I realized sometime last year that my wardrobe is sorely lacking in good dress coats. They’re harder to find now that fewer and fewer men wear tailored clothing, but they do exist. You can find them in traditional shops such as O’Connell’s and some more modern ones such as Brooks Brothers. You can also go vintage, which is an especially good option given how well coats tend to hold up (and how much money can be saved between buying a new vs. used). The third option is to get something custom made, which is what I’m hoping to have done.
On my wish list is a deep navy Guard’s coat, which I plan to use for formal occasions; a traditional camel-colored Polo, which will less formal; and a tweed Polo, which less formal still. I fell in love with the idea of a tweed Polo after seeing Michael Alden in one here and here. (Michael has disallowed the embedding of his videos, but his coat is fantastic, so you ought to click through). Beijing1980 also commissioned something similar last year, which you can see in the photos above and below. Both are truly magnificent.
Thus far, I’ve bought my fabric: a 21oz herringbone tweed that looks like the crust of a freshly baked loaf of bread (perhaps the crust that will protect my ever-expanding, soft, doughy belly?). It was woven by Molloy & Sons, a small woolen mill located in Donegal, which as many readers know, is a mountainous county in the northwest coast of Ireland. Donegal is famous for textile production, but the number of mills has dramatically declined over the years. Molloy & Sons is one of the few remaining, and is run by a father-and-son team (literally Molloy & his son). Everything is done by them in-house, except the finishing, and the workshop is located right next to the family’s home, where generations of Molloys have grown up.
Despite being small and new, Molloy & Sons produces pretty exceptional fabrics. The one I have is hefty, but soft, and has a nice, springy bounce when you pinch the material and roll it between your two fingers. Like other Donegal tweeds, their fabrics are valued for the many, irregular flecks of color that decorate the surface. As Jesse wrote at Put This On, these are produced by washing and felting small bits of wool before the materials are spun into yarn. Because these bits are felted, they don’t stretch out, so they “glob onto the yarn like bubble gum on a piano string.” The result is a fabric with tons of earthy character, which makes it perfect for a fall/ winter garment.
When I received my cloth last week, I was wearing a pair of dark olive chinos by Ring Jacket (available through The Armoury), and noticed how handsome the wheat color looked against my pants. I then thought about how equally nice they’d look set against some green moleskins or dark brown pick-and-pick trousers.
Maybe I should get another length for a sport coat.
(Photos by Beijing1980, Musella Dembech, and Molloy & Sons)
