July 5, 2006

after the fitting...

[A pile of my American customers' suits, ready to be re-made after their first fittings. Don't panic, I know it looks a crushed pile. But this is the way it's done and nothing will be harmed. Handmade suits are very resilient. All the suits have been ripped down and matched with their patterns for updating.]

Thank God, we've been very busy lately. Lucy and I had a wonderful time on our recent American tour. It was lovely to catch up with old and new friends, though we were both exhausted by the time we arrived back in England, late last week.

[Lucy and her ever-changing hair, on the balcony of New York's Hotel Benjamin.]

My customers I generally regard as friends, and when we meet in London or Cumbria we're allowed a lot more time for business, and then a drink or lunch afterwards, than we get in America. So as a result, everyone in America wants to book the last appointment of the day, for a drink after work. After two weeks of this I start feeling a bit of an alcoholic.

Many of our customers are very interested to know what happens to their clothes after we'd fitted them in the US, and then got them home to Cumbria. What happens next?

Basically, its the same as if you'd had your fitting here at Warwick Hall. The clothes are taken apart and rebuilt.

People are mystified by all the shorthand we write over the job in chalk, when we're fitting your new suit. I'm sure by the puzzled looks I get, many of you must think it's good theatre, just there for for effect. But I promise its not an act, you can see the basic stages in the process of ordering a suit here. However in a little more detail, this is what happens at a fitting.

Obviously we will try on the trousers first and mark as necessary, and then we do the jacket. The instructions I will mark on the suit with chalk, and then I copy on a piece paper after the fitting. This is done because chalk is not permanent, and by the time it's been in a suitcase for a week and hauled round America, it can all look very confusing. Especially when I open my suitcase with jet-lagged eyes.

Some of the details are too complicated to explain here, but these are the basics:

[Above:] This shows the three very basic marks: to shorten [left], lengthen [right], and if were lucky, the cross in the middle means to leave everything well alone.

[Above:] This shows where we want to stretch or shape the fabric, over a prominent calf or shoulder blade.

The two pictures below show different types of sleeve pitch adjustment.

[Above:] This says to pitch the sleeve up 3/8 of an inch.

[Above:] This marks where your arm should hang in relation to your body.

[Above:] When we mark like this over a seam it tells the tailor to let out [left] or take in the amount as marked [right].

When we get back home we rip the suit apart and analyse all the marks, then transfer the changes to the cutting pattern. It's generally a good system that works well. Sadly it's quite time consuming, but that's just the way it is

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April 6, 2006

overcoat...

[The overcoat, ready for its fitting. Click on image to enlarge.]

Here are some snapshots of a sample overcoat I'm currently working on.

This is from a wonderful idea given to me by Michael Alden at The London Lounge. Michael showed me some wonderful old illustrations of overcoats from circa 1900, and suggested I fashion a hybrid version of this classic style, but with a slightly more contemporary feel and fit.

This overcoat will eventually be for myself, so you'll see the finished article on me eventually, hopefully by mid-summer [Typical- the tailors always gets his own clothes out of season].

Michael and I had a lot of fun when we discussed the style of the coat a few months ago.

I'm afraid my cameraphone doesn't really do it justice, but to describe it to you, it will be a high, six buttoned, double-breasted overcoat, with a dark grey velvet top collar.

What you cannot see in the photographs is that it has been cut similar to a body coat, with full blade cuts in the back, a seperate skirt, and one-piece full box pleat at the back.

[The rather discrete but full side box pleats, which weill open nicely. Click on image to enlarge.]

The look, when we're finished, will have a very elegant, semi-military appearance. However with the large pleats and high closing of the overcoat, it will prove to be extremely warm and durable, especially for Cumbrian winters.

We'll let you know how it's coming along, and a hat tip to Michael for inspiring the project.

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March 13, 2006

overcoat...

A "skiffle" [rush job] finished over the weekend, which the client tried on this morning. A beautiful overcoat, just in time for him to wear to Cheltenham tomorrow. Let's hope it brings him some luck with the horses.

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February 18, 2006

100 suits per year...

[A coat waiting to go to the finisher.]

As any English Cut regular will know, the last year has been a very busy one for me, thanks to my many kind readers who have entrusted me with their business. And of course, for that I am extremely grateful.

But there's the rub. Suddenly I am so busy with orders, at this rate I will no longer be able properly keep up with the increase in demand. That is unacceptable to me.

I have two choices. Either keep selling more suits and scale up the business, or rein it in.

I think I prefer the latter course. Perhaps it's time to nip it in the bud.

So I'm considering limiting my output to one hundred suits per year. One hundred. No more.

Hopefully this will allow me to spend less time travelling, and more time doing what I love most- making beautiful suits that make my customers very happy.

This is about 2 suits per week, which is roughly the ideal number. Anything less and I'm twiddling my thumbs; anything more and things start getting hectic.

[Label prototype, with number and year- Number seventy seven out of a hundred, for the year 2007.]

So everybody would be very clear about this, every suit ordered in the the year would be numbered and dated.

1/100, 2006. 2/100, 2006... 85/100, 2006. And so on.

Then in 2007 the cycle begins again.

This is just an idea, but I'm very seriously condsidering it. Please let me know your thoughts, either in the comments or via e-mail. I would especially appreciate it if my existing customers would let me know what they think. Thank you.

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January 14, 2006

english cut handmade shirts

[A lovely shirt from Cole's of London.]

I have started investigating getting English Cut handmade shirts made for my clients. Every time I go to America I receive lots of requests for them, so I've decided it may be time to do something about it.

For those of you new to Savile Row and English sartoria, a little background information:

Jermyn Street is traditionally where the finest English shirtmakers have their shops. Located about five minutes walk South of Savile Row, traditionally the thing to do was go visit your tailor on Savile Row for your suits, then go visit Jermyn Street for your shirts. Even today, it's not uncommon for a customer to visit both streets on a single afternoon's shopping.

Probably the most famous shirtmaker on Jermyn Street is Turnbull & Asser, who do wonderful work. Or for those looking for something more off the beaten track, when I worked at Anderson & Sheppard we always referred our customers to Budd of Piccadilly, located in the Piccadilly Arcade, just off Jermyn Street, which is a real gem of a company. Though the shop is very small, I've been told that this is the only Jermyn Street firm that still has a proper workshop on its main premises. Wonderful.

But now it's very common for Savile Row tailors to have shirts made for their clients as well. Dege & Skinner have their very own in-house shirtmaker, but the more common practice is to subcontract the work out to third parties, the ones who also supply Jermyn Street.

When I was in London last I had a few conversations with people who could perhaps supply for me. Though I am not by trade a shirtmaker, I have had some experience with it, having apprenticed for a shirtmaker in my youth for a few months. So I may not be the world's authority, but I do know the Real McCoy when I see it. And any shirt carrying the English Cut label will be nothing less than that.

Life being short, I am only going to sell shirts of the highest quality. They'll have to be as good as anything you'll find in Jermyn Street, or else it'll just be a waste of time; yours as well as mine. That means every customer individually measured, every shirt hand cut and sewn from the client's individual pattern, using the best cottons on the market.

The usual practice is not to get a "fitting" when the garment is half-made, the way you do with a bespoke suit. Instead, the client will get a first "prototype" shirt made. The client will then try the prototype shirt on, wear it for a few washings to break it in, see how it fits, then call upon the shirtmaker with any needed adjustments. Once the adjustments on the prototype have been fixed, then and only then would the client's full order go into production [six to twelve shirts per order is fairly typical].

Then after that, all the client has to do when he wants new shirts, is get on the phone or drop me an e-mail and place an order. Easy.

Cole's of London has a very good introduction to what goes into the making of a good, Jermyn Street quality shirt, including:

1. Designs matched.
2. Removeable collar stiffeners.
3. Two-piece yoke.
4. Two-piece collar.

I would recommend go reading it on their website, under the link, "The Perfect Shirt".

If it's economically feasible, I would prefer it if the shirts were made in England. There are a few manufacturing firms still around, but it seems most shirtmaking these days is subcontracted out abroad [Peru, China, Portugal, India etc.], even with the high-end Jermyn Street firms. There's nothing inherently wrong with this, the quality may still be very high, but I suspect my customers would rather know the shirts were made in England, even if it ends up costing a little more. The label does say "English" Cut, after all.

My advice to anybody visiting Jermyn Street or Savile Row would be to ask where the shirts are manufactured, before placing an order.

We shall see where this all takes us. This idea is only in its infancy, although yes, it's already starting to receive a lot of interest from my customers. Please do let me know what you think, either in the comments or via e-mail. I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Thank you.

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January 3, 2006

wedges, or, how "bespoke" is bespoke?

[Left arm and right arm patterns. Because the gentleman's arm is permanently bent, I had to create a "wedge" to compensate, instead of just making the right sleeve shorter.]

The idea of "bespoke" is not only is it hand-made, but it's designed to fit just you and only you.

And the mark of a Savile Row tailor is that he pushes that idea to the extreme.

Here's an example. In the photo above, I was drafting the arm patterns for a client. The gentleman, for whatever reason, had an arm that could not open fully; it was permanently bent.

If the suit was off-the-peg, there would only be one solution- take it to an alterations tailor and have him shorten the sleeve.

But with bespoke, that's not how it's done. What I did as a standard procedure was create a wedge, using extra paper stapled together, to create a unique pattern for the gentleman's right arm, different from his left.

[Close-up of the wedge. Three pieces in all, stapled together.]

Wedges are very common on Savile Row, and not just on the arms. It's not just that no two bodies are ever identical, but no individual body is ever 100% symmetrical or perfectly shaped. Therefore the tailor must compensate accordingly.

[Another wedge- this time for the spine at the back of the neck.]

In the third picture above we have another good example of a wedge being used, this time on a different client. This gentleman holds his head further forward than most, so I placed in a wedge to compensate for the extra curvature of his spine. It's just small detail, but small details matter.

And in case you noticed from the photos, I always have a piece of green cloth on my cutting table when I'm drafting a pattern. It always feels nicer to chalk mark the card with the cloth behind it, as opposed to just having the hard, wooden table.

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December 31, 2005

the last pattern

This is my last pattern for 2005. They'll be a lovely pair of trousers by the time I'm done with them.

It's been a very eventful year, to say the least.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. Happy New Year to you all, and thank you for reading English Cut.

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December 21, 2005

dinner jacket...

(click on image to enlarge)

One of my tailors just brought this over to show me; a job for another Savile Row client of his:

A beautiful, classic single-breasted dinner jacket with peaked lapel and corded silk facings.

It's a stunning piece of work, with all the handwork and craftsmanship you'd expect from the Row. Let's hope the new owner will appreciate it, as he will only be able to enjoy it for about six months.

Why? Because as he's only four years old, he will soon outgrow it.

But 'tis better to have loved and lost...

[P.S. For those in the trade: I bet the tailor still put "Long Roll" in his log.]

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November 21, 2005

thimble tip...

[A small bit of cloth, tied through the sewing thimble.]

When you go into the tailoring trade, one of the hardest things to learn is how to use a thimble properly i.e. with the middle sewing finger properly curved at all times.

They may be small and cheap, but thimbles are extremely useful. They allow you to sew faster, and get through hard cloths without wearing your poor fingers out.

But the proper hold takes a while to get used to, causing utter misery for many a young apprentice.

Here's a tip that was taught to Jonathan Quearney by his father, who was also a tailor. And Jonathan showed it to me.

First, cut a small, thin bit of cloth, a few inches long, and tie it like a piece of string through the thimble, as seen in the first photo above.

Next, place the thimble on your middle finger as you normally would, but wrapping the cloth around your middle knuckle, as in picture Number Two:

Thirdly, grab the needle like you normally would, as seen in the third picture. The tied cloth keeps your thimble finger in the right sewing position. After a while this position starts feeling quite normal, and you'll no longer need the cloth to aid you.

Simple and effective. Your thimble finger will be forever grateful, as will any apprentice you teach this to.

[UPDATE:] Note how we used open-ended tailor's thimbles. The "closed" thimbles (i.e. without the hole in the end) are more dressmaker's thimbles. Tailors only use thimbles pushing in from the side, so we've always had open ends. We don't really use dressmaker's thimbles- for one thing, they make the end of your finger a bit hot.

[FURTHER READING:] "Button Tip". A lovely little trick for sewing on buttons.

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November 8, 2005

the matching myth...

[The forepart and the back of a freehand cutting pattern, meeting at the shoulder seam. Note how the back part- at the bottom of the photo- is much longer than the forepart.]

This has been the bain of bespoke tailors for generations: the little detail of matching pinstripes [and chalkstripes] through the shoulder seam of a bespoke coat.

Over the years, I've had to constantly wrestle with customers to educate them that if you're tailoring a hand-made coat properly, it's practically impossible to match the stripes through the shoulder seam, if you still want it to fit properly.

And I already know that I'll receive numerous e-mails and comments from Ready-To-Wear and Made-To-Measure customers alike, arguing the very opposite.

But hear me out. First, we need to to think about the part of the body that we're trying to fit- in this case, the shoulder.

If you reach and place your hand on your shoulder as you're reading this, it should require zero medical training to realise that back of your shoulder is convex i.e. it's full, round and muscular. Whereas the front of your shoulder is much flatter, more hollw, and has more evident bone structure, with far less muscle.

So it stands to reason, if you have a shoulder width of say, six and one half inches, the material required to cover the longer curvature of the back is going to be greater than it will be at the front.

So how do we poor tailors cope?

The answer, as you shall see from the picture above, is to cut the back seam from three quarters of an inch, to an inch bigger than the front. Then with great skill from the tailor, he eases the extra fullness of the back into the shoulder seam, as seen in the photo directly below.

[The back shoulder of a suit, still under construction. Note how the cloth is being eased in.]

This is a great art, perhaps the hardest skill to acquire in the trade. This is because if the fullness is not "eased in" perfectly through the seam, it either looks clumsy and puckered, or if not enough fullness (i.e. extra cloth) is put into the seam, this causes the shoulder to feel tight and cause what we call "kinkus", which is an awful stretched appearance around the collar bone, that can also feel very uncomfortable for the poor customer.

This skill cannot be taught- it is only developed in the tailor's fingertips after a large number of years' practice. Any decent Savile Row tailor will have this art, but it will have taken them an aeon to learn it properly.

Then the fullness in the back shoulder will be shrank away by your tailor through constant pressing, so it looks smooth and perfectly shaped, like the "stripe" photo below at the bottom.

This method is very unlike the Ready-To-Wear and Made-To-Measure world, who only use a maximum of about 3/8th of an inch of extra fullness on the back shoulder- about half what Savile Row uses. Often they'll use even less.

The reason for this is, the shoulders of their garments are designed to be machined together in a matter of seconds, which often allows the stripes to match. Then with shoulderpad inserted, and other technical movements, they produce a clean but, in my opinion, an unnatural shoulderline.

In other words, because of more-or-less equal amounts of fabric in non-bespoke being used on the front and back of the seam, the stripes can more easily be matched. However, this happens at great cost to fit, style and comfort.

[Unmatching stripes at the shoulder seam- classic Savile Row bespoke.]

So now you know- when the tailor says he can't match them for you, he's actually not kidding.

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September 17, 2005

how to recognise anderson & sheppard: check the pockets

(Matched "jetting" on one of my coats: note the stripes on the jetting are perfectly aligned with the rest of the coat. Classic A&S training.)

Ok, it's pretty obvious to all English Cut readers I have a bit of soft spot for Anderson & Sheppard. Why? For one, that is where I was trained. Besides that, they are arguably the most successful firm on Savile Row, and without a doubt the most individual in style. So much so, that they aquire both love and distain in equal amounts for their single-minded approach to how a coat should be cut and made.

As fate would have it, and with my teacher, Dennis Hallbery's instruction I fell in love with this soft, natural approach to tailoring. So I'm always getting asked by people, "What exactly is this A&S style?"

This is something you can't explain so easily. There are a hundred and one things that go into the cutting and making of this type of coat that makes them so special. And even with the best technology at your disposal, no one, however hard they try, has ever truly managed to copy it successfully.

But I'm going to let you into a little secret. I can always spot an A&S coat, or an A&S influence at twenty paces. But here's a little detail that lets me know that the tailor was truly Anderson & Sheppard trained:

Nearly all coat manufactures, ready-made and bespoke alike, cut and make their pocket jettings "along" the piece of cloth. In other words, the opposite way to how the rest of the coat is cut. This makes for a strong pocket, but it's also a far easier job for the tailor, because it isn't matched perfectly with the stripe or check etc.

However, the legend goes that at a Christmas party held in A&S years ago, all the sewing tailors (the actual people who sew the coats together, as opposed to the "cutter", which is my job) turned up in their finery, eager to impress the "governors" with their tailoring skills. And as it was their own clothes, they took the extra time and tricky effort to make sure everything matched perfectly on the stripes or checks. That meant, even down to the tiny strip of cloth that hinges on the pocket flap i.e. the "jetting".

(Unmatched pocket jetting on a competitor's bespoke: note how the grain of the jetting is set ninety degrees from the rest of the coat. Tsk, tsk.)

This extra display of skill certainly impressed their governors, as intended. However it slightly backfired on them, as the cutters were all so impressed with the extra effort, that they decided they wanted all their customers coats to be made that way. Voila, a new piece of the puzzle was created. In those days Anderson's always had their parties in-house, where their secrets could be maintained and alcohol-loosened tonques could be controlled. OK, it would have been nice to mix with other tailors from the other firms, but the plus side was that management supplied all the alcohol gratis, no beer, just wine and whisky. I think the tailors needed it that evening, as they had just impressed their way into having to do even more work for their meagre pay.

It's also interesting that this method of of cutting a jetting also makes a slightly weaker pocket mouth. However, this doesn't mean that the pocket will give way in time, but more that it will eventually loosen and bow down slightly. This inadvertantly adds to the soft, draped look of this type of coat. So yes, like a fine wine, it really does get better with age.

As I've said, there are many things that make a coat, but I promise anyone who's wearing and Anderson & Sheppard coat, or one of mine, look at the pockets and that's what you'll see: properly matched jettings.

Yes, it's a tiny, tiny little detail, one that the vast majority of sartorial afficionados won't know about. But it's these tiny details that make the difference, that make A&S tailors the most respected in the world.

So now you know this litte secret; keep a look out for it. Just don't tell anyone I told you so.

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September 16, 2005

the tweed vault...

(Ray Hammet, the "curator" of the vaults at W. Bill Ltd.)

One of the biggest changes that has occured in Savile Row in the last few years is, sadly, the departure of cloth merchants who actually hold stock either on or around Savile Row.

It's the same old story- rent and rates have got so high that the cloth merchants can't afford to pay for valuable Mayfair office space, to be used for holding bolts of cloth. Although the main players are still doing well, like us tailors they now only stock the pattern bunches from which you can select your fabrics. The bolts (i.e. the hundred metre rolls) are kept elsewhere.

These small shops are all still supplying some of the finest cloths in the world, but gone are the days where you could pop round to Lessers, for example, and drape a full piece of cloth over a customer's shoulder to give an idea of the final outcome.

Happily, Smith Woolens is a super company which still offer this service. They're still local- based in Soho, the next neighborhood over- which is comforting to know. But most firms have relocated their stock to less expensive parts of the city, or even the country. Some cloths are even housed housed in warehouses abroad by some of the merchants, even though the cloths were manufactured in England.

I dont blame these guys, like everyone else they have to adapt to survive.

(A classic, georgeous tweed from W. Bill Ltd., 100% hand-woven.)

But as usual, if you know who to ask and where to look, Savile Row always has a pleasant surprise to defy modern thinking and commercial logic. One lovely example is W. Bill Ltd, established in 1846. Today they're best known in our business as THE tweed and cashmere specialists. They actually have the same owners as Smith Woolens. Any tailor worth knowing, certainly in the UK anyway, should have a relationship with both these establishments.

If you're fortunate enough to have your clothes made on the Savile Row, you may just get the chance to visit. These are not retail outlets, so don't go banging on the door, but if you're looking for a tweed or cashmere at W. Bill's, or quality worsteds at Smith's, they'll let you in, provided your tailor acts as chaperone.

I recently took a customer of mine round the corner in New Burlington Street to visit Mr. Ray Hammett, of W. Bill Ltd. Its always a lovely experience dealing with all of the guys in that basement office. My customer was looking for a Donegal tweed, but couldn't quite make up his mind. So with a two-minute walk to Ray's, a scratch of his head and a knowing "hmmmm", we were able to roll out several full pieces of beautiful hand-woven Donegal tweed to help my customer decide.

Everyone I take there is astonished to find such a cachophony of just about every type of tweed and cashmere ever woven. The way the cloths are piled up on the straining shelves reminds you of the holding vaults of ancient treasures in the British Museum. Apart from the amazing fabrics, there are little glimpses of the company's 150-year history, dotted all over the place.

Ray's not been there that long, but he's not doing badly. As a reckless young lad of 16 he joined the company in 1947. I'm sure if you work out the sums, you can assume he likes his job very much. My customer was delighted with the hand-woven cloth he eventually chose. And so was I, once I first saw the hand-made coat it was turned into:

(The tweed from W Bill Ltd., turned into my customer's coat.)

I always chuckle, as on our departure Ray always asks about the weather. I know this is a famously English obsession, but Ray actually means it. Bearing in mind he's locked in a basement all day with no windows, it's understandable. Maybe that's why he looks so good- he loves his work and dosen't let all that aging sunshine anywhere near his face.

Once again, it's people like Ray that make me adore this little street they call Savile Row.

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July 19, 2005

button tip...

(All you need to sew on a button- needle, thread, thimble... and half a matchstick.)

Even if you pay £2000 for a suit, the sad fact is that buttons do fall off, even the ones sewn on by hand by the best Savile Row tailors.

Now I don't think for a moment that the ladies and gentlemen who read English Cut are incapable of sewing a button on. But as with everything in life, there's a right way and a wrong way to do it.

Sewing a button on correctly is particularly important with the key button on a coat, the middle waist-fastening button (With Savile Row you only button the middle button; never the top or the bottom).

The secret here is to sew the button on with enough "shank" (the amount of space allowed by the thread, between the button and the coat). Ideally you want a quarter-inch shank. Anything more makes the button droopy, anything less can make the front of your suit look too tight, even downright awful.

Yes, even something as minor as this can create a serious problem.

Obviously the Savile Row tailors will have sewn on thousands of buttons in their time, so getting the right amount of shank is easy for them. But what if you're a novice?

Here's a great tip:

Get yourself a standard wooden match, and break it in half. Place it over the top of the button, then thread the button around it, as seen in the following picture.

(nearly there)

Then once the button is good and sewn, pull the match away... the slack created by where the match used to be will give the thread that extra length needed to get the correct shank. Then finish the job by wrapping the remainder of the thread around the shank, and sewing through. Just like you would normally.

(Sewn-on button with quarter-inch shank. Voila! You learn something new every day,)

It's a simple trick, but it works every time.

PS : Ideally, you should run the thread through a piece of beeswax before sewing, or use prewaxed thread.

First, this waterproofs the thread. Secondly, beeswax acts as a lubricant, allowing the thread to be sewn in more gently. Both help to prolong the the length of time the button will stay on.

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