So, I’ve been working on a two-part series for Put This On (for those who don’t know, most of my writing is there). The posts were inspired by an online Vogue article I read earlier this year. Apparently, fashion editors are just like the rest of us. Despite having closets overflowing with options, they mostly rely on the same things for their day-to-day routines. An excerpt:

Like an exploding volcano of denim and satin, a tidal wave of cashmere and cotton, our clothes threaten to overtake our tiny apartments, to bury us alive under tees and trousers. This wouldn’t be so bad, maybe, if we actually wore all this stuff, if 365 days meant 365 different outfits—730 if we changed for evening! But nooo. In fact, most of us rely on a few favorites in serious rotation, leaving the rest of the orphans in the closet begging for crumbs.

To judge just how severe this situation has become, and with spring in full flower and the temptation to buy still more!—more!—beckoning from every shop and laptop, I asked some of my Vogue colleagues to share with me what it is they actually wear from their bursting closets.

Keep reading

Tailoring is a fierce trade with an ever-shrinking market. Which is perhaps why, if you talk to enough tailors, you’ll find they all hate each other. A tailor will tell you so-and-so is cheating his customers by using cheaper trims. Or such-and-such tailor isn’t cutting things right. For whatever reason, this sort of talk is especially common among the older tailors in Southern Italy, who are all too eager to tell you how everyone is doing things wrong except them. 

Part of this is the natural sniping that happens in small, competitive industries. The other part is about how tailors are trained. Traditionally, a tailor will enter the trade by apprenticing under a master cutter or tailor. Since their work as an apprentice is still contributing to the shop’s general output, that means things have to be done in a very careful and specific way. This lends a kind of rigidity to the learning process that, I assume, carries with the person throughout much of the career. People who do things differently are thought to be wrong, lazy, or just outright evil. 

Not all tailors are so rigid in their thinking. I’ve had some great conversations with Herrie Son, a young up-and-coming tailor located in Nashville, Tennessee – a city admittedly better known for its down-home country music than traditional suits and sport coats. Still, Herrie brings a bit of Savile Row craft to the American South. She got her start at the London College of Fashion, where she focused on handcraft tailoring, and then did some work for Thom Sweeney and Welsh and Jefferies. At the first, she learned how to cut; at the second, she learned how to make. 

Just as cloudy skies on Groundhog Day predict an early spring, Drake’s autumn lookbooks are a reminder that cooler days lie ahead. This year, the team shot their collection in the Shetland Islands. Which is fitting given how prominently their brushed Shetland cable knits feature in this lookbook. Thick sweaters in sapphire blue, canary yellow, and scarlet red serve as cheerful accents to otherwise drab ensembles made of prickly tweed, napped flannel, and waxed cotton. “We really went in on the knitwear this season,” says Michael Hill, the company’s creative director. “They’re made in the Shetland Isles by people who love what they do.” 

Ever since Drake’s expanded beyond their core line of ties and pocket squares, such collaborations have been an important part of their business. Belvest, where founder Michael Drake once work, makes the company’s sport coats in Italy. Blackhorse Lane Ateliers sews Drake’s jeans in London (those are the best jeans I’ve found to wear with sport coats). Last season, Drake’s also collaborated with the Japanese dyeing house Buaisou to produce a limited range of hand-dyed, indigo, cashmere-and-wool scarves. 

This season, they’re continuing with new collabs. One of my favorites is the viscose-silk blend scarf you see above, which was made in Northern Italy. “It’s our take on the college scarf,” says Michael. “The fabric has a lot of texture, so you don’t have to be too precious with it. The more crumpled and disheveled it looks, the better.” Drake’s also went to India to get these cashmere scarves woven in classic madras patterns. The irregular fibers give the twill weave an unique texture. Michael tells me they’ll continue with that collaboration next spring, but with brighter colors and lighter weight yarns.

It’s been about ten years since fashion journalist Dana Thomas penned Deluxe. And today, it stands as one of the best books I’ve read on the rise and fall of luxury labels such as Prada and Louis Vuitton. The book is about how the constant search for higher profits has led many old-world luxury companies to give up things that made them special in the first place – a commitment to quality, a focus on craft, and a willingness to innovate in terms of design. It’s not hard to notice that, for consumers in Western Europe, North America, and Japan, these labels have become less and less relevant over the years. 

It’s hard, however, to identify what’s replacing them. My friend Paul Munford, who runs the very smart Leanluxe, likes to say modern luxury companies are centered around a quiet confidence in branding, virtue of product, specialization, and transparency. Think of companies such as Ledbury, Common Projects, and Tracksmith. 

Perhaps. Sometimes I think Paul’s focus is more driven by aesthetic differentiation (e.g. minimalist branding) than actual business models. Plus, luxury is inherently hard to define. The people who were buying Louis Vuittion a generation ago may not be the same people buying Ledbury today. At the same time, that may not matter, as it’s clear a shift is happening. Mr. Porter, for example, is very much a luxury shop – and they don’t carry many of those old world brands. 

The internet is overflowing with information nowadays about custom tailoring, but I find the best information still comes from traditional networks – privately talking with friends who share an interest in the subject, as well as online acquaintances who’ve had bespoke clothes made. This is especially true if you’re interested in Italian style. In London, most tailors work for one of the large tailoring houses on Savile Row, which means you can easily walk down that street alone and find a reputable maker. 

In Italy, things are different. The firms are smaller; the tailoring houses less well-known. People are scattered throughout cities, which means they can be harder to find. In Naples, for example, tailors are often tucked away inside hidden courtyards and even apartment buildings, operating in workshops that have no commercial signage. The city at times reminds me of when I lived in Moscow. There, you often have stores hidden inside large, imposing buildings that otherwise serve as residential complexes. You’d never know they were there unless you were from the area – or talked to a local who could show you around. 

Since few Italian tailors visit the United States, I’ve been planning a trip to Italy to visit them. As such, I’ve turned to friends for recommendations on new tailors to try. Kentaro Nakagomi, the founder and designer behind Coherence, recommended I check out Sartoria Marinaro, which is based in Florence. “It has that good old smell,” he said. 

In the spring of 2010, the U.K.’s Advertising Standards Authority banned two Louis Vuitton print advertisements because they suggested the company’s products were handmade, when in fact they were not. The ads showed two softly illuminated women acting as master artisans (they were oddly in their mid-20s, by the way). In one image, a women is pictured saddle stitching a bag’s handle, while in another, a woman makes a fold on a wallet. Underneath, the copy reads: “A needle, linen thread, beeswax and infinite patience protect each overstitch from humidity and the passage of time […] With so much attention lavished on every one, should we only call them details?” The other says, “What secret little gestures do our craftsmen discreetly pass on? Let’s allow these mysteries to hang in the air. Time will provide the answers.” The images strangely looked like Johannes Vermeer’s paintings from the 17th century. They felt quiet and serene, and evoked a sense of old European craftsmanship that Louis Vuitton would have you believe goes into their mass-market bags.

On the one hand, these might not seem too different from ads with Photoshopped models and carefully staged settings. On the other hand, the issue of craftsmanship is much more tangible than brand imaging. People consciously make decisions on whether they’ll purchase something based on how it was made, and it’s commonly believed that handcrafted goods are better made than machined ones.

Is there something special about handmade goods, however? Many have thought so. The signs of handwork are a craftsman’s fingerprints, and people have valued craftsmen at different times for different reasons. Greeks and Romans thought of human labor as heroic. Hesiod’s Works and Days and Virgil’s Georgics, for example, portrayed human labor as divine and glorious. Additionally, painters in the 17th and 18th centuries often depicted people finding quiet satisfaction in their labor, and thinkers during the Enlightenment saw craftsmen as emblems of human individuality. Manual labor was placed as being equal to mental labors, and useful work was thought to be the driver of human progress.

One of my favorite purchases last year was a custom-made, black boxcalf folio I commissioned from Chester Mox. I’ve written about the company a dozen times before, but they’re one of my favorite makers. Bellanie, the woman behind the husband-and-wife team, graduated a few years ago from an apprenticeship she took with a former Hermes artisan. Her work today is comparable to the best I’ve seen anywhere – including Hermes – but is sold at a fraction of the price. 

The quality is all in the stitching. Machine-sewn leather goods have straight stitches, such that each stitch sits perfectly in-line with the next. Handsewn leather goods, on the other hand, are made with what’s known as a saddle-stitch. That’s when two needles pass through the same hole, either with an awl first piercing that hole and guiding a needle through, or with the holes punched by hand using a pricking iron. The technique is laborious, but it results in a stronger seam. Whereas machine-sewn seams can unravel if one stitch breaks, saddle-sewn seams have to be picked apart using a special tool. 

Frankly, I mostly like them for aesthetic reasons. Machine-sewn seams have visible holes in-between each stitch, but saddle-sewn seams look clean and tight. For people who appreciate craft, the work is beautiful in its own right. 

It seems crazy to open a brick-and-mortar in today’s retail environment, but Jake Grantham and Alex Pirounis recently took their chances with their new store, Anglo Italian. It’s located in the Marylebone area of London, a small residential district mostly characterized by its Georgian townhouses. As Mayfair rents have increased, a lot of commerce has moved to districts such as this one. This is the same neighborhood where you’ll find Trunk Clothiers, English Cut, and Monocle’s offices. 

The name Anglo Italian obviously reflects the shop’s aesthetics – a somewhat modernized version of a mid-century style, when the Italians used to look to the English for their cues – but it’s also reflective of Jake and Alex’s personal backgrounds. Jake, a native Londoner, worked for a while on Savile Row and then Drake’s. Alex, on the other hand, was born in Biella, Italy, and got his start at Kiton (his father, incidentally, has also worked at Loro Piana and Zegna his whole life). Both met when they were employees at The Armoury, which is how most readers probably know them. Their faces have shown up often on style blogs. 

When I spoke to Jake this past May, just a few weeks before the store’s opening, I asked him if he was worried about the apparent slowdown in Italian tailoring. It seems forever ago when people were obsessed with Neapolitan shoulders and unstrapped double monks. The landscape today for men’s style is a lot more decentralized – with people dabbling in designer clothing, streetwear, workwear, and classic tailoring.  

For a blog called Die, Workwear, I’m really into Unionmade. The store specializes in hard-to-find workwear, heritage brands, and Japanese imports. Basically the sort of things you’d see in Free & Easy, back when they were still being published, but available in one (very large) boutique. 

They also have some great sales every once in a while, which make their admittedly high prices a bit easier to stomach. Last night, they cut prices in their sale section, where you can knock another 20% off with the checkout code EXTRA20. Shipping is a reasonable $10 for most of the United States ($40 to $60 international). 

You’ll find a lot of good basics here. Gitman Vintage button-downs, striped Saint James Bretons, Wolverine work boots, New Balance sneakers, and the lowest price I’ve ever seen for a staple Barbour jacket. I also really like these light washed Levis jeans, which come in the 1947 version of their 501s (the cut has changed a lot over the years, but the 1947 version is probably the easiest to wear with its slim-straight fit). On a hot summer’s day, I can imagine those being worn with this white Arpenteur camp collar shirt and some Yuketen huaraches.