Measuring up for a suit that suits
In a world where off-the-shelf suits are the norm, Richard McComb goes in search of sartorial, made-to-measure elegance.
I am in search of my inner Rupert and thanks to the skill and considerable patience of Paul Banks I think I may have found him.
Paul is in charge of the made-to-measure section at Austin Reed, in Temple Row, Birmingham. He’s good, very good. He’ll make you feel like a million dollars. At one point, he tells me my body is perfectly proportioned. It’s a polite way of saying: “Your body is made up of odd bits, but each odd bit is as odd as the next. So it’s perfect.”
The thought of being perfect sparks an impromptu Roger Moore moment as I glance sideways, spot a full-length mirror and raise a single insouciant eyebrow.
Sadly, Roger is no longer à la mode. Rupert is. Actor Rupert Penry-Jones, the non-smiling granite-jawed action man from the BBC spy drama Spooks. Thinking girl’s eye-candy, Rups is the man of the moment when it comes to modern male styling at Austin Reed. He’s on all its advertising posters, wearing deftly-cut suits or powering through deserts on a motorbike, kitted out in rugged leather.
Austin Reed has always been on the reassuringly traditional wing of British tailoring, the outfitter of choice for merchant bankers, lawyers, senior civil servants and junior royalty. But the brand has been getting more edgy recently. Hence Rupert. Hence me.
The retailer has introduced the cool AR Red range, aimed at the 30-plus “urban male,” but I have popped in to road test the company’s made-to-measure suit service. It costs a bit more than off the peg but comes with the guarantee that the suit will fit like a glove. Plus you get all sorts of fancy extras, like choosing from a zillion and one groovy linings.
The suits start from £500, all in, which is comparable with a ready-made gents’ designer suit, although you get the added assurance of knowing the trousers haven’t been made to fit a 6ft 4in high jumper and will have to be taken up so much it looks like your mum’s done it.
We start by looking at fabrics. There are hundreds – and that is just the different shades of blue. You can’t beat a blue suit, the male equivalent of the little black dress. I’ve always fancied a pinstripe but feared I would end up looking like a Bugsy Malone reject or a clowning QC. Paul guides me through the fabric booklets until we find some subtle stripes that strike a chord.
“If you are looking for a business suit, you are looking for a workhorse suit,” says Paul. That means a medium weight 12oz fabric, he suggests. Much heavier and you will expire when your chauffeur turns up the heating on your Maybach.
I fall in love with a Dormeuil cloth. The luxury French brand has been around since 1842 and supplies Chanel and Christian Dior, so I feel in pretty safe hands. And as I’m looking for a racing thoroughbred, not a workhorse, I plumb for a lightweight 100 per cent worsted wool 8oz fabric. It’s ideal for “fine tropical suitings” and I won’t lather up at summer garden parties.
It is a beautiful, fine yarn with a lustruous feel and look, dark blue with a very fine half-inch pinstripe and the lightness of angels’ wings. I can’t resist an olive green lining, which is a new one on Paul. Like Rupert, I’m a maverick. And the green will be to die for when I’m next in Milan.
You might assume made-to-measure had taken a hammering in the current economic climate but sales are bucking the trend at AR in Birmingham. Sales in the second half of 2008 were 80 per cent up on the previous year and there has been no let-up into 2009. One city client had 15 suits tailor-made last year.
“We have a lot of business people who want something a bit different,” says Paul as he starts taking my measurements.
“We offer a personal tailoring service. If you have a drop on one shoulder, we can cater for that or any other figurations. One common thing is that men grow on the waist but not on the thigh. It is the little things like that that we can cater for.”
A typical consultation takes between 30 minutes and an hour.
“Some people know what they want because they are regular customers. We keep their measurements on file. When they pop in for a new suit we just check the essential measurements – the waist, chest and seat.”
Yes, the “seat”. There is nothing coarse at AR. I learn, for example, that I have a “flat seat”. Everything is done with extreme tact.
“Do you like it like that, sir? Good and hard? Do you sir? Ooo! Ooo!” Sorry, it’s not like that at all, not even a whiff of “Suits you, sir!”
The measuring up process is remarkably straightforward, no Grace Brothers comments about inside leg measurements or queries about “what side sir hangs to?”. The trousers are sorted out in a jiffy and Paul takes sleeve measurements and half-back, chest, jacket length and jacket waist measurements. He explains that the seat measurement is usually the same as the chest measurement and the chest is usually six-inches more than the waist, thus leading to the aforesaid comment about me having the perfect figure.
We discuss the cut of the suit – whether to go for the classic Westminster business suit or the contemporary Chelsea suit, which is designed for the “modern man who works out at the gym.” I am toying over the options when Paul interjects. He doesn’t think I’m Chelsea. “It would not be right for you, I’m afraid to say Richard. It would come up a little bit elongated and we don’t want that.” We most certainly do not.
We settle on the Westminster with two buttons and two side vents, rather than a single centre vent, which is a little “head boy”. Lapels can have a plain finish but I opt for the hand finished style, where you can see the stitching. It’s a personal choice but I like to see people have expended some effort.
The jacket has two exterior slanted pockets (“They give more shape”) rather than straight pockets. Technically, they are slanting jetted with flaps. Inside the jacket, there are two main pockets, a lower pocket for one’s comb or pen, and a ticket pocket, for the bus, should the Maybach fail.
Then I bid farewell and wait for five weeks while Austin Reed’s appointed suit-makers in Yorkshire go to work.
When I return for my fitting, I am bowled over. The suit looks and feels like no other I possess and the Dormeuil cloth is inspired.
Eat your heart out Rupert. I’ve come in from the cold.
