Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Once I figure out whatever it is that I'm going to do so well, that people will pay me lots of money to do it, I'm going to appease a very old desire of mine and run to Savile Row to have a bespoke suit made. That is . . . if it's still there.
I want a suit which will quietly and stealthily whisper to judging eyes, "yes, I fit very nice but you have no idea where this came from". But most important a suit which fits me and only me, to a "t". Especially my ahem, rounder areas (don't even look at me that way, the journalist they interviewed is sensitive about his bum, as well).
I am afflicted that this beautiful, piece of history . . . iconic tailoring and craftsmanship is being uprooted by real estate prices and places like (rolls eyes), Abercrombie and Fitch. (This documentary makes A&F look pretty graceless but it probably didn't take much ammunition). Is nothing sacred anymore?
As of now, I do not have a single suit in my possession. I consider it a most boring item to buy. Something you drag your feet on buying because they're always overpriced and they rarely fit well. The bespoke experience seems much more intimate, privy and enjoyable. Picture me as a kid in a candy store, looking at the mesmeric selection of wool and silk.
I do however own a slew of nicely made separates ("black" is your friend, my friends) which all play together nicely in the sandbox. Last week, I bought this Vanessa Bruno Athe cotton jacket from the Outnet. It's not bespoke . . . but it's cut well, and it will do as I wait patiently for that first million.
(Video: first seen on Rdujour and photo from the Outnet)