anderson & Sheppard suit in particular demonstrates the advantages of a drape cut - you can see the shape it gives to the chest.

Top image: Suit by Choppin & Lodge, shirt by Kiton, cardigan by Cifonelli, handkerchief by Simonnot Godard and shoes by Berluti.

Bottom, larger image: Jacket by Cifonelli, sweater by Trunk, silk scarf by Hermes, trousers by Incotex and shoes by Edward Green.

Bottom smaller image: Suit by Anderson & Sheppard, shirt by Turnbull & Asser, tie by Isaia, handkerchief by Rubinacci and shoes by Cleverley.

Accessories, from top: Lock & Co fedora, Berluti wallet and vintage crocodile card case, Permanent Style cufflinks, Alfred Dunhill doctor's case.

Going tieless; Hemingway Tailors suit

Without a tie, men lose the biggest opportunity to express themselves easily in colour and pattern. But I don’t like wearing a tie every day either. The key if you’re not going to wear a tie is to add accents elsewhere, such as in a pocket handkerchief and a sweater. It’s often only with the second addition, such as with that knitwear, coloured socks or an unexpected shoe, that you really compensate for the central absence of the tie.

The suit is from Toby Luper at Hemingway Tailors. It has the strongest shoulders I’ve ever had in a suit, achieved not so much from extra padding as from the cut, chest canvas and strong roping in the shoulder. The roping is about ⅝ of an inch in width.

It’s fair to say this is Toby’s normal style – though he is not a cutter himself, rather a travelling tailor using Cheshire Bespoke to make his suits. I find it interesting how much influence a tailor like Toby has on the style and cut of suits made elsewhere though. His trousers really deserve the attention in this suit; as with previous pairs, they are the best cut of any I own. The sculpted line into the lower back is just perfect.

I may yet have the shoulders altered. But continuing the thoughts of a previous post on sloping shoulders, it’s interesting to see perhaps the most extreme way of dealing with them – cutting a near right angle around the circular shoulder line. I’ll wear it in for a while and see how it feels.

French navy flannel suit, Hemingway Tailors; white polo shirt, Kiton; grey sleeveless sweater, Loro Piana; brown suede shoes, Edward Green; royal blue linen handkerchief, Pochette Square.

US shoemaker tours

It's time for US tours again. Doesn't time fly?

The full dates for two makers - Cleverley and Alfred Sargent Handgrade - can be seen on their sites at those links. And pictured we have some new styles from Sargents, awaiting nervously to be paraded around the United States. Pendle above and Benson below.

As per usual in New York, Leffot is the centre of the action, and along with these full tours Gaziano & Girling will be at Leffot on October 12 and Edward Green on October 27.

Belgian slippers from A Suitable Wardrobe

I love my Tod’s driving shoes. For two years now I have worn them every evening when I return from work and they’ve only improved with age. This has been considerably helped by the fact that I don’t wear them outside – like some of the more ignorant financiers of the City – and so the heels have not been destroyed. They’ve also been treated to shoe cream a few times.

So it was going to take a lot for me to take to another house shoe. The Belgian slippers pictured, from A Suitable Wardrobe, look likely to achieve that, going on the two weeks’ wear they’ve had so far. They deserve to be called a house shoe, however, rather than a slipper.

The Belgians have a lot more structure: a leather lining, a thin leather sole and a small heel. This makes them wearable outside for short periods – to get the paper from the corner shop, for example – where I really shouldn’t use the driving shoes. I fancy they may also be useful for travel. Driving shoes cannot be walked around airports for very long, and when they get to the other end they are less useful for popping down to the hotel bar.

That structure makes them a little less comfortable without socks than the Tod’s, and that is one reason why I shall continue to think of the latter as more slippers than house shoes. But I’m glad of both. As I have two small children (almost 1 and almost 4), I spend a lot of time indoors, playing, feeding and tidying up, where fully structured Oxfords are neither comfortable nor practical.

Will, who runs A Suitable Wardrobe, also deserves a word for his client service. Online shopping frequently falls down when it comes to how things fit. Sending things back is a pain, frequently costly and often not included in the price. Apparently one reason Mr Porter shipping costs £10 a time is that women frequently order several sizes and send the ones that don’t fit back (they are collected for free). Personally I’d rather have a cheaper postage charge.

Will will send a second pair of shoes out if the first ones don’t fit, and repeat if necessary, with no charge for either the new pair or the return. I made the mistake of ordering a 42, when I really needed a 43. They were swapped without fuss.

Henry Poole and Aston Martin – innovative pockets

The inside pockets of a jacket can be fairly dull. I went through a phase of having the inbreast pockets made to perfectly fit my wallet (which is rather long) and my iPhone (which is rather narrow and short). But I never seemed to put the right one in the right pocket. And then I got a new wallet.

Although of relatively narrow application, this was one of the reasons I was interested in a collaboration between Henry Poole and Aston Martin to produce an old-fashioned driving suit. It is to be worn by Aston Martin designer Marek Reichman at the Goodwood Revival this weekend and is based on an old model worn by racing driver Nick Cussons in 1969 (above).

The inside pockets are all cut to fit: a series of spark plugs, separated by leather dividers (apparently it’s always the first thing that goes); a tyre pressure gauge; spanners; and an oily rag. Each is fixed by a leather flap with the Aston Martin logo embossed on it.

Although it may seem impractical to have them in a jacket, rather than just a bag in the next seat, Marek has already driven in the suit and says this way they are much quicker and easier to access. And time is of the essence in a race.

As you might expect, the jacket has an action back to make it more comfortable to drive. The breeches are cut to allow enough room to work the pedals. And the waistcoat is cut off square so nothing sits in the lap when driving. The tweed is a Porter & Harding grey with brown Prince of Wales check.

Quite a nice little get-up, I thought. Below: Marek, Nick and Poole's Simon Cundey.

 

Photography: Lara Platman

Graham Browne in Sweden!

Cutter Russell Howarth of Graham Browne will be doing his first trip abroad, to Stockholm of all places, in October.

The explanation is that Russell and Dan have been working with Gaziano & Girling shoemaker Daniel - a big reader of Permanent Style - and Daniel is Swedish. So Russell is going to Stockholm to do a fitting, in the Gaziano & Girling showroom, and is open to anyone else that wants to make an appointment while he is there.

Russell will be available October 8 and 9, Saturday and Sunday. To make an appointment or for more information, email info@grahambrowne.co.uk.

For any info on Graham Browne, just search the blog. You'll find plenty.

Hermès: The bags

It’s not surprising that, given the focus on Hermès over the past week, I’ve had questions about what man’s bags they have and where they can be obtained.

Hermès bags are often made in small quantities because of the difficulty in sourcing precise leathers. There is, however, a good range out there – and while stock varies from store to store, it is always worth asking staff what else is coming in soon and what other nearby stores have available.

The range varies from canvas tote bags at the cheaper end to the Haut à Courroies saddle bag (top). This latter is a favourite of mine. The first bag Hermès ever made, it was designed to carry a full riding saddle and would usually have been carried open.

It is now a great weekender bag, and has been redesigned slightly to reduce its weight. The leather lining didn’t matter so much when you had a full leather saddle inside, but it is more important for weekend trips. So a thinner and foamed Togo leather is used, a canvas herringbone lining and aluminium hardware. This new version is called the Helium, after the ultralight chemical element (£7440).

The other bag I would point readers towards is the new Sac a Depeches (pictured above, £4400). This is a very simple workbag in calfskin, but with all the Hermès details that lend sophistication – the wonderfully finished edges, as we explored in the first post in this series, and the balance of the whole. In fact, a concertina structure like this is particularly hard to make by hand, because if the balance between the folds is just a little bit off then the bag will not stand up straight. It’s a nice way to test a bag.

Both are deliberately only available in quite masculine colours: the Haut à Courroies in tan and charcoal; the Sac a Depeches in ebony and charcoal. The matte calfskin of the latter has the added advantage that it will scratch and age quickly, giving it a very aged, gentlemanly quality.

Also worth a mention is the Polochon Voyage (£5400, below), an old archive piece from the 1930s that was reissued in 2010. In evergrain calfskin, it is a new addition for Autumn/Winter. If you thought the other models were extravagant, this is essentially a sports bag, but made with the same miniscule attention to detail. It is also made inside out, like some versions of the Kelly handbag, before being reversed. So some of that lovely stitching is on the inside.

Rugby Ralph Lauren and the Tweed Run NYC

Apparently I'm now a pin-up for Ralph Lauren Rugby, and its sponsorship of the Tweed Run in New York.

Click on the site here and scroll down to the photos from past events at the bottom.

Pochette Square: Good and bad handkerchiefs

There is an increasing number of websites selling good men’s accessories today. But while they are nearly all better than the bog-standard fare we had to put up with on the high street for years, the quality does vary. A new French site (why are they all French - Dandy Store, Chaussettes Rouges etc?) is a case in point.

Pochette Square, launched just two months ago, offers a good range of handkerchiefs at decent prices (€25-€45). While the ‘trendy’ half of the collection is unlikely to appeal to anyone reading this blog, the ‘chic’ side has a good range of basics in silk and linen mixes with some original patterns thrown in.

Having seen a few of them, I can speak to the quality of the materials. The linen and linen/cotton mix both have a good handle. The silk, though, is perhaps not the best: the printing loses something in the detail.

There is similar variety in the construction. The ‘Thin White Line’ model that I saw had hand-rolled edges – the minimum you would demand in a high-quality handkerchief – while ‘Purple Rain’ did not. It was a good machine imitation of hand rolling, with the same swelled-edge effect, but it was not made entirely by hand. I am told that this is reflected in the price – the former is €45 and the latter €30.

It is also fair to say that the size is not ideal. They measure 13 inches to a side, where the best hanks would be 16 or 17 inches. Helps them stand up in the pocket.

So a welcome and original entrant to the market (did you see the rabbit tail one? Apparently it’s the best seller) but with variable quality.

Hermès: Interiew, Claire Marie

Claire Marie is the artisan in the Bond Street branch of Hermès. It is her job to make alterations and repairs to client’s belts, bags and other leather accessories. As reported in a previous post in this series, she is also a proficient bag maker herself. Permanent Style quizzes her on the Hermès training and why she enjoys working in the London store after her Paris workshop experience.

How long have you been at Hermès?

Five and a half years. Before that I was studying bookbinding and book restoration in Paris. I designed book covers for limited editions as well, creating mosaics on leather for example.

Do you miss working with books?

I do a little, yes. I’ve thought about suggesting that Hermès starts making leather book bindings. But this is also a reason I like working as an artisan here in London – it means I get to see old Hermès products rather than just make new ones. You see different models, many of which aren’t produced any more, and take them apart slowly, examining the construction. In that way it’s similar to book restoration.

Do any particular bags stick in your mind?

Yes, there was one bag recently brought in that belonged to the Charlie Chaplin family. A small handbag from the 1930s, it needed a few stitches repairing and a general refurb and repolish, but it was in very good condition.

Why did you decide to come and work for Hermès?

While I was studying I met a guy who used to be a saddle maker there. He gave me the idea, and it appealed because Hermès is the best company to work for as a leather worker, as well as a great preserver of arts and crafts.

What did the training involve?

It was 13 months in a school in Paris. The training can be longer, up to 18 months, depending on your experience, but everyone needs to have a qualification in working with leather already. At the time there were around 30 people in the school with me; now they have smaller classes. The teachers are known as ‘godfathers’ and we had around four students to each godfather.

Was it tough?

Absolutely. In the first week you do nothing but learn how to manipulate and look after your tools. Then you work on maintaining a good posture when working, before you begin saddle stitching long lines in leather. They deliberately make you start with the most difficult leather – box calf, which is very hard and scratches easily. But it's the best school to achieve the level of expectation we aim at in this House, no other one gives so much attention to details.

When do you move on to making bags?

When you’re confident working straight lines, you begin trying to make a Kelly handle. Again, it’s deliberately the hardest thing to do, with at least five layers of leather in the middle. You can easily spend two or three months just getting that process right. The next stage is making a full Kelly that is stitched on the outside – some are stitched inside and have to turned inside out once they have been made.

What is most difficult about making these bags?

Part of it is simple organisation. There are so many parts to the bag, that have to be put together in exactly the right way and the right balance for the whole to work perfectly. That first bag can take you 50 or 60 hours to make. Then you move on to different bags and different leathers.

Did you move around in Paris once you had finished training?

Yes. The first year I specialised in men’s bags and travel bags. Then later I moved to a different workshop that did men’s bags and clutches, such as the Constance or Kelly clutch. One particular highlight was being part of the four-person team that made the first Kelly flat. Designed by Jean-Paul Gaultier, it was a version of the Kelly in very smooth leather that flattened out and could be worn as a clutch.

And then you applied to move to London?

Yes, I liked the idea of working with older, vintage models and dealing more directly with customers. There are about 15 people working as expats in this way, outside France and I think it’s a great service. I particularly like stamping initials on iconic bags – it’s a rather emotional experience, producing something that will become part of a family story.

Photography: Andy Barnham (who else?)

Hermès: Trying the saddle stitch

As mentioned in the first part of this Hermès series, artisan Claire Marie was kind enough to allow me to try stitching part of the clochette that she was making. As with previous attempts at being hands-on, it of course all went wrong.

It’s easy to watch demonstrations of stitching or cutting and think that the act itself is not that difficult. What is hard is maintaining concentration as the act is repeated, and making small adjustments as the surface of the leather, silk or worsted changes.

That is probably true when one is trained and the fundamental processes of your craft have become virtually automatic. But it takes a long time to get there. Under Hermès training in Paris, everyone has a qualification in leather working when they join but still spends a whole month just learning about their tools, and the next few weeks just repeating the kind of saddle stitching I attempted here.

The saddle stitch, as explained in the previous post, requires two needles to pass through the same hole, with an awl first piercing that hole and guiding the first needle through. It is this process of guiding the needle back that proved tricky for me.

The temptation is to bend your head down and look at the underside of the leather, to see where the needle has to go. But if you do this every time it takes too long and is very hard on the back. Pushing the needle and pulling the awl at the same time is not, however, very intuitive.

I think I managed it on the fifth or sixth attempt. By that point I was sweating and my teeth were gritted. It felt like a minor milestone. Claire was kind, saying it was more difficult than it looked and that the pincer that holds the leather was clearly the wrong size for me.

I think I’ll stick to writing, and appreciating leather from afar.

Photography: Andy Barnham

Hermès: how leather goods are made

This week is Hermès week. There will be a series of pieces, based around the ‘expat artisan’ that sits in the Bond Street store, making repairs, embossing products and generally giving advice. Her name is Claire, and over the years she has done many such services for me, including monogramming my much-loved Ulysses notebook and advising on the altering of belts.

Hermès has long been the only designer brand I have any time for, due to its fanatical craftsmanship and support of artisan production across France. Some other French brands – notably Chanel – perform a similar role, but not in the areas that closest to my heart: leather and silk.

And I think the presence of craftsmen working in the stores – not for show, but performing useful jobs for customers – is one small demonstration of the Hermès attitude.

In this first post Claire (top) will demonstrate the work that goes into Hermès leather goods by making a simple clochette – the bell-shaped leather case that hangs from a bag and protects its keys.

The first stage is to shave down the edges of the hourglass-like piece of leather using a small paring knife. This will create a flat surface for the glue to adhere to and, later, for the stitches.

The edges are then painted with a dye that is specific to the colour of the clochette, both to help preserve the leather and aid the aesthetic finish. Next, a long heated iron with a grooved head is used to score a line around the edge of the leather (below) – after being wiped down on a leather mat to remove any traces of previous dyes. And a second iron, with a flat head and heated to a higher temperature, is pressed along the dyed edges to smooth them and help the dye penetrate. Lastly, the edges are polished with a strip of sandpaper.

The number of layers of dye depends on the thickness and type of leather. This clochette made from a grained calf will require two. Other skins such as goat and crocodile require more, while thick edges like the top edge of some handbags (which can be made of up to eight layers of leather) can require nine or ten layers.

Wax is applied to the edges and melted on with the flat-headed iron, to seal and waterproof them. A rag with wax already on it is also rubbed along the edges, the friction of which melts its wax onto the surface.

The clochette is then glued together. Here a contact glue is used, a stronger version that is usually used in repairs. When such pieces are made in the workshops they use ‘aquagum’ – water-based glue. The edges are then hammered to ensure flat and even contact.

When the glue is dry, stitching can begin. This is a saddle stitch, involving two needles looping around each other – the same technique used on the welts of bespoke shoes and on handmade luggage. It is stronger and yet more flexible than any stitch a machine can work, and cannot be replicated by a machine because its needle cannot change direction.

As readers will know from previous posts on Cleverley shoes and Alfred Dunhill luggage, this stitch uses an awl to pierce the leather and then help draw the opposing needle through the hole. Claire has two awls with her here. Indeed, such is the volume of equipment required for such work that she usually needs about 70 different pieces when she travels to give demonstrations.

Biggest but perhaps most personal among those pieces is the sewing pincer. This long tweezer-shaped piece of wood is held between the legs and grips the leather. It is made specifically for the artisan, as its length is crucial to remaining comfortable while stitching in this position.

Even threading the needle is interesting. It pierces the waxed linen thread a couple of times, wrapping the resultant loops around the needle, before inserting the end through the eye and pulling up those loops up over the top. This creates a very strong knot.

Rather like watching bespoke shoes being made or a jacket being basted, this process leaves you feeling exhausted and admiring of the work that goes into such a small leather product. And of course makes you want to buy one (they are used on men’s bags as well).

Next posts: Hermès training in Paris, the men’s bags, and I fail spectacularly at saddle stitching. 

Photography: Andy Barnham

The White Briefs: The underwear project

A few weeks ago I began a project to search out the best underwear made anywhere in the world. Obviously, given the focus of Permanent Style, the focus would be on both quality, including materials and construction, and style.

The first is fairly objective and can be analysed quite easily – though with this project it will have the added benefit of testing, with several wears and washes used to determine comfort over time. The second is more personal, but I will express my preferences and the advantages of different styles, to help inform personal choices.

The brands so far included in this project are Zimmerli, Sunspel, Schiesser and The White Briefs. This list has been put together based on conversations with stockists in the industry. If anyone has any suggestions to add to it, they are welcome.

In this first post, The White Briefs. Started by husband-and-wife team Peter and Henriette Simonsson in Sweden, the company began two years ago as a project to make the perfect pair of white briefs. The range has since expanded, but the ethos remains.

One advantage of coming to the idea fresh like this is that Peter and Henriette could take time to pick and choose the best cotton from one source (here, Peru), the best knitters to make the cloth (Switzerland) and the best factory to put them together (Estonia). Underwear is normally a vertically integrated process. This is cheaper and quicker, but lacks choice and flexibility.

Indeed, the industry as a whole is – I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear – a high-volume and high-margin business, driven by marketing and brand identification, with little attention to detail as a result. In that way, all these producers I've highlighted stand out from the logo-driven mainstream. The White Briefs is slightly different from the rest of them in its independent starting point.

The important thing about picking the cotton and how it will be woven is balance in weight and feel, says Peter: “Heavier cottons are sometimes more comfortable and always more durable, but of course they are less flexible. So it took a while to get what we thought was the perfect balance there.”

The easiest way to give a cotton durability and ensure it retains its shape is to add Lycra, but Peter dismissed this: “Lycra is plastic. It is wearing plastic against the skin. Objectively it is always going to be less breathable, and personally I think it leads to a feeling of being trapped. Good underwear should make you feel free.”

There is, however, some lycra in the binding (the strips along the edges) as this has to have some stretch and that's impossible without it.

The other aspect of the construction is the waistband, the rib for which Peter spent a long time getting right. “The sizing is important, you don’t want it to be too tight but then it has to stay in place as well – the height of the rise is also crucial, as with a good trouser.” As with the rest of the production, the waistband had to be unbranded, simple and sophisticated in design.

Underwear takes a surprising amount of engineering. T-shirts, which are all about the cotton and the cut, are easier. Peter has found this as he has expanded the collection, into different models of underwear and other white basics.

The first underwear model was the Platan – a basic, simple brief with relatively long sides. The next was my favourite, the Elm (pictured), which Peter describes as a sixties-style trunk – halfway between a boxer and a brief. Although the shape is much like a short trunk, the sides are a little higher up the thigh, which makes them more comfortable as your quadriceps arch higher up on the outside of the leg than on the inside.

The last model was the Willow, which is a trunk longer in the leg, indeed a couple of inches longer than others on the market. “The key there was to get underneath the thigh muscle, so that it keeps the hem in place and they don’t ride up as you wear them.” That rang true for me – it’s one reason I dislike a lot of trunk-style underwear.

So how has the Elm worn? Very well, so far. The difference the quality cotton makes to comfort is surprising – though I confess I never really spent much money on underwear before. After each wash it seems like it could have lost shape, but disproves that as soon as it is worn. If I have any criticism of the Elm, it would be that the inside leg could be a tad shorter. Occasionally the little that is there can ride up.

It is also worth mentioning that all the cotton used is organic. This doesn’t make any difference to the comfort, but green values are important to Peter and Henriette. And the range is expanding soon to include some models in pima cotton, again from Peru (as most of it is).

I did also try The White Briefs' collaboration with Fantastic Man in mesh cotton, which is as wonderfully breathable as it promises to be, but isn't really to my taste.

Look out for the next installments in the series.