Bookster Nevis Tweed Suit

I’ll be honest with you.  I hate summer.

I know most of you won’t agree with me, but the summer for me is terrible.  It’s always too hot, this year being a pleasant exception.  I don’t golf.  Baseball burned its last bridge with me following the latest strike, and the Premier League has been in recess.  Even Formula 1 is taking a month off in the middle of the season.

I don’t really come into my own until the fall.  I love the fall and the winter, I love that first cold day, I love the way the air smells, I love the fall colors and the fall foods.  I also get to break out my favorite clothes, the ones I’ve hidden away all summer long because it’s just too blasted hot to wear them, my tweeds.

I love the tweeds and everything that goes with them, tattersall shirts, wool ties, flat caps and fedoras, clunky shoes & boots, the whole ensemble.

The English consider tweed a country fabric.  They make this odd distinction between those items that are worn in the country, in the city and in The City, and never should they intersect.  As the slogan goes, Never Brown in Town.  Not brown suits, not brown hats, and certainly not, my dear fellows, brown shoes.  It simply isn’t done.

Bertie Wooster in brown flannel

Well, for as English as I am at heart, I simply cannot abide any proscription against brown, particularly as it applies to tweed and flannel suits.  As you can see, our dear friend Wooster agrees with me.  Of course, Bertie has been known to clip the occasional rule, and in his defense he is at the train station about to depart for the country in an ensemble laid out by his man Jeeves.  And Jeeves is never wrong about clothing.  Or much of anything else.  But I digress.

My favorite tweed peddler is a fellow named Peter King, who along with his lovely wife Michele,  runs a business in the UK called Bookster.  (Peter has the most English mailing address in all of recorded history:  Woodfields Cottage, Weston under Penyard, Ross-on-Wye, Herefordshire.)  In his other lives, Peter has literally written the book on raising cattle, and something I didn’t know until about five minutes ago — once managed a reggae band.  And now he’s doing a brisk business in some marvelous tweed.

Peter and Michele are two of the best and most patient people on the planet with whom to do business and they supply me with wonderful things like two tweed suits currently hanging in my closet beside a tweed overcoat, another more formal coat currently in production in their shops, a few pairs of moleskin trousers, and, although they don’t know it yet, soon another suit not unlike Bertie’s which is going to be a birthday present to myself.

Here’s the problem you’ll have dealing with a company like Bookster:  You’re here, they’re there.  They don’t travel as other tailors we’ve discussed do.  Unless you’re willing to hop a plane to England and a train to Herefordshire, they’re not measuring you.  (And maybe they’re not measuring you if you do, I can’t say whether they even provide that service.)  You really need a good sense of your own dimensions when you order from Peter and Michele, and be willing to possibly have a bit of alteration done when the garment is delivered.  The effort is worthwhile for the hardcore Anglophile however, the result being a very traditional British garment made from superb British cloth, cut and sewn by British tailors.  In Britain.  And at remarkably modest prices, particularly with the currently favourable exchange rate.

Serious tweed is not the simplest thing in the world for an American fellow with very odd dimensions to source.  Perhaps it’s  particularly difficult in Indiana and far simpler in other parts of the country, if you have good sources please let me know.  But I do love my tweed, and what a joy it is to receive a big box full of the stuff from across the pond.

Joe Hemrajani measuring a customer

At the Masonic Society’s forum we’ve been discussing the virtues of Brooks Brothers‘ custom shirt program versus a bespoke or a made-to-measure product from a tailor.  I thought it might be valuable to discuss how the made-to-measure process works, at least with the tailor I use.  The process is essentially identical with almost all tailors, however.

I should probably begin by discussing the difference between the terms “bespoke” and “made-to-measure.”  You’ll frequently hear those terms used interchangeably in advertising, but that’s somewhat inaccurate and misleading.

Made-to-measure refers to a process in which the tailor begins with an existing pattern and adjusts it to fit your particular measurements.  You’ll be able to select your fabrics and specify many of the styling elements. There usually aren’t any intermediate fittings with made-to-measure tailors, they measure you, produce the garment and then deliver it.  Adjustments to the fit will be made on subsequent purchases.

Bespoke tailors don’t begin with an existing pattern.  When you commission your first shirt or suit from a bespoke tailor, the cutter will take your measurements and start with a clean sheet of paper, producing a pattern that is specific to you and you alone.  In the case of shirts, some tailors will make a prototype shirt, ask you to launder it as you typically would a couple of times and wear the shirt to check the fit.  Others will simply make a real first shirt.  Adjustments will be made to the pattern after verifying the fit, then the remainder of your order produced.  In the case of suits, they’ll produce a “forward baste,” which is your actual suit very roughly sewn together.  The lapels will not be attached, it won’t be fully lined, pockets not finished and so forth.  The tailor will check the fit, mark up the suit, take it completely apart, recut it and sew it back together again.  This may be done a few times until both parties are satisfied with the fit.  Only then will the suit be completed and finished.

I’ve made the decision that I cannot justify the added expense of fully bespoke suits and shirts, which can be several times the cost of made-to-measure.

I work with a traveling tailor, Hemrajani Brothers, but there are many different tailors who provide the same service, and it may well be that you have a local tailor in your area.  Certainly in larger cities, even here in Indianapolis, there are local tailors you can work with to achieve the same results.  This is how Hemrajani’s process works.  Several times a year, one of their tailors (in my case it’s usually Mr. Ram Keswani) moves into a hotel room for a couple of days with about 3000 fabric books.  At your first visit, the tailor will take a very extensive set of measurements and some photographs of you so they’ll have records of your body type.  Then he’ll discuss what kind of garments you’re looking for, suits, shirts, trousers, sport coats, dinner suits.  Hemrajani even makes custom linen pajamas.  You’ll select your fabrics, then your styling details.  In your shirts, do you want a button down or point collar?  What kind of collar spread?  Button or French cuffs?  How many buttons?  Shoulder pleats?  Pockets?  Length of your tails?  With suits, single or double breasted?  Notch or peak lapels?  How many buttons?  Waistcoat?  Hacking pockets?  Ticket pockets?  Pick stitching?  Lining color?  Working sleeve buttons?  Pleats or cuffs on your trousers?  Belt loops or braces?  Brace back?

It seems daunting, but he’ll happily lead you through all of the fabric and styling choices to arrive at something appropriate for you.  Remember, you’ll be a walking advertisement for their services, so it’s in his best interest to make sure that whatever you get looks just right.

After taking your credit card and billing and shipping information, he’ll hand you a card reminding you when and what you ordered, how much you paid, and will tell you to expect a box in 6-8 weeks.  At this point, your measurements and order are sent to Hemrajani’s California offices where they adjust your pattern, then the whole order and pattern are transmitted to Hemrajani’s Hong Kong production facility where your garments are actually produced, then shipped back to California and thence to your front door.

Your shirts will need to be laundered about three times before you’ll really have a feel for the fit.  (A small amount of fabric shrinkage is computed into the pattern.)  Suits, jackets and trousers should be taken to the dry cleaners for a professional pressing — that suit has been stuffed in the box for a while.  BTW, Hemrajani includes a beautiful hanger with every suit you buy.  It’s a little touch that adds a lot of value.

Honestly, your first order probably won’t be perfect.  My first suit needed some adjustments to the sleeves, my shirts needed a bit of room in the shoulders.  The next time you meet with your tailor, wear the clothes you bought last time.  He’ll make those adjustments to your pattern and the next effort will be closer.  After three sessions, we’re both completely happy with the way everything fits. The first session’s results were better than anything I ever bought from a store, however.

The cost depends almost completely on the fabrics you choose.  Better fabric = higher cost, but in general I’ve found the price of the things I’ve bought from Hemrajani to be on par with better mainstream department store and mens’ shop brands, and the fit and construction are superior.  Hemrajani’s jackets are full canvas construction, not fused (essentially glued together) as most mainstream brands are, canvas construction creates a much softer and lighter garment that wears better and conforms more closely to your body.  And I get what I want, not what the store has.

Again, Hemrajani is who I use, they have a good product AND they visit Indianapolis, many tailors don’t.  (Their website tells you where and when they’re visiting.)  They’re not paying me, I’m simply a satisfied customer relaying my experience with them to you.  There are many tailors from which to choose — but not as many as there used to be.  I encourage my gentleman readers to utilize the services of tailors who produce clothing that is made to fit your body, especially in the case of shirts.  Custom shirts are a fantastic value proposition, and you’ll never realize how badly your shirts fit and feel until you buy a proper shirt.

Evening Wear

It seems to me that a good starting place is probably a discussion of what, exactly, we’re discussing and its history and etiquette.

First, the term “tuxedo,” as well as its even more vulgar cousin, “tux,” are singularly American in origin, coming to us from New York.  In 1886, New York socialites James Brown Potter and his wife Cora took a holiday in England, where they happened to meet the Prince of Wales at a ball.  The Prince invited the Potters to visit Sandringham, his estate in Norfolk, and when Mr. Potter inquired about the dress code there the Prince recommended that Potter visit his London tailor and purchase a “dinner jacket,” a short garment of his own design that he preferred to the tailcoat, worn with a rakish black bow tie.

Upon returning to New York, Potter wore his new dinner jacket to his gentleman’s club, Tuxedo Park.  There, several members including Pierre Lorillard (of the well-known tobacco products family) admired Potter’s new clothing a great deal, declared it to be more appropriate than the tailcoat for informal dinners, and had copies made by local tailors for their own use at the club. (One envisions the Drones Club at this point.)

One evening, several members of the Club went together wearing their dinner jackets to Delmonico’s, the only dining establishment in the city that didn’t require men to dress for dinner.  The Tuxedo Park gentlemen explained to the other diners who had never seen such a getup that this was how the members preferred to dress for dinner at the Club.  Thus, dinner jackets came to be known in the United States as “tuxedos.”

There was still a common understanding, however, that at any function where ladies were present the tailcoat was the expected form of dress, and that this new tuxedo, or dinner jacket, was only appropriate for stag events, such as dinner at the Club.

The aforementioned Pierre Lorillard, clearly a rake and a bounder, violated all known standards of decency by attending Tuxedo Park’s first Autumn Ball wearing his short jacket.  He was dismissed, of course, for being inappropriately attired, and the society pages of the newspaper reported that Lorillard “looked like a royal footman.”

Despite the indignity heaped upon Mr. Lorillard, the black tie dinner jacket, or tuxedo, if you must, grew in popularity and quickly supplanted the white tie tailcoat as the preferred dress for more formal occasions.

It is interesting to note that the concept of dressing for dinner was originally to change out of clothing worn all day when the primary mode of transport involved a horse, with the smell and grime that attends that form of locomotion and city life in general.  After the advent of the automobile, the custom remained as an indication of one’s refinement, always wishing to be as attractive as possible when meeting for social engagements.

The dinner jacket is always considered evening wear, it is improper to be worn during daylight hours, the only exception being when an event begins in late afternoon and is expected to last well into the evening.  Of course, in the summer months it doesn’t get dark until nearly 10:00PM, so etiquette experts have defined “evening” as beginning at 6:00PM or at dark, whichever comes first.

Obviously if a dinner jacket is inappropriate prior to 6:00PM, something else must be considered appropriate formal wear before that hour.  That something is morning wear, and we will discuss that in the next post.

That phrase is intended to be a leveler, to say that Freemasonry regards no man for his wealth or goods but for his internal qualities, his morality, his integrity, his dignity, his sense of justice; qualities that can exist in an unemployed day laborer and the highest paid CEO in equal measure.

Unfortunately, what it has become is an excuse.  Apologia for slovenliness borne of the cursed notion that jeans, t-shirts and sneakers are appropriate attire for attendance at a gentleman’s organization, the odd idea that no one, not even you, should care how you look.

Freemasonry is not intended to be a lowest common denominator group.  It is a society of gentlemen created for our mutual encouragement and uplift, to become better.  If you are of the opinion that the lodge should simply be happy you show up in whatever you happen to be wearing, this blog won’t be for you.  If, however, you want to raise your game, if you want to look and act the part of a Gentleman Mason, I invite your active participation.

The point of The Gentleman Mason is that to make good men better requires several skills that are not taught within the lodge proper.  Perhaps our founders simply assumed that gentlemen would come to us already equipped with this knowledge, and perhaps in previous eras this was the case.  However, in this coarse age we can not make that assumption.  The idea that this is proper and that is not may seem anachronistic in this “anything goes” culture, but our Society can restore those values. Perhaps not for the world at large, but in ourselves.  If we accomplish only that it is a victory.

The Gentleman Mason forum at The Masonic Society message board says that’s where we discuss style, manners, culture, and choosing the proper cigar and brandy.  I don’t claim to be expert in all those areas, certainly not in cigars or brandy, but I do have some knowledge in the sartorial arts, what is appropriate (and not) as well as the whens and whys.  Hopefully we’ll be able to attract some gentlemen who can better speak to the selection of fine cigars and adult beverages than I am able, and that we’ll be able to learn from one another in regard to the gentlemanly arts in which we are uniquely well grounded.

The Gentleman Mason isn’t just about wearing the right clothes, it’s about the right way for a gentleman to do, well, most anything.  Anyone can be average.  The Gentleman Mason will never settle for average.

It most assuredly is not as of yet, but it’ll get there.