I’m getting pretty excited about this Camps de Luca suit now. Not only will it be one of the most beautifully made suits I own – coming from a Parisian tailor – but also one of the most versatile.

In both those ways it is similar to the navy Cifonelli three-piece I had made last year. That too was a piece of extraordinary craftsmanship (top stitching on an almost absurd number of seams, particularly around the waistcoat). But in retrospect the cloth was too light. At 9oz it is too light for a British autumn/winter, and something heavier would be fine most of the spring/summer.

A reader recently asked about buying his first bespoke or MTM suit, and particularly ways to make it last longer. He had the right idea in getting two pairs of trousers, but I also recommended choosing a cloth that was at least 13oz. This should be the standard weight for most everyday suits – rather than the 9 or 11oz most commonly sold. The weight will be barely noticeable, but it will hang and last much better.
 

 
The cloth used here is a 13oz grey pick-and-pick. A mid-grey like this is tremendously versatile: it is equally at home with white, blue and pink shirts, with plains and stripes, both casual and formal. The pick-and-pick weave gives some surface interest to the material without being as strong as a stripe or check, and therefore limiting the other patterns that can be worn with it.

The lime-green tie and blue shirt combination was picked to go with a navy suit, but actually works well with the  mid-grey as well. 

In the fitting, it was good to see Marc de Luca fitting the collar of the jacket tight to the back of my neck. The Camps de Luca style is for a slightly square neck, with a slimmer collar and squarer shoulders than most tailors (you can see the amount of shoulder padding in the image above). A thicker, rounded back neck – particularly seen at Anderson & Sheppard – is much easier to wrap around the neck and keep it there, no matter what your physical convulsions. The fitting at the neck on the Camps style is therefore particularly important.

Thanks to Marc de Luca (pictured), for his quiet humour and persistent modesty, and here’s looking forward to the final product.  
 

 Images: Luke Carby

 
Although I decided to have my first Milanese suit made at Ferdinando Caraceni (see previous post), I’ve visited and got to know Carlo and Massimiliano Andreacchio at A Caraceni as well. Between them, they are the highest form of central-Italian tailoring left in the country.

A. Caraceni was founded by Augusto Caraceni, younger brother to Domenico. He started the Paris branch of the firm in 1935 and became one of the best-known tailors in the city, before being forced to leave at the start of World War Two.

This cross-pollination between Italy and France is the major reason the tailoring styles are so similar today – softer construction than the English, but with a stronger shoulder and narrow waist. Although there are significant differences between Cifonello and Camps de Luca in Paris, and the Caracenis in Milan and Rome, they are all more similar to each than to London or Naples.
 

 
 
Augusto opened in Milan in 1946 under the name A. Caraceni; he handed onto his son Mario in 1972; and in 1998 Mario handed over to his daughter Rita and her husband Carlo Andreacchio. Carlo and his son Massimiliano, pictured top, are now the two cutters at A. Caraceni. 

“We have continued the style of Augusto and Mario throughout the years,” Carlo told me when I visited earlier in the year. “I think the only exception today is that we cut a slightly narrower lapel – perhaps narrower than some of the other Caracenis – and overall we are more open to customer suggestions and requests.”

“In this age you have to be more flexible, yet retain that style that links you to your heritage,” adds Massimiliano. His style is a good example of this (see details in bottom picture), with a classic Caraceni jacket make up in denim-looking wool/silk cloth and some colourful accessories.

“The style is still tight through the waist,” continues Massimiliano. “That’s a feature of a lot of Milanese tailors – trying to make the man looks his best, his sharpest, in tailoring. In fact, there is a story that one of the tailors here refused to make for any man that was overweight, as his suits wouldn’t look as good.”
 

 
“There’s still a lovely collegiate atmosphere among the Milanese tailors, even though there are fewer of them than there used to be,” adds Carlo. “They used to all meet up at Bar Campari in Piazza Duomo on a Friday night, to talk about the industry. It always ran late because no one wanted to leave – they knew that as soon as they did everyone else would start talking about them.”

Caraceni has a very similar feel to the Parisian tailors such as Camps de Luca and Cifonelli. It is large (30 tailors and the two cutters, with five of those tailors offsite) and situated on the first floor of the building, with some lovely heirlooms around the place. Carlo mentioned that they recently blocked off part of the floor to make an office and every single customer that came in commented on it. For them, he says, it is still a home from home – as tailors should be.

Caraceni suits are – as I commented with Ferdinando Caraceni – some of the most stylish in the world. Their combination of soft construction, classic shoulders and shorter length makes them feel very contemporary: what most RTW companies today are trying to achieve, but with far less success. 
 

 
Over the past couple of years I have got to know several of Spain’s leading tailors fairly well, particularly Langa, Reillo and Calvo de Mora.

Spanish tailors can be characterised as flexible and value for money, particularly given the amount of handwork involved. Their only potential weaknesses are flipsides of both those points: lacking an identifiable house style as a result of that flexibility, and concentrating on handwork rather than precision.
 

 
Most Spanish tailors are small. Langa and Reillo have one cutter (Joaquin Fernandez and Jose Maria Reillo respectively – shown top, at right, and bottom of the post respectively) and Calvo de Mora has one main cutter and one in training (Manuel Calvo de Mora and his son Alberto – far left and second left above). There are only two or three other tailors in Madrid (Larrainzar most notably) and few in other major cities (just one in Barcelona). Most don’t do all making onsite.

This size is driven by the small market for tailoring in Spain, which in turn explains the two factors mentioned above. The tailors are flexible because they have to adapt to a range of clients and to changing demands. They all make a strong shoulder, a soft shoulder and a Neapolitan shoulder, for example. They are all willing to offer lined and unlined jackets, as well as fractions in between.

This can be a refreshing change from the narrowness of Savile Row, and there are few tailors in Italy who could make that range of shoulders with confidence. But it does mean every consultation begins with a very open ‘so what would you like?’
  

 
Madrid tailors are cheap. Suits cost €1800, €2000 and €2500 at Langa, Reillo and Calvo respectively, and the handwork involved is just as high as a Savile Row or Milanese suit, if not higher.

The chests are all hand-padded and the collar, sleeves and so on attached by hand (of course). But the lining is also often stitched by hand and there is particular attention to detail around points like the internal breast pockets.

However, now and again the precision of that handwork can slip a little. Anyone that has spent any time sewing will know that the challenge is not doing it by hand, but doing it so finely as to make it appear almost machine-made. Parisian tailors achieve this to a phenomenal level. English tailors often use sewing machines where it is cleaner and stronger than handwork. Neapolitans do a lot of handwork, but can be a little rough with the finishing.

In places the Spanish can have something in common with their brethren from Naples. (Interestingly, Spanish is closer to the Neapolitan dialect than Italian, as I discovered when everyone started speaking happily amongst themselves at the latest Aristocrata meeting.) I am having suits or jackets made by all three of the Spanish tailors mentioned here, however, so I will provide ample opportunity for you to judge for yourself the quality of the work.

The first should be in a couple of weeks: a brown linen suit from Joaquin at Langa. This is particularly relevant because Joaquin is the youngest of the cutters and plans to start visiting London soon, along with Mariano, the superb shirtmaker at the same house (pictured above). 

 

 
When I was in Milan two weeks ago I had a first and second fitting with Ferdinando Caraceni in a day. This isn’t something that all tailors are happy doing, but for some such as Caraceni – which has a lot of foreign clients hoping to have suits made in as few visits as possible – it is quite practical.

Indeed, it’s interesting the different ways tailors try to minimise a customer’s visits. Cifonelli regularly makes a fitting in waste material on the same day as taking measurements. Reillo in Madrid did this with me also. Camps de Luca uses a fitting jacket stitched with a matrix of lines, in order to try and get the balance of a jacket right straight away.
 
 

 
All of these tailors are trying to achieve the same thing: get the fundamental balance right (front to back, side to side) so it doesn’t have to be adjusted at the basted fitting.

Caraceni, on the other hand, prefers to have two stabs at the basted fitting. With fittings at 10am and 4pm, the jacket cannot be advanced from a basted to a forward stage. But corrections made in the morning can be confirmed and refined in the afternoon, so that when the forward comes it will be pretty-much perfect.
 
 

 
I will still require one more visit to Caraceni at some point, but the total number of visits should be reduced by one. Reillo, actually, also did two basted fittings on my second visit to Madrid, while Langa a few blocks further North did a basic fitting in the linen I had chosen, as they had it on site.

The Caraceni fitting itself was good, with intense discussion between Nicoletta (pictured top) and her cutter about the minutiae of shoulder size, as well as a familiar debate (for me) about how to cope with my hollow lower back.

 
Perhaps most importantly, I was very happy with the cloth I had chosen – a Cerruti herringbone in salt-and-pepper cashmere (carried by Dugdale). It’s the kind of jacket I should have had made years ago: versatile, mid-weight, equally at happy with jeans or flannels, quietly sophisticated in its cut and cloth; the kind of jacket that will simply look good to most people, and a beautiful slice of bespoke to those that know.

A good argument for point 1 in the Five Tips on Bespoke Suits.
 
 

Photos: Luke Carby

 
While in Milan earlier in the year I had a chance to catch up with Gianfrancesco Musella-Dembech, whose family run a small bespoke operation in Milan.

Mother, father and son all work in the same room, which is also part of their appartment. Although they also use an external trouser maker, this is the hub of activity. Patterns are being cut on one table by Gianfrancesco (the son), while mother and father work on a jacket behind him. 

The three are wonderfully welcoming and have a good number of yarns to tell, given that the father, Francesco Musella (above) has been intertwined with several aspects of the story of north Italian tailoring.
 

 
Let’s unwind a little of that story. Francesco worked as a cutter for the tailoring houses of Baratta, Giuseppe Colovito and Donnini e Caraceni. In this case that Caraceni is Augusto, and although we know his name, Francesco reminds us that Mario Donnini was just as important in the Donnini e Caraceni partnership. Indeed for Francesco, Donnini was the master: perhaps the most important cutter in the whole north-Italian tradition. Gianni Agnelli was a Donnini customer on San Babila, and Francesco is particularly proud of his work for Agnelli while he was there.

As for Giuseppe Colovito, he ran a separate atelier in Milan, and was an heir to Cesare Tosi – again, one of the most important and often forgotten names in Milanese tailoring. Baratta, meanwhile, was a key influence and a name that was bought out by the Campagna family along with Domenico Caraceni.
 

 
The Musella family’s style today is rooted in the north-Italian cut of all these names, with a few idiosyncratic details such as two broad rows of stitching across the top of patched chest pockets. The structure is lighter than other Milanese tailors, but the style is not Neapolitan, despite suggestions elsewhere. Other things that distinguish it are: a carefully worked shoulder, that sits close all round and is slightly forward of most cuts; a full sleeve with an egg-shaped crown; unflapped pockets on suits; high-waisted trousers with two pleats; 5cm turn-ups; and curved rear trouser pockets.

Francesco has been key in the development of his son as a cutter, helping him develop his first patterns and still supervising all his work today. Gianfrancesco, on the other hand, has been very effective at spreading the name of the family firm. They have a popular website-cum-blog with regular updates on work, and have received a lot of attention online (particularly for polo-collared sweaters developed by the aunt).

If you like the style, they’re certainly worth visiting in Milan. Two-piece suits start at €3500.
 

 
Tobacco brown’s a nice colour, isn’t it? Definitely informal – due to its lightness and saturation – yet with a quiet sophistication. Colonial, particularly in linen, but without the baggage of cream or tan.

This is 8-ounce from Scabal (801490). Ideally it would be heavier, closer to 13 ounces, but I’m willing to trade a little weight for great colour.

The suit was made by Sastreria Langa, one of the tailors in Madrid I commissioned from back in July. Joaquin Fernandez is the cutter: a relatively young guy but with a lot of experience (having started at the age of 16). He is also one of the few Spanish tailors that speaks any English (the Calvo de Mora sons being the others).

Joaquin is deliberately creative and broad in his technique, making both normal and shirt-shoulder jackets, and with a penchant for bright or strongly patterned linings. I avoided those with this suit – it’s not my style, and anyway the cloth has enough character on its own.
 

 
Initially, Joaquin was impressive. I flew into Madrid one evening with the arrangement to be measured and fitted on several things the next day. The tailors all knew the cloth in advance, so the idea was they would measure me in the morning and cut a rough, first fitting for the afternoon.

Joaquin did this flawlessly. The fundamentals of the fit were great – balance, neck, pitch etc were all spot on. We slimmed the trousers down a little and narrowed the waist on the jacket, but that was it.

The second time I went to Madrid, the idea was to have a forward fitting in the morning, another in the afternoon if the tailor wanted it, and then to have the jacket sent went finished. Joaquin misunderstood, and when I arrived in the morning the whole suit was finished.

That wasn’t a problem in terms of fit, as the first fitting had been so good, but there were a couple of style issues – particularly the shoulder, which was a normal rather than shirt-shoulder. (I wasn’t a fan of Joaquin’s regular shoulder style, which is a little extended and almost kicks up at the end.)

To wrap up a rather long story, changing the shoulder took much longer than a day, so it wasn’t until the suit arrived in London that I saw it completed. Perhaps inevitably, the execution wasn’t ideal: the excess at the top of one sleeve was greater than the other, making the shoulder appear wider.
 

 
The difference is barely noticeable now. Linen is a very forgiving material, and as soon as the jacket had been worn a couple of times the sleeve wrinkled up and the discrepancy was gone. Still, that wouldn’t have happened on a worsted, and there are a couple of signs of similar lapses elsewhere. The side-straps on the trousers don’t function perfectly, and some of the finishing inside is a little rough.

I love this suit, primarily for the colour. But it’s also well fitted, and given that Langa only charges €1800 (plus VAT, in Spain), with as much hand work as anything on Savile Row (though not always in the same places), it’s also extremely good value. I would just suggest a slightly less rushed fitting process, and careful attention to the details.

More details later in the week.

Shoes: Edward Green Top Drawer oundles in bronze; shirt also from Langa; navy 9cm grenadine tie from Drake’s.
 

 
Photography: Luke Carby

 
Some close-up details here on the linen suit from Sastreria Langa that we featured earlier in the week. You can see a few of the tailoring idiosyncrasies, as well as the cloth and work itself in more detail.

Langa include both a label for their own brand and one describing the cloth on the inside of the jacket. I’d prefer to not have the former, but can live with it, while the latter is worth avoiding – it stems from an assumption with smaller tailors that the cloth merchant is more prestigious than they are. There are also embroidered initials, which are decently done. 

One shortcut with the make is the insert around the in-breast pockets, which can be seen in the close-up at the bottom of this post. The cloth is cut, rather than continuing seamlessly around the pocket, which is a lot easier to do but a little bit of a shame aesthetically.

That image also shows the top stitching on the lining around these pockets. It’s nice to have this by hand (most English tailors don’t bother) but it is a little wobbly in places.
  

On the image of the trouser’s side strap you can see that the lining of the waistband is attached by machine. This is a peculiarity, as I have yet to use a tailor that does this by machine. Even the cheaper tailors like Graham Browne tack this by hand, considering that it makes the waistband more comfortable.

A bigger issue is the side strap itself, the length of which makes it prone to slipping. A shorter strap can hold the cloth underneath it more easily, and that’s particularly needed on linen. You can also see that the strap has a little keeper on the left, which isn’t particularly well placed – it covers the strap and makes it hard to pull. On the plus side, the pointed design and handwork around the points is attractive.

Elsewhere there are some nice touches. The swelled edges around the lapel and out-breast pocket are well done, and there are two neat change pockets on the trousers, just under the waistband.

As with the style and fit, discussed in Tuesday’s post, there is room for improvement here but it remains a very good-value suit.

 
In Paris this week, seeing a few lovely people at Cifonelli, Camps de Luca, Caron and Mes Chaussettes. Again with the Cs.

The Camps de Luca suit needs one more fitting, while the Cifonelli overcoat is almost ready, even if it’s not cold enough to wear it yet. The latter has been a year in the making so particularly excited about it. I’d like to say the waiting makes it sweeter, but I’d be lying. 

Pictured, button selection at Camps de Luca. Three shades of grey horn, plus brown/grey, blue horn, green horn, polished and matte, then there’s corozo and wood. Love the French attention to finishing.

 
The Lasa service from Kiton is being offered as part of the Made-to-Measure service at Harrod’s (the last event was this past weekend), but may actually be closer to bespoke. Indeed, the question highlights the few points of ambiguity in that distinction.

Lasa includes a lot more handwork that Kiton’s ready-made and other made-to-measure options. The chest is hand-padded for one thing, which nothing else in the range is. It is also cut individually, to an individual pattern. But then, oddly all Kiton suits – even ready-to-wear – are cut individually. This makes special orders or MTM much easier, but it also means there is little difference when you step up to ‘bespoke’, which some would classify Lasa as.
 

The difference, perhaps, is in who is measuring and fitting you. On this score, Kiton quickly falls down. My measurements and order were taken by Gabriele Napoletano, the master cutter from Naples, back in April. But the fitting was conducted by Riccardo Renzi, the manager of the Mayfair store. A lovely man, and a friend, but not a cutter by any means. The second fitting – which admittedly required very few adjustments – was conducted by Harrod’s staff.

So I never met the cutter, but that isn’t necessarily a requirement of bespoke. Yes, you would want it 99% of the time, but several of the Savile Row houses have sales people conducting fittings. Simon Cundey at Henry Poole and Brian Lishak at Richard Anderson both do so for parts of their US trips. Both are hugely experienced; but they are not cutters.

 
No, Kiton fell down because of the quality of the people conducting the fittings – although the effect on the fit itself wasn’t necessarily what you’d expect. The pictures here are from the first fitting, with Riccardo. Oddly, they got the hard things right but the easy things wrong.

The shape around the neck and balance on the shoulders, for example, was good. But it was three inches too big in the waist – as the pinning in the first image illustrates. The jacket was at least an inch too short in the body, and the sleeves around the same.

The second fitting was much better, but then these are all easy things to fix – in the sense of MTM vs bespoke, where length and width are straightforward, but curves and twists are not. It suggests miscommunication somewhere along the line.

I’ll post on the final jacket in a couple of weeks, though it’s hard to recommend on this basis. More interesting among the Harrod’s offerings may be the Boglioli MTM, which has just started there and at Trunk (unfortunately no washed cottons).

  
Decent made to measure. That’s how I would describe this final jacket from Kiton – made for me as part of the Harrod’s MTM events and described in previous posts on the commissioning and fitting. 

The basics are all there – sleeve length correct, waist nicely suppressed, shoulders a little narrow as you’d expect on Neapolitan. Most impressive is that the collar fits so well across the neck, which you’d usually only get on bespoke.

But elsewhere it’s very apparent this is not bespoke. Despite my rather slouchy posture above, the poor impression of the line from the waist up into the armhole is accurate. The bottom picture also clearly shows that the fit of the back should be better – it’s collapsing on either side.
  

 
This is a very lightweight cloth, and some wrinkling as well as poor drape should be taken into account. But the small imperfections here and there are still easy to see. A decent MTM fit, but given that it costs over £4000, no competitor for bespoke.

This is a pity, because I like the material (as mentioned in the initial post). The silver-and-white weave is distinctive without being too showy, and it works well with a basic white-and-navy outfit. (Polo shirt from Luca Avitabile, handkerhief from Simonnot-Godard and chinos from Incotex.) 

Another pale grey jacket would work in a similar combination. The simplicity of the whole brings out that textural detail in the cloth.

Incidentally, the three-roll-two on the front buttons is done nicely – and that shouldn’t be taken for granted. The tightness of the collar and the position of the canvas have to be spot on for it to work well. It comes naturally to most Italian tailors, but others struggle. It’s one thing I’d fault my Anderson & Sheppard suits for, for example. The position of the top button stops the lapel from rolling, ruining the line. 
 

Pictures: Luke Carby

 
I’m pleased to say that Spanish tailors Langa will be coming to London for the first time later this month, setting up shop in Holland & Sherry on Savile Row on November 24th and 25th. 

The cutter Joaquin Fernandez made me the tobacco-linen suit above earlier in the year – for the very reasonable amount of £1900. More details on the suit here, and details of the make here. The shirtmaker, Mariano, is also a superb shirt cutter. His style is more English than Italian (floating collar linings usually, for example) but with a lot more handwork. Review on his shirts coming soon. 

If anyone would like to make an appointment with Langa, the contact is info@sastrerialanga.com. 

They will be available 10am-7pm on Monday 24th, and 10am-2pm on Tuesday 25th. Feel free to simply make an appointment to meet them and talk about a commission, or see their work first hand. 

For those interested in starting the process now, the team plan to return every five weeks, so no longer to wait for a fitting than with most English tailors. Prices start at £1900 for a suit and £200 for a shirt.

 
Martin Nicholls, the cutter at Dunhill in London, has had a fascinating career. Trained at Huntsman under Hammick and Hall, he worked at Gieves and Norton’s, headed up the bespoke department at Harrod’s, and launched Hackett’s bespoke offering on the Row. 

It’s hard today to imagine either of the last two having a bespoke department. Indeed, Martin’s career demonstrates what short memories we often have, and yet how quick we are to jump to conclusions about the death of the industry. 

Dunhill are investing a good deal more in bespoke tailoring – they’ve had an offering for a long time, but Martin only moved on site at Bourdon House a few months ago. It also follows the introduction of bespoke leather goods with our friend Tomasz, of course. 

You can read more about Martin and Dunhill in my most recent column for How to Spend It, which gave a little depth to the magazine’s charity auction of bespoke and made-to-measure suits. 

Above: model wearing Dunhill’s entry for the auction

 
This suit is from Jose Maria Reilo, the second of the three Spanish tailors I commissioned from in 2014. The make is good, although there are one or two issues with the fit that I’ll come to in a moment.

The suit is green cotton gabardine – an interesting option for summer, and of course now is when bespoke customers should start thinking about summer styles. Guys buying ready-to-wear have a few more months to think about it.
 

 
Jose Maria is a lovely, self-effacing man, who founded his tailoring house in 1974. He doesn’t speak any English, but fortunately both times I visited a friend was able to translate. He works with his wife in a small atelier on Calle del Monte Esquinza, just off Plaza de Colon – new premises since I first, visited, back in 2012.

The three Spanish tailors took three different approaches to the fact that I was only visiting Madrid twice to have these pieces made. Langa cut a fitting straight out of the cloth, in order to have a fitting the same day as taking measurements; Calvo de Mora visited London in order to conduct one fitting; and Reillo took the more standard approach of cutting a first fitting out of waste cloth.

Those three approaches didn’t seem to have any bearing on the fit, with Calvo de Mora perhaps the best. I’ll cover the jacket and waistcoat I had made there next week.
 

 
As with all the Spanish tailors, the level of handwork on Reillo’s suit was very good: hand felling all around the lining; nice finishing on the change pocket on the trousers; smartly finished side-straps.  

In common with Langa, however, there were also one or two places where the lines weren’t that accurate. In the image of the in-breast pocket above, for example, the corners of the lining where they turn to follow the pocket aren’t quite the same. The bottom is much smoother than the top. This may seem like a small thing, but it’s the kind of detail you get used to being bang-on with most Savile Row tailoring, to the point where you take it for granted.
 

 
The fit is good almost everywhere, as the images show to some extent. Cotton is not an easy cloth to work with, and Jose Maria has done very well.

The issue with cotton is not that it’s hard to tailor, but that the finished results rarely look as good as wool. You get big, hard folds, as you can see around the elbow here, for example. And although the fit through the waist on this suit is very good, the tiniest move in the body makes the whole side buckle. 

I would praise Reillo’s cutting in almost every other respect, therefore – except along the shoulder seam. Here, for lightweight suits as this, he uses absolutely no padding – just a little wadding at the sleeve head. This is obviously light and comfortable, but there are wrinkles along the seam on both sides. It is characteristic of the difficulties of photographing these things that those wrinkles appear almost invisible in the image above, yet are more significant than any of the other creases. 

I noticed this wrinkling on one or two other summer jackets, so it’s not just mine. It doesn’t seem to happen on heavier constructions (still light by English standards) however, so it is also just associated with this construction. 

I’d like to repeat that elsewhere the fit was top-notch, with the trousers so good that I considered ordering more separate ones in the same cut. Elements of the style such as the lapel width and line were also really nice. 

I’ll write a separate post on cotton suits in general, and this one as a summer option, later in the week. 
 

 Photography: Jack Lawson

  
For the reader who commented that my pieces on Cifonelli tend towards the emotional, I apologise in advance. This is a beautiful, beautiful coat, and one of the finest things I have ever worn.

Right, that’s over. Down to details. This is the navy cashmere overcoat I commissioned from Cifonelli at the end of the 2013. When it became clear that we were not going to finish it before the end of the winter, the project was put on hold until September 2014. It was finished in October, and I have been wearing in regularly every since.

Readers will be familiar by now with the peerless work of Cifonelli, one of the finest bespoke tailors in the world. The fit, of course, is always spot on, and the bespoke make – hand-padded canvas, hand-made rope – we now take for granted. But the thing that always separates Cifonelli (and one or two other makers, such as Camps de Luca) is the hand-finishing. The Milanese buttonholes (below); the endless, pointless top stitching. 
 

 
That finishing deserves a post all of its own. And if readers will indulge me, perhaps I will write one (with some detailed photos).

For the moment, however, I wanted to focus on the functionality of a double-breasted overcoat. Because let’s face it, most of us wear the collars of our overcoats up. And a DB, with peaked lapels, often doesn’t work well with a popped collar – the peaks poke us in the chin, and certainly won’t button closed.

From the start, therefore, I made it clear to Lorenzo Cifonelli that this DB must work as well buttoned as un-. It must sit elegantly, smartly, with only the central two of the six buttons fastened. This is the normal, formal arrangement, with collar down.

But when the collar is raised, the lapels (or revers) reversed, it must button at the top row of the six, and then again under the chin, creating a perfect, smooth shield against the elements (below). This style is not new, but it is hard to execute effectively, and it is to Lorenzo’s eternal credit that he managed to cut the front edge so that it encompassed all six buttons with collar raised, yet looked equally elegant with collar lowered.
 

 
In fact, I realise now that I was so keen to demonstrate this point that I forgot to take any pictures of the coat with the collar down. One more reason for another post I suppose.

The back of the coat has a fixed half belt, with pleats above and below – topped with the distinctive Cifonelli arrowhead, painstakingly hand-stitched. The smaller pleats to left and right frame the central cuts nicely.
 

 
As with many overcoats, there is a compromise between cutting the shoulders to fit everything from a Chittleborough & Morgan suit to a sweater underneath. Lorenzo and I pitched this one right in the middle, and I elected to photograph it only wearing knitwear to show the effects of that compromise (above). You can see how the lack of suit shoulders causes the back to collapse slightly at the sides – but the compromise cut mitigates the effect. If it had been cut purely for a suit, the effect would have been much greater. 

Elsewhere, I went for patch, postbox pockets. I like the casual look of patch pockets and the flap is cut to slip inside easily, allowing the pockets to be used for warming the hands without having to lift up the flap each time.
  

  
The buttonholes are finely but very tightly stitched – necessary when all of them might be in regular use. And I am consistently impressed with how the Milanese buttonholes on the lapel retain their long, straight line, even when used to button under the chin. The dusted, dark-brown horn buttons are, naturally, Lorenzo’s particular design.

Finally, a word must go to the fabulous cloth: 22oz cashmere from Harrison’s. Few people do decent weight cashmere overcoating any more – and most in the market are Loro Piana and a lot more expensive.
  

 
Photos: Jack Lawson

  
This is the third of the commissions I made with Spanish tailors earlier last year. It is a lightweight donegal jacket, from Calvo de Mora. It is probably the best of the three, and the most expensive. Funny how those things often go together.*

The Calvo de Mora make, like the other Spanish tailors, is light but heavier than the Neapolitans. There is a definite shoulder pad and structure to the chest, but neither approach the English level of canvas and padding.

The shoulders, as a result, are quite natural, with a tiny lift towards the end. The 3-roll-2 buttoning works quite fluidly, but with the top button entirely hidden in the roll. The lapel is wider than most contemporary styles (3.75 inches) but as with many of these elements, Calvo de Mora will make any width required. I deliberately asked for the house style for illustrative purposes. 

One distinctive but subtle aspect of the Calvo jacket is the lack of skirt. Although the foreparts are quite open below the waist button, the sides sit close to the hips. In a shortish, casual jacket like this I like that style. A longer, flared skirt works better in more formal jackets (like my Huntsman**), or suits (like my Chittleborough & Morgan). 
 

 
The finishing is very good – and it is this as well as little points of fit which elevate it above the other two Spanish tailors (Reillo and Langa). The back is beautifully smooth – which you can’t really see on the photo below, given I’m turning my head. That distorts the drape around the hips too. 

Calvo suits start at €2500, which puts them the most expensive of this Spanish collection but I think great value for money. They have visited London once, and are making plans to do so again. Contact the team on their website for details. 

It may well occur to readers that this jacket is very similar to the one I am having made at Ferdinando Caraceni. That is slightly lighter, cashmere and herringbone, but it is still pretty similar. The only explanation I have is that I realised last year I was definitely missing mid-grey jackets in my wardrobe (they’re just so versatile), and I didn’t know how this one would turn out. 
 

 
I also had a waistcoat (pale grey wool, with wool back) and dark-green cotton trousers made by Calvo, but more on those in another post.

In the rest of this outfit, by the way: blue linen shirt by Luca Avitabile; black knitted tie by Drake’s, brown/black/white silk handkerchief by Tom Ford; and (as with the pea coat shoot) trousers by Chittleborough & Morgan with Edward Green Top Drawer shoes. 

Photography: Julian Anderson

*Or perhaps it is consistency of quality. Certainly, I have found on- an off-Savile Row that the more expensive houses deliver better quality (make and fit) more consistently.

**I finally had my Huntsman jacket fixed last week, after David Ward had failed to match the checks originally, either at the belt or collar. Pat Murphy managed to rectify both points, as well as improve the action back. 

 
My last ‘reflections on bespoke’ post back in January was very popular. Readers seemed to respond to the assessment of bespoke commissions with the wisdom of hindsight, and I have to say I sympathise.

Here, then, are five more, with the items selected by those readers.
 

Tweed jacket from Steven Hitchcock

It was interesting that most readers’ requests were for reflections on bespoke tailoring. The mid-blue tweed jacket I had made by Steven Hitchcock in 2012 has only improved with age in terms of fit, but perhaps less so in terms of material. 

Steven, having trained at Anderson & Sheppard, cuts jackets in a drape style. This adds chest to the wearer and is wonderfully comfortable. I commissioned this particular jacket in a two-button stance, and I would recommend it over the 3-roll-2 variety. My other drape jackets were cut in that latter style (by Steven’s father, John) and I’ve never quite liked the way it rolls, which is somehow compromised compared to the Italians. The top button naturally sits half-turned, and pushes out the lapel where it does so. 

Style-wise, the blue tweed is wonderful – the least old-mannish tone you will ever find. But the gauntlet cuffs were probably a mistake (nice, but they don’t really fit with the style) and I should have chosen darker buttons (must get those changed…).

RucTote from J Panther

J Panther is a New York company that makes beautiful bags with often innovative details. The RucTote is a good example, as it can be carried in the hand, on the shoulder or as a ruc-sack, all with different permutations of the handles. 

It is also very well made. Luke (Carby, photographer) has used his far more than me – perhaps punished it, rather – and it has held up very well. The bridle leather has softened nicely, the canvas worn well and the hardware and zippers never failed.

The only design issue on the RucTote is that the long strap on one side (where it can be pulled through to make a backpack) rather suffers from pulling on the bottom of the bag rather than being secured at the top. A minor irritation, not a major fault. 

Navy suit from Cifonelli

The navy suit I had made by superlative French tailors Cifonelli is a thing of beauty. I can understand why someone wouldn’t want that in a day-to-day suit – or rather, be prepared to pay extra for it – but that’s what it is and how it should be seen. Beautifully fitting and exquisitely made. 

I would make a general comment on the Cifonelli cut, however, which is that it is better suited to more formal clothing. It is perfect for my navy suit, or cashmere coat, but worked less well with my first commission – a Harris tweed jacket. Despite Cifonelli’s soft chest and shoulder, the roping of the sleevehead always gives its tailoring a touch of drama, which doesn’t necessarily sit well with informal clothing. 

Horn glasses by Tom Davies

I had two pairs of glasses made by Tom Davies, whom I got to know through my neighbour, Jake. They were both very well made, and I am a big fan of his process. He is a great example of why Made in China can actually mean the very best quality, rather than the worst. 

My word of caution, however, would be to stick closely to Tom’s existing designs and models. We didn’t really do that with either of my bespoke commissions, and I regretted it. A change of just one millimetre in a frame can transform a look – there is perhaps less margin for error than with anything else I write about. And while I love my horn glasses and my sunglasses, I don’t wear them as much as my Francois Pintons.

Cashmere suit from Vergallo

Vergallo, a small tailor from the town of Varese in Italy, makes a lovely suit and – at £2000 at the time – a very good value one. I wouldn’t say that I would select it over other favourites from Italy, such as Elia Caliendo or Ferdinando Caraceni, but then they are a lot more expensive. 

I wouldn’t recommend using 100% cashmere in a suit ever, however. The jacket still works beautifully as a blazer, but the trousers immediately lost any shape and refused to get it back. They’re more akin to tracksuit bottoms than suit trousers. The next hot thing on the catwalk, perhaps?

A few weeks ago, a reader made the point that all my adventures with bespoke tailors could give the impression that this is the optimum way to build a wardrobe. That’s certainly not the case.

The process of bespoke tailoring is about building a relationship with a tailor. Initially, so that they understand your body and its various peculiarities. The second suit will take fewer fittings than the first, once the tailor has developed an effective pattern while making the first one.

There’s a good chance that the second suit will fit ever-so-slightly better. And it will certainly be more satisfying in other ways – in cut, in cloth or in style. It’s virtually impossible to get all these decisions right the first time, or for the tailor to interpret your various requests and reactions.

The virtue, then, of having one tailor (‘my tailor’) is that this process becomes quicker, easier and more enjoyable over time. I had eight suits cut by John Hitchcock at Anderson & Sheppard before he retired, and by the end it was a process that needed almost no communication. I might spend a good hour browsing fabric books, but in the fitting room I was merely a mannequin – confirmation of a well-oiled technique.

That doesn’t mean a man should only have one tailor. People trade up over time; they may try an alternative, even just for context; and most importantly, they might want different styles.
 

 
Unsurprisingly, the first question most people in the industry ask me is ‘who’s your favourite tailor?’ There’s no simple answer to that, as readers will well understand, but you can certainly make a quick and easy argument for having different styles.

I would suggest, as a start, that a man could have:

• One good Neapolitan tailor, for casual jackets that work with jeans and chinos
  • eg Elia Caliendo
  • or if slightly smarter, a drape cut like A&S
• One ultra-structured tailor, for evening wear or black tie
  • e.g. Chittleborough & Morgan
  • or Gieves/Huntsman for a less striking look
• And one everyday tailor, assuming you wear suits most days, with the style depending on taste
  • I’d pick Cifonelli or Anderson & Sheppard
  • or an Italian like Caraceni or Liverano to be a touch more casual

So you can certainly justify three. I’ve tried far more than that, partly out of curiosity and partly out of the pursuits of this site. But it’s not the route I would recommend.

Images courtesy of Gieves & Hawkes from ‘The Invention of the English Gentleman‘

 
Parisian tailors Camps de Luca are moving premises, after 50 years overlooking Place de la Madeleine. Their new home is at 16 Rue de la Paix, near to Place Vendome. 

To say goodbye, they put together this video showing the stages of bespoke suit making. For anyone that has never seen this first hand, and particularly for those that have never seen the French levels of handwork, it’s worth a look. 

You can see my personal experiences at Camps de Luca, including suit fittings and details, here. Off to Paris next week for the final fitting, so fingers crossed it will be ready soon.

 
It was announced today that Huntsman has hired Campbell Carey as the new head cutter, to try and fill the hole left by Pat Murphy, who officially leaves this month for Davies & Son. Pat worked for many years at Davies before joining Huntsman. 

Campbell was head cutter at Kilgour and Hayward previously, although both are smaller houses. He will also be joined by Robert Bailey, who comes across from Davies & Son. Bailey will be particularly targeted on growing Huntsman’s business in Asia. 

Pat is the latest to leave Huntsman since it was taken over by Roubi L’Roubi two years ago. Peter Smith, the general manager, was the other big departure, going to Richard Anderson (himself ex-head cutter at Huntsman). Roubi has introduced several changes since he took over, including more women’s clothing, more ready-to-wear, and a relocation of the cutting team upstairs. 

Huntsman has three other cutters: Dario Carnera, Gordon Alsleben and Anette Akselberg.

I always try to avoid jumping to conclusions when tailors or brands are taken over. New ownership and management has been good for many Savile Row houses, most recently Gieves & Hawkes. But it’s fair to say it will take a while for Huntsman to convince bespoke customers that they offer the same service without Peter or Pat. They will be big shoes to fill. 

 
At the Milan event last month I had my final fitting on the cashmere herringbone jacket being made by Ferdinando Caraceni.

The more I get to know Nicoletta – Ferdinando’s daughter, although not a cutter unlike her father – the more impressed I am by her. Her passion for the work, particularly in her father’s memory, is infectious, and it reignites in me an interest in the details of finishing and stitching.

She demonstrates the finer points of a cotton double-breasted jacket, the delicate finishing of the internal seams. She scrunches up her own, 50-year-old jacket, and expands it again, to demonstrate the lightness and springy nature of the wool and canvas combined. It is, as I say, infectious.
 

 
The Caraceni atelier is also worth visiting for its collection of cloth, which stretches around two walls of the big central room. Ferdinando had a particular fondness for heavy Irish linens and heavier Huddersfield worsteds, and there are some wonderful examples in there from both mills and merchants now gone.

Interestingly, given our recent discussion of China and its increasingly inquisitive rich, Nicoletta said that she had a visit from a group of Chinese recently who were fascinated by the bespoke process and the various types of cloth.

Unfortunately, they understood the process but not the length of time required to make a suit. So having discovered that there would have to be repeat visits, they left without commissioning anything. A little knowledge, but not quite enough.

 
The fitting itself was great – just a few tweaks here and there. I particularly like the impression of structure the jacket gives, without much actual weight to the canvas or padding. The look is less similar to Neapolitan jackets than I expected – this will not be casual enough to wear with denim – but it is just as light and yet smart and sharp.

The cut of the jacket is an object lesson in how to achieve a flattering line through the waist, yet allow plenty of room for comfort. The key is to shape the front but leave a little room in the back. The side profile isn’t be quite as sleek through the small of one’s back, but it is the front that most of us care about most, and in my case I need that extra room to prevent the jacket kicking out over the seat anyway.