Henri Urban pockets, Sartoria Vergallo

These are shots from the inside of an old jacket made by the French bespoke tailor Henri Urban. A customer of Gianni at Sartoria Vergallo brought it in to show him and to see if he could copy the design, particularly the embroidered initials. I photographed it last year while in Varese visiting Gianni.

The 45-degree slant on the three in-breast pockets is interesting. It’s more practical, in one respect, in that this is the angle you naturally put your hand into jacket. Some cycling and motorcycling jackets have their hip pockets cut in a similar way, because the angle is exaggerated when you’re bent over either machine.

On the other hand, it is not that practical in terms of storing large or particularly long objects. My full-length wallet would butt up against the side seams and, when packed with stuff, would form a bulge on the outside less easily disguised within the drape.

The inside hip pocket (below), again with embroidery showing the name of the tailor, is in line with innovations produced by French bespoke tailors. This open-mouthed pocket is a very easy way to slide cards in and out, and Camps de Luca in Paris achieves a similar effect with a tear-drop shaped pocket.

Most tailors, certainly the English, will dislike the ostentation of the initials and tailor’s brand. But you can’t deny the quality of the workmanship around the pockets and buttonhole, something that Urban again has in common with my French tailor, Cifonelli. (See jacket here.)

I do like original ideas. Even if I don’t want to take them up. Gianni is apparently also making a camouflage suit jacket for Lapo Elkann, to go with his new camouflage Ferrari.

Reader question: first bespoke, in Hong Kong

WW Chan jacket, courtesy of The Armoury

Hi Simon,

As an expat Brit living in Hong Kong, I like to think have a keen eye for style and fashion but surprisingly had never thought about going bespoke until I got married last year. My first attempt was in fact my wedding suit made by the same person who made the dress for my wife, and whilst I thought it was great at the time, on reflection, I definitely got what I paid for (approx £120 for a 3 piece) in terms of quality and cut.

So now I’m looking to ‘upgrade’ for an upcoming event (and beyond) and I have a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind answering...

Having read countless online forums, everyone seems to have their favourite HK tailors from the low end to the very high. The few ‘expensive’ ones (WW Chan, Gordon Yao, A Man Hin Cheong etc) seem to get a lot of good press but their prices seem a little steep for the jump I want to make, especially for the branded cloths I am keen to try. Is there a hugely noticeable quality between the ‘branded’ cloths such as Zegna, Loro Piana and Dormeuil - rather than the non branded? It seems like they cost upwards of 75-100% more, but am I paying for the name, the quality, or both?

Secondly, if you had the choice of getting something made with a more expensive branded cloth from a mid range priced tailor (such as your HK tailor, E.Italian) or a cheaper non branded cloth from one of the high end tailor (such as WW Chan), which would you choose?

Thirdly – in order to save some money, would it be cheaper to source and buy the cloth myself and would the ‘good’ tailors in Hong Kong allow me to bring my own cloth? Where would you recommend I start looking for cloth – preferably online?

Thank you in advance.

Kind Regards

JT

-

Hi JT,

Really pleased you’re making the jump to a great bespoke suit. It sounds like you have a real interest in clothes and will get the most out of the process and final result.

Hong Kong is a fantastic place to do this for the first time, because you have the full range from overnight, cheap jobs such as you have already experienced, to the expensive tailors who approach Savile Row in both cut and quality. In between are the tailors like E.Italian, which I used when I first started out, who will deliver an impressive amount of handwork for around £300 but won’t quite reach the WW Chans of this world on quality, and certainly not on fit.

I would recommend that you go for Chan, Gordon Yao or A Man Cheong, as you seem to be able to afford it if you do not pick the most expensive cloth. It is worth paying that little bit extra for something of great quality, and it sounds like – correct me if I’m wrong – you won’t wear this suit every day so it will last very well. I don’t have any personal experience of any of those tailors, so I’m afraid I can’t help you choose between them. (But if you’re seeing Chan it’s worth popping into The Armoury on Pedder Street – Mark and Ethan will give you some great advice.)

On cloth, it’s not worth paying for Zegna or Loro Piana, particularly on your first suit. Get a good, solid English or Italian mill and something that will last – perhaps a couple of ounces heavier than you might naturally choose in Hong Kong, 11oz at the minimum. Some of the extra you pay for big-brand cloth is that branding, and the rest is innovation and research to get particularly fine or luxurious cloths, which aren’t the point of your first suit.

You can source cloth yourself, but it won’t save much money by the time it’s been flown out to Hong Kong. Most HK tailors will do a CMT job, but I would just bear that in mind for a time when you have access to cloth for some reason (e.g. you’re in London and wandering past the WW Bill basement!).

Finally, my one piece of advice on having suits made in Hong Kong: always say what you think, and insist on style changes that you are sure are right. While the tailors obviously know more than you, there is a tendency to square, boxy jackets and similarly styled trousers that you want to avoid.

I hope this is of some help

Simon

Tom Davies horn glasses

It’s taken a while to get round to writing about my glasses from Tom Davies. Partially, that was because it took a while to have them made. I was a guinea big for the bespoke service for horn glasses, and as with any new service it took that big longer to perfect. Partially, it's my own laziness.

Tom initially planned to offer horn glasses in any of the designs in his collection. Customers would simply pick out a pair of glasses they liked, select a slice of buffalo horn from a range of colours and then trace around that collection, frame, indicating exactly which parts of the horn they wanted on which parts of the frame. Same with the sides.

Unfortunately, horn is essentially always trying to return to its original shape, to straighten up if bent. This isn’t a problem on the flat front of the frame, but the design I picked involved curved ends to the frame, where it would segue into the joint. Any tiny change in the horn on that curve would be immediately noticed at the end of the arm, moving it out from the side of the head.

Tom has refined the process, therefore, and only certain designs are available in the buffalo horn range. More importantly though, Tom is unique in offering this service, particularly the choice between a selection of horn pieces, and it’s great to be involved in that aspect of the design. The glasses also come in a large, attractive box made out of buffalo leather.

Tom’s designs are rather different to other glasses I have written about – EB Meyrowitz, for example. Tom tends to the squarer, the slightly larger frame, which is perhaps likely to find favour among younger men. Such should be obvious from his website.

But as with Meyrowitz he can create new frames, usually based on an existing style that is adjusted for the wearer’s dimensions. One obvious difference is that Tom takes photos of the customer and sends to his factory in China, which sends back suggested proportions superimposed on the customer’s face (as shown below).

My glasses from Tom were, as you might expect, still rather classic. But the horn adds a different texture and the design process was fascinating. Sorry it took so long to report on. (I picked the design on the far left.)

More information on Tom Davies in previous post here.

Interview: Brunello Cucinelli on pale colours

From the Brunello Cucinelli Spring/Summer 2012 catalogue: “The color palette features pastel shades with slightly grayish, faded, and mélange tones: Lily, Plum, Chamomile, Geranium, Lime, Mint, Quartz, Antarctic White, Coral, Orange, and Eucalyptus”


Permanent Style: Thank you for talking to us from Solomeo, Brunello.

I’d like to ask you about your use of colour in your collections, if I may, particularly for Spring and Summer. Your clothes frequently use pale colours for this season, and I think this is something English men are traditionally bad at wearing during the summer months, tending to extremes of pale linen and nothing else. What is the key to wearing pale colours well?

Brunello Cucinelli: I think the key is to always match a colour with something neutral. So you could wear a nice pale orange trouser, but with a mid-grey or navy jacket. Or, if the weather suits pale colours everywhere, make sure one of them is a neutral colour like a beige or a cream.

The collection is organised along these lines, and it’s not too much to say that it is the philosophy of the company to present things in this way.

PS: So these neutral colours can be both dark and light?

BC: Yes, I think the most useful and versatile ones are brown, grey and navy, but sandy colours or cream or white also work well, if the outfit can cope with such little contrast.

PS: Why do you think men have a problem with pale colours? Is it just an English thing, or do you get it in Italy as well?

BC: Men in Italy are more used to wearing colour, because of the weather. In Rome or Capri you see a lot of colour, although there is less of it in Milan, for example, or other more business-driven cities. I think the skill to wearing colour is acquired gradually in these circumstances, when you can learn from others.

PS: I suppose an alternative is looking at the various models and combinations you exhibit in your catalogues.

BC: Yes absolutely, this is a good place to start.

PS: Is there a difference between wearing strong colours and pale colours?

BC: The approach is the same, but again it depends on where you live. It is easier to wear strong colours when you live in a part of the world where the sun is bright all the time. English men, by contrast, will probably find it easier to wear pale colours.

Some colours look much better in pale variations as well, particularly orange and green.

PS: Does this philosophy regarding colour extend into any other aspects of the clothes, such as materials?

BC: You could say so, yes. Firstly, a lot of the pieces are cut so that they can go together easily. So the cargo pants are cut slim and straight, so they go well with even a tailored blazer, and the suits are a little more casual in their materials and style – we use very little structure and a narrow overlap for the double-breasted jackets, what we call a one-and-a-half jacket.

Secondly, we encourage the mixing of formal and casual materials in our outfits – a denim shirt, for example, can make a suit appear much younger and contemporary. The texture of a tie and a handkerchief is similar: we have very loose cashmere ties at the moment, and some softly patterned cotton handkerchiefs.

PS: Thank you for you advice, Brunello. I look forward to coming out to Solomeo.

Sartoria Vergallo, final suit

I received the final suit from Vergallo a couple of weeks ago, and am pleased with the results. I think the most pertinent thing to say by why of analysis is that the cut is very soft – perhaps softer than I expected from a northern Italian tailor. But that might just be my inexperience. I’m still a beginner, folks.

The chest and shoulder are both very lightly padded, and the shoulder itself slopes off naturally without any roll – though of course not being a spalla camicia or shirt sleeve, as preferred in Naples. This effect is exaggerated by the material, which was of course entirely my choice. It is a cashmere/wool mix from a Cacciopoli bunch in a fairly chunky weave and is certainly intended for a blazer, rather than a full suit.

But the overall effect is an incredibly comfortable suit, something that feels more comfy than any cotton tracksuit you care to mention. The trousers are unlikely to hold a crease, but I audibly sigh and relax as I put it on.

The suit is therefore certainly not sharp or stylised. It has mid-size lapels and relatively closed quarters – not much cutaway at the bottom. The trousers are typical of the region, being cuffed and relatively short, though not that narrow. A Vergallo suit wouldn’t normally come with strap-and-buckle adjustors, but I requested them. My only criticism of the suit, in fact, is that the adjustors Gianni sourced could be better – but that can easily be changed.

The work throughout is top notch and the fit very good, as hopefully comes across. It exhibits the little touches that Gianni takes pride in, such as the darts in the forepart ending at the pocket, making the bottom a single piece. And the patch pockets have that lovely curved shape that clearly sets it apart from English tailoring.

A lovely, well-made and great-value suit.

Sartoria Vergallo is based in Varese, but visits London every month. His suits start at €1800. For more background, see post here.

Three truths, universally acknowledged

There are certain tendencies among stylish men that never make it into the lists of rules. They are not as intuitive or easily explained, perhaps, as covering your waist when wearing black tie or matching your socks to your trousers. But they are almost universally acceded to, through some common realisation that inevitably comes when you care what you wear every day.

I offer three examples, in the hope they are helpful.

30oz foulards from Drake's. With four in hand, of course

1 Ties should be worn with a four-in-hand knot

Scores of men in the past century have been held up as style icons. They all tied their ties in a four-in-hand knot.

The Windsor knot was named after the Duke but he never wore one – his ties were simply made thicker. Even Prince Michael of Kent, with his bulbous knots, ties extra thick ties in a four-in-hand – mostly made by Turnbull & Asser. I’ve seen them.

Other knots are cheaper ways to achieve this effect, or simply gimmicks. I offer no rationale other than the fact that a four-in-hand is pleasingly asymmetric and has a length more reflective of the blade below it. The fact is, everyone wears one.

Long green socks from Mes Chausettes Rouges 

2 Long socks to be worn with anything above jeans

It can be hard to explain how much more satisfying long socks (calf length, to just below your knee) are until you’ve worn them. Most men find them fussy and – more importantly, to them – effeminate.

I felt very sorry for Welsh comedian Rob Brydon who, on British TV quiz show QI last year, proclaimed his love of “the long sock” only to be mercilessly bullied by the other panelists. Such is men’s fear of unusual clothing.

Long socks are not hot, particularly cotton ones: there is too little blood in your calves. They are more comfortable, because you never have to adjust them: short socks are as annoying, and almost as unattractive, has having trousers that constantly fall down. And long socks look a lot better, certainly with any trouser approaching smart: you don’t let your trousers puddle around your ankles, so why would you do so with your socks?

The superiority of calf-length socks has long been acknowledged by every stylish gent. Cost-cutting industry and lazy consumers are to blame for the rise of the short sock.

Huntsman house tweed

3 Bigger patterns, weaves and colours are less formal

Obviously a bright-red tweed is less suitable for a business meeting than a navy suit. But it bears consideration that the tweed’s colour, texture and check all contribute to this informality, and the same principle applies on a much smaller scale.

The smaller the check on a suit, the more formal it is; the darker or weaker the colour, too; and worsted wool (what most suits are made out of) is smarter than cashmere, even if the latter feels more luxurious. Black tie is the smartest outfit most commonly worn today and it has no colour or pattern, usually, just the tiniest contrast between matte and shiny, shoe and suit.

The same principle applies to every item of dress, from ties to shoes.

Why consider formality? Because what you wear reveals a lot about what you think of the person you are meeting. It is thought and consideration, time taken and therefore compliment given.

Giancarlo Maresca

There are characters. There are dandies. And then there’s Giancarlo Maresca. A Neapolitan man about town, he knows everything and everyone, dropping in on a shoemaker here, checking in on some shirts being made there. Saturday, he says, is for such errands.

More seriously, Giancarlo has helped some of the great names in Neapolitan craft, working with them until they are – in his view – great artisans. At that point they are accredited by his gentleman’s club, the Nine Doors. It is a stamp of approval, and often leads to a decent up-tick in custom.

One such artisan was Mario Talarico, the great umbrella maker (above, left, with Giancarlo). Although a third-generation artisan, Mario’s high-end work was not getting the attention it deserved. Giancarlo worked with him, suggested a few things like using mother-of-pearl buttons and wrapping the rings that hooked on them, and added his name to Nove Porte roster. That was over 10 years ago.

Giancarlo is also working with a shirtmaker and a tailor, the latter of whom, Enzo Carfora, we met while in Naples and will write about in greater detail later. But it was interesting to see the few pieces Enzo had made since he struck out on his own, mostly for Giancarlo, and how they had improved.

Giancarlo’s greatest strength, though, is as a conversationalist. Or orator, perhaps, for the other side rarely gets a look in. He is obsessed by cloth, and will rhapsodise about the way light plays on different weaves and textures. Cloth is all about light, he says. Look at the way it breaks up and disperses. Look at how much is absorbed.

The effect is improved by imperfect English. In describing the strength of a square, double-breasted jacket, he talks about its force, about its thrust. Clenched fists, plunging downwards, help refine the point.

Such a jacket is an example of Doric clothing, by the way, as in the architectural style. Most jackets, certainly DBs, are Doric, Ionic or Corinthian. Doric is for the masses, it is democratic and weighty (square and widely separated buttons). Ionic is elegant and light, ascending (a more diagonal button formation, pointing up). Corinthian is elitist, selfish and flirtatious (a DB buttoned at the bottom, with extravagant lapels).

There are more serious theories. The difference between civilisation and progress, for example. Civilisation is the refinement of ideas; progress is faster internet access. Or the difference between quality and quantity in modern clothing. Men just buy more clothes and layer them because they know nothing about cloth. It was the American army’s fault – they replaced the adaptable European wool uniform with cotton T-shirts and jackets, intended to be layered for different conditions. That’s one reason why linen, tweed and flannel have fallen out of favour.

On the specifics of dress, Giancarlo is, unsurprisingly, very conservative. Cashmere is a material for overcoats or the home. Not a jacket. Madder ties are for tweed – the contrast is texture must come from a silk handkerchief, not the tie. Only specific types of glasses fit specific people or occasions: tortoiseshell is for intellectuals, silver for salesmen or politicians; gold is for evening, black is for lawyers.

Yet many of these conservative ideas are expressed in eccentric combinations. And this, I think, demonstrates the lightness at the heart of Giancarlo’s attitude. For while there are principles of dress, they should not be taken too seriously. There’s nothing wrong with pink tweed suit, leather trilby and yellow glasses. On a Saturday, at least.

Thank you, Giancarlo, for your hospitality.

How to stop sweaters pilling

Good knitwear needs to be looked after, tempting though it is to think that it rarely needs cleaning or anything else. A regular clean does more than just stop the piece smelling: it also brings up the fibres, brings back colour and, perhaps unexpectedly, helps with pilling.

A new sweater should be worn two or three times, and then washed. This will help settle the fibres and decrease the amount it will pill. Doing so regularly in the future will also reduce pilling over time. The finer a cashmere is, the longer the fibres, so it can be more susceptible to pilling. And pieces that are hand knitted can suffer particularly.

Hand washing is safest, followed by rolling the sweater up in a towel to remove excess moisture and drying flat. I put mine on a rack to increase the air flow; try not to let the arms dangle over the edge in case that stretches them slightly. Remember you’re drying the sweater flat to protect it in its moist, weakened state.

You can wash most cashmere sweaters in the washing machine though – just make sure it’s on the lowest temperature setting and the gentlest cycle. And put the piece either in a washing bag or a pillow case to prevent it stretching – that’s the major thing you’re trying to avoid in hand washing it, after all.

I only started doing this recently, beginning with a relatively cheap sweater as an experiment and moving up to my most valuable stuff. So far I’ve encountered no negative effects at all.

Lastly, when sweaters do pill simply run an emery board or nail file over them. It picks up the little nubbins beautifully.

I have Audie Charles, of Hayward and now Anderson & Sheppard, to thank for most of these practical tips. She promises more pointers in a blog once the A&S haberdashery gets up and running. We can’t wait, Audie.

Photo: Andy Barnham

Thom Sweeney jacket and trousers

With most bespoke tailors worthy of the name, the quality of construction is pretty consistent. Everything worth the effort is done by hand: chest padding, inserting sleeves, sewing buttonholes. The French may double-sew their buttonholes; the Neapolitans may work their sleeves in under the shoulder; but in the end these are mostly questions of style rather than quality.

Quality is easy to analyse. It is much harder to find any objective parameters for style. And in the end, most men I know who have clothes made for them end up sticking with the tailor whose style they like. Geeky points of bespoke technique are only more important to men who haven’t much of it made. In the end, you have to feel you look good.

The difficulty of analysing style makes tailors that have it perennially interesting. Thom Sweeney (Thom Whiddet and Luke Sweeney) is one such tailor. Their horseshoe, single-breasted waistcoat is instantly recognisable. They cut jackets a little shorter (while still covering the rear), sleeves a lot narrower and cut away aggressively from the waist button. It could be considered trendy; but as with any of the truly stylish tailors, it is underpinned by a fundamental understanding of the benefits of traditional tailoring.

All of which is context for saying that I had this jacket and the corduroy trousers below made. The jacket is more aggressively styled than anything else I’ve had made bespoke. And I find that intriguing.

I can just feel the sleeve in the crook of my elbow when I bend my arm. But it is not uncomfortable. The back feels close, but not restrictive unless working at a desk all day (and many traditional tailors cut close here too – John Kent being one). The cut away, length and shape of the lapel I find subtle enough to be stylish without drawing attention to any one element.

Indeed, I think the most interesting thing about the style is the line achieved by a broad lapel (3.75 inches), a low buttoning point and a sharp cutaway. Regardless of the shape of the individual, this is flattering. Incorrect, perhaps, in some tailor’s eyes. But certainly attractive.

We did take a few attempts to get the sleeve length right. The house style shows a little more cuff than I would naturally. But that was fixed on the third fitting.

Just as important as cut, is cloth. Thom and Luke are the only tailors I know in London who have always stocked Cacciopoli bunches (and not just suitings, which have been distributed in England by other Italian distributors for a while). Cacciopoli has a wonderful range of cashmere jacketings with original colour combinations, and silk/wool/linen summer. This navy windowpane check is a Cacciopoli cashmere jacketing and I love it. Cacciopoli is not actually a mill, merely a seller of other manufacturers, but the range it puts together, particularly the cashmeres and summer mixes, is distinct from any English mill and most of what Zegna or Loro Piana sells here.

The trousers have been worn several times and, being corduroy, have quickly assumed their own, irregular shape. But the narrowness of the fit (verging on too slim) reins in that natural looseness. Plus, I like having them in grey – it escapes the old-country associations of the normal beiges and browns.

A good experience with a very stylish tailor. You can tell that from the décor, right?

Photography: Luke Carby

Weaving the Permanent Style Tweed

Thank you to all those who ordered with the first run of Permanent Style Tweed. Here are some pictures of your cloth being woven, up at Breanish in Port Ness, Lewis.

There will be a second run, with a deadline to be determined but probably in around two months. Orders can of course be taken at any time though.

I hope everyone likes their tweed!

Beaming (to create the warp)

Tying in (putting the warp on the loom)

Loading a shuttle

Karen about to start weaving (on Bertha)

Close up with needles in focus

The finished bolt

How bespoke tailors work

Henry Poole cutter Craig Featherstone marks out my Prince-of-Wales suit

Last week a reader asked me who the various people were in a bespoke tailoring house, and it occurred to me that this is one area I have never offered a guide to. So here goes.

The personnel in most tailoring houses divide into salesmen, cutters and tailors.

The former, also known as front of house or a euphemism like ‘client consultant’, will greet you, discuss your order and record it, as well as handling most communication from then on.

Although he is a salesman, he should not be undervalued. He is frequently a great source of advice on cloth and style, and great tailoring houses have been built by such men. Timothy Everest, Richard James and both Mariano and Luca Rubinacci are wonderfully stylish men, the best ambassadors for gentlemanly dress and an inspiration to bespoke commissions everywhere, but they are not tailors or cutters.

The cutter is the artist. He is the man you will be introduced to by the salesman and will take your measurements. He will cut your suit and fit it on you. A good relationship with your cutter, particularly in communicating to him how you want your suit to look, is absolutely essential.

Cutters are often big personalities too – Richard Anderson, John Hitchcock, Lorenzo Cifonelli. They are arguably the core of a tailoring house, and many men will always follow their cutter, wherever he works. European tailors are nearly universally built around a family of cutters (Caraceni, Solito, Panico).

And of course when a house becomes very small, it is essentially just a cutter with whatever salesmen and tailors the size of his business can afford (Steven Hitchcock, Len Logsdail, John Kent and Terry Haste). This is one great advantage of having freelance tailors (coat makers, trouser makers etc), as is the practice in England. It makes the costs of being a tailor business very flexible.

So cutters and salesmen are very different, but they also vary in their role from house to house. Sometimes the big selling point is the style of the salesman, sometimes the reputation of a cutter. Just as often, the two make a particularly good combination of personalities (Richard Anderson and Brian Lishak, Craig Pogson and Dougie Davis, Thom Whiddett and Luke Sweeney).

The actual tailors are likely to be buried away, either in the basement or in different premises. Most are coat makers, some will be trouser makers, and still others will specialise in waistcoats. But other than admiring their handiwork, you don’t need to have much contact with them.

Many cutters start off as tailors, only switching when they become more experienced. So they can cut and make suits, and some still operate on this basis – or young names start out that way.

When you visit a tailor for the first time, whether it’s a big Savile Row house or a small regional outfit, it’s important to understand whom you are talking to. Salesmen, cutters and tailors may overlap, but they will be responsible for very different things when it comes to your suit.

The Rake online

A Stefano Bemer bespoke sole

Please remember, loyal readers, that I am now writing every week - indeed, twice a week - for The Rake online, which is expanding into a great source for international artisanal articles.

Recently we have had posts on:
- Lorenzo Villoresi, my favourite perfumer
- Stefano Bemer, a wonderful Florentine bespoke shoemaker
- Gaziano & Girling bespoke
- Naples tailor Elia Caliendo
- and, Cifonelli's yak coats

I hope you like them.

Naples and its tailors

Neapolitan coffee, at Kiton

I was in Naples last week for this site and The Rake, talking to tailors, shoemakers and those of associated crafts. It was nice to spend a few days in the city and get to the point where I knew my way around, where I had never really had time previously.

One of the things I always find interesting in such trips is how priorities vary between tailoring cultures. Not just the different styles to a lapel, but the little things that are so accepted as to be rarely discussed in one city, yet ubiquitously contradicted in another.

Little things like buttons. English tailors will use unpolished horn buttons 90% of the time. A polished button is considered showy, too like ready-to-wear, perhaps a little too similar to plastic. Certainly the difference between a polished horn button and a good fake on a Ralph Lauren jacket is far less pronounced. Most Neapolitans consider this silly, polishing their horn (as it were), and using corozo nut buttons as often as horn – which can look even more like plastic.

Silk lining in jackets is another. I remember when I was first learning about bespoke and speaking to English tailors, everyone said exactly the same thing about linings: synthetic silks like bemberg are much better, for longevity and breathability. So how come no one in Naples uses it, where the weather is that much hotter? Even in fully lined jackets.

To stray onto something a little more fundamental, the attitude to hand work, particularly on shirts, is completely different. One young Neapolitan gentleman genuinely told me “I’d simply die if I couldn’t wear shirts with handsewn buttonholes.” It was rather Anthony Blanche. And yet, as I pointed out, English shirtmakers put no hand work into their shirts – even the aspects that could be considered more functional, less aesthetic, like attaching sleeves or sewing collars in the round. These guys love English brands; but they don’t quite agree with their principles.

There are hundreds of differences. (Buttonholes on jackets being another. Fine or double-sewn work is considered rather foppish and associated with north Italy or France, yet a waterfall at the sleevehead is not.)

I have deliberately steered away from differences that are obviously matters of taste, such as padding and pocket shapes. The number of little things that remain should perhaps serve as a warning to anyone who takes his principles of tailoring too straight or too seriously.

Writer Giancarlo Maresca, with Talarico umbrella

Photography: Luke Carby

The history of Drake's

Drake’s was founded in 1977 by three ex-Aquascutum employees: Michael Drake (head of menswear design), Jeremy Hull (export sales director) and Isabel Dickson (export sales administration). “It always helps when you found a business to have people that don’t step on each other’s toes,” says Michael. “Looking back on it, if our areas had overlapped then it probably wouldn’t have lasted.”

Jeremy left first, working with department store El Corte Ingles in Spain before hooking up with Italian brand Belvest. A wonderful artisanal company, both Jeremy and Michael had worked with Belvest while at Aquascutum. But the brand was little known outside of Italy, so they asked Jeremy to take on the agency for the brand in all English-speaking countries. Jeremy, in turn, asked Michael, and the latter was soon travelling to the American market and selling there, designing his own samples for the local market each time.

“That was great experience, because it was both sales and creating a mini-collection, making sure all the construction details were just as we wanted them, the pockets and the lapels just right,” remembers Michael.

After eight months of struggling Belvest took off, particularly in the US. By this time Isabel had also joined from Aquascutum and became the financial brains behind the company, allowing Michael and Jeremy to focus on the business. But although frantic for parts of the year, it wasn’t a year-round job. So in his spare time Michael began designing scarves.

He had ample experience here, having done the house check at Aquascutum and started a small accessories collection there. He had always wanted to do scarves too, but didn’t have the chance. Now, he used his time off to design a small collection of lambswool scarves, oversized and in bright colours. On a whim, he and Jeremy decided to take it to the SEHM trade show in Paris, hiring the smallest booth they had. They took £100,00 of orders. And then lost them in the airport on the way back.

Jeremy picked up the wrong brief case. Fortunately, they managed to recover the right one and the orders it contained, though they had no money to fund the collection when they got home. American Express (it had a bank back then) helped them with the arrangements and the financing. And they took on premises at 25 Old Bond Street – where Tiffany & Co is now.

Both Belvest and the scarves business ran in parallel for over 15 years. The former was largely responsible for funding the latter. Indeed at that time, Belvest was selling more in North America than Ermenegildo Zegna.

Ties entered the picture in the mid-eighties, when customers began asking Michael where he got his ties from. Now Michael had always been very particular about his ties, having them made at Holliday & Brown or Charles Hill. He would commission them especially, and often do interesting things with the cloth like invert the colours (as he had done in tartan on that first collection of scarves) or have them made inside out.

A customer of Michael’s in Munich said he would like to buy similar ties. He told Michael he should start making ties. Not wanting to compete with his friend Charles Hill, Michael offered to launch it with him – as Hill & Drake. That took off immediately, proving very popular with existing scarf customers. Turnbull & Asser, however, a big customer of Charles’s factory, was keen to secure its own supply and bought the Charles Hill premises. (It still owns and runs them today.)

Michael and Jeremy were left with customers, but no production. So they started travelling the country, trying to hire tiemakers. They moved them into their office in Clerkenwell (still a thriving factory and office today). And the Drake’s tie label entered its penultimate phase.

I say penultimate because although Drake’s went on to be an incredibly successful tie business, supplying the couture houses as well the best menswear shops around Europe (and receiving the Queen’s Award for Export, from the Queen at Buckingham Palace), it wasn’t until it started its website in 2007 that the company we know today became fully fledged.

The Belvest agency work had been handed back by this time, so everyone could focus on Drake’s. Keen to expand, they became involved with negotiations over premises on Savile Row. Frustratingly, that fell through. But it spurred Michael and everyone else to launch the website.

It was modern, it was clean, it worked (always important on the internet), and it sold to everyone, everywhere. Michael had always said that key to success was being able to sell to both the fashionable and the traditional, the French, the Italians and the Americans. The site did that, and ever since it has been the paradigm for stylish, effective retail online.

Then in 2011, the shop finally opened. On Clifford Street, round the corner from Savile Row. Just as the website had pushed Michael to expand into knitwear, shirts and gloves, the shop gave the impetus for beautiful, unlined jackets, desert boots and brogues. The Drake’s aesthetic – English as worn by the French – could all be bought in one place.