Part III of III: Bespoke Retirement Gifts From My Father

My ladies frock coat awaiting its first fitting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Nota bene: I apologize for the delay in publishing this post, the final installment of the three-part series.  I've had to dig deep into my seemingly bottomless digital photography library to find the images of my father at work that best illustrate this story. I do hope you enjoy reading and viewing this post. 

My father enjoyed a great passion for his craft during his long career as a Savile Row tailor, a passion that went far beyond merely earning his daily bread.  You would think that in his spare time he would turn to other pleasures to occupy his hours.  Not my Dad.  He had a working love affair with fabric and our family has reaped the rewards handsomely over the years.  His sons-in-law wore bespoke suits made for them as wedding gifts by his hand, as did most of the male cousins in our family.  He was also our favorite curtain maker, and even turned his attention to upholstery on one occasion.

Shortly before his retirement, my father generously offered to make my husband and I some bespoke sartorial gifts. My fortunate other half was to be outfitted with a new two-piece suit and a heavy winter coat, and I was to be the lucky recipient of a ladies frock coat.

We were sent along to visit Chittleborough & Morgan on Savile Row, where we met with Mr. Roy Chittleborough who expertly measured us for our new clothing.  I've known Roy, and his business partner Mr. Joseph Morgan, since childhood and always make a point of stopping by the shop to say hello whenever I'm in London.  In Roy's capable hands, we were assured that the numerous measurements taken (I lost track of exactly how many after about ten) to make our individual bespoke patterns would be handled with the utmost skill and dexterity.

While at the shop, my husband had the opportunity of selecting the cloth for his new suit, a grey superfine British worsted wool, and also the lining for his jacket and trousers, a brilliant purple silk which would impart a dashing shot of color to an otherwise conservative looking suit.

The photograph below shows my father cutting the suit trousers from the grey wool.

Chalk lines indicate where to cut for economy of cloth

Photo: Chronica Domus

The mark of a quality British superfine all worsted wool, woven at a mill located in the town of Huddersfield in northern England

Photo: Chronica Domus

Nothing is wasted, not even the cloth's identifying label, seen above, which is woven at the edge of the fabric.  Eventually, this will be cut and stitched into the interior backs of the trouser cuffs, providing extra durability and extending the life of the trousers, a nice bespoke detail not found on made-to-measure or off the rack trousers.

Making adjustments to the trousers at the first fitting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Chalk is so important to a tailor.  In the photograph above, my husband receives his first trouser fitting.  By the end of it, he is covered in chalk marks indicating where alternations are required.

The suit jacket is single-breasted with two buttons, a breast pocket, and a classic peaked lapel.  It is a well known fact among the tailoring community that cutting peaked collars on single-breasted jackets is one of the most challenging aspects of the craft.  I think my father did an outstanding job on my husband's jacket, seen in the photograph below.

A classic peaked lapel complete with buttonhole for one's boutonniére

Photo: Chronica Domus

The interior of the jacket is a work of art. See how beautifully the silk lining has been hand-stitched into the jacket, finished off with neat triangular pocket flaps and little horn buttons.  The seam that runs slightly to the bottom right of the flap shows how this pocket is divided into two so that the wearer can store a narrow item, such as a pen, upright.

The interior work of the jacket beautifully highlighted in purple silk

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now, onto the next item of clothing, my husband's heavy winter cashmere coat.  Part of the inspiration for this began with Benedict Cumberbatch's portrayal of Sherlock Holmes, who is kitted out in a marvelously dramatic coat that combines aspects of a traditional frock coat and a military greatcoat.

Watching the two men in my life collaborate on the design of the coat provided some rather amusing moments. Here is what they came up with while brainstorming one evening.

The design process of the winter coat as it evolved - left, my husband's crude drawing, center and right, my father's interpretation using the medium he works best in, cloth

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was curious to see what sartorial marvel would be concocted from the lavish heavy black cashmere wool and blood-red colored silk chosen to line the coat.

The photographs below show the incredible amount of hidden detail that goes into every bespoke coat and jacket.  Hundreds of stitches help build the foundation of the chest area, lapels, and collar. It takes many hours of concentration and nimble fingers, in concert with needle and thread, to achieve the correct structure.

 The hidden workings of a bespoke coat
Photo: Chronica Domus

The interior of the left front coat panel, showing my father accurately measuring the angle and width of the lapel

Photo: Chronica Domus

Snipping the black cashmere fabric that will line the lapel, no mistakes allowed!

Photo: Chronica Domus

At first fitting, below, you can see how much progress has been made.  The coat is beginning to resemble the crude design that was hatched during the brainstorming session.  A canvas waist band is pinned in place to get an idea of it's final positioning.

White thread and chalk guide my father in achieving the perfect fit

Photo: Chronica Domus

The style and placing of the cuffs and slanted pockets are picked out in canvas at the initial fitting

Photo: Chronica Domus

It took several more fittings, and many more hours of work, until my father was ready to hand sew the silk lining to the interior of the coat.  Below you see the old master beginning to thread the various panels together.

Photo: Chronica Domus

Like a jigsaw puzzle, much concentration and skill is required to align the silk panels for a flawless fit

Photo: Chronica Domus

The completed interior showing one of the pockets embellished with a little horn button

Photo: Chronica Domus 

The elegant curve of the cuff imparts a dashing touch of artistry to the coat

Photo: Chronica Domus

Below, I present my husband, photographed on a chilly December evening in London alongside a statue of the dandiest of Regency dandies, Beau Brummel.  I think they both look rather fetching in their double-breasted coats, don't you?

Two elegantly attired dandies on Jermyn Street, one of London's most fashionable streets and home to many gentlemen's clothiers

Photo: Chronica Domus

Now it was my turn to be outfitted in style.  My father asked me what I would enjoy wearing and find useful to add to my wardrobe.  We discussed the idea for making a very handsome coat that I knew would be put to good use whenever I had occasion to be dressed to the nines and out on the town for some fun.  I was to receive a ladies double-breasted frock coat, designed to be worn over a dress as a light layer and not really meant to keep the cold weather at bay, such as a heavy overcoat would.  The frock coat would be long-skirted, slightly nipped in at the waist, with two back vents running the length of the skirt. I was floating on a cloud at the prospect of wearing such a theatrical coat and could not wait to witness the magic my father would conjure to make it all materialize.

Here is the front panel of my ladies frock coat being readied for my first fitting

Photo: Chronica Domus

Here I am under the careful gaze of my father as he pins and chalks away

Photo: Chronica Domus

I was so excited to see what the front of the frock coat looked like that I dashed into the bathroom to peek into the mirror

Photo: Chronica Domus

For a feminine touch, I selected a salmon pink two-toned lining that appears green as the fabric shifts around in the light.  Pink thread was also used to highlight the bottom buttonhole of the cuffs adding another idiosyncratic detail to the coat.  Can you see the clandestine pocket that has been incorporated into the lining at the waistline?  My husband and I have immensely enjoyed taking advantage of such bespoke detail, adding flamboyant touches where they would not ordinarily be expected.

Horn buttons, pink buttonholes, and secret pockets, bespoke touches that make up my ladies frock coat

Photo: Chronica Domus

It was a fascinating educational journey of discovery and awe as we documented my father at work and watched him create immaculately tailored garments for us  We find ourselves so very fortunate to be the grateful recipients of his magnanimous nature, and shall wear each garment with pride and joy for many years to come.

Slipping into an item of clothing that is made to one's exact form which traces perfectly the curve of the shoulders, the small of the back, and the length of the arm, is a great joy. To state something fits like a glove is truly the best possible way of describing the experience, and to know each item was made by my beloved father with love, generosity and care is indeed wondrous.

Part II of III: Celebrating Retirement In A Most Fitting Fashion

A few years ago my father made the decision to retire from his profession.  He had worked tirelessly since his teens and wanted to scale back his work commitments.  He envisioned a more leisurely life of gardening and travel, punctuated by a healthy dose of grandfatherly antics with his adoring grandchildren, all of which sounds terribly exhausting, especially for a septuagenarian.

It was difficult for me to actually imagine him truly retiring from his craft, no longer to be surrounded by bolts of fine cloth, the ever present dusty mess of his tailoring chalk, and a seemingly endless trail of errant threads and misplaced needles.  But, retirement was firmly on his mind so he hung up his shears, dismantled his workshop, and entered into the next phase of his life.

Actually, it was not quite that simple.  Some very special projects came knocking at his door which culminated in a spectacular apotheosis to his lengthy career.

It all began early in 2011.  My father was approached with the idea of working on an item of clothing that would be photographed as part of a series of Royal Mail postage stamps commemorating the best of British Fashion.

He was charged with replicating a jacket he had originally tailored in the early 1970's for Ringo Starr of The Beatles.  The original was designed by Tommy Nutter and cut by his colleague Edward Sexton, a master at his craft.  As my father had tailored the 1970's version, he was the only tailor considered for the remake, and rightly so.

The nattily dressed Ringo Starr wearing the jacket my father tailored in the early 1970's, designed by the flamboyant Tommy Nutter

Make no mistake, this was no ordinary commission. The design incorporates a unique one-piece rolled collar that is highlighted with contrasting trim.  The sleeves, slightly upturned where they connect to the shoulder line, give the jacket an unusual silhouette. Only the most experienced of tailors would be able to successfully replicate the look of the original. The garment was more akin to a sculptural work of art than a piece of clothing.

Procuring the identical striking black and white Prince of Wales tweed to that of the original was next on the agenda.  Fortunately, the British mill that weaved the fabric in the 1970's is still in existence, but production of the pattern had long ago ceased. Apparently, very good records were kept because a little sleuthing through the mill's archives unearthed an adequate sample allowing the weavers to replicate the cloth especially for the stamp project.

I was intrigued to see the final result of this unusual collaboration with the Royal Mail. Fittingly, the stamp would be issued in the spring of 2012, just as my father was about to retire. Would you believe it if I told you he only shared the news of the stamp commission with me in passing, as though he was relaying a trivial tidbit of neighborhood gossip over the garden fence?  It was the eve of my departure from London, having visited with my parents during the prior three weeks of my winter holiday. Over cups of tea seated around the old pine kitchen table, he told me the story.  I'm so happy he did as it gave me the opportunity to put in my order for a first day special issue set of stamps that would be canceled at a post office located in W1, the same central London postcode shared by Savile Row, using a special ink stamp to commemorate the occasion.  The word proud falls vastly short of how I felt the day I received my stamps.

The replica jacket my father tailored as shown on the first class Royal Mail stamp

My colorful first day issue cover of the complete set of British fashion stamps

Photo: Chronica Domus

I just love the special needle and thread spool ink stamp designed especially to cancel the first day issue covers

Photo: Chronica Domus

During the same conversation at the kitchen table that evening, my father relayed another bit of exciting news.  He casually mentioned the fact that he had been asked to give a talk on the opening day of a spacial exhibit that had been shown several months earlier at London's Fashion and Textile Museum.  Sadly, he had politely declined the invitation. "What?" I spurted, almost spilling my tea everywhere.  To make matters worse, I wondered why it was that I was only now learning of this news after the exhibition had closed. My father, as it turned out, did not think it "a big deal".

An advertisement for the Tommy Nutter: Rebel On The Row exhibition

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Actually, it was. Titled Rebel On The Row, the exhibition showcased many of the suits my father had tailored during the heyday of his career working at Nutters. It told the story of how Tommy Nutter revolutionized British tailoring.  I could barely believe my father's nonchalance towards this very exciting event. Suits he had tailored such as Mick and Bianca Jagger's wedding outfits, Elton John's colorful moire tailcoats, along with many other distinctive examples, were among the stars of this exhibit, and my father had made them all.

Mick and Bianca Jagger on their wedding day wearing the jackets my father tailored while working at Nutters (note: Bianca began the trend for cleavage-bearing attire decades before the likes of Jennifer Lopez and every other female celebrity caught on)

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Two of the many memorable tailcoats I watched my father make for Elton John's 1984 "I'm Still Standing" tour

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I suppose his relaxed attitude should not have come as such a great surprise.  My father has always shied away from the spotlight and self-promotion, preferring instead to take pleasure in his work from behind the scenes.  I truly wish I could have seen this event firsthand to revisit some of my father's most memorable work.

The final jacket of my father's long career was to be worn at a very distinguished milestone celebration. Queen Elizabeth II would be celebrating her diamond jubilee throughout 2012.  To mark the auspicious occasion, a festive pop concert was to be staged directly in front of Buckingham Palace. Many of Britain's biggest musical talents would take the stage to entertain Her Royal Highness and other members of the royal family.  My father had been asked to make a particularly special jacket for one of the entertainers to be worn during the evening's grand performance.

The design, resembling a vintage British Bobby's jacket, would have a little decorated stand up collar and cuffs, and be set off with shiny silver metal buttons shaped into coronets. When my father took delivery of the cloth to be used for the jacket, which had been dropped off at his workshop by runner in a nondescript heavy-duty paper bag, he noticed it contained more than the expected bundle of pre-cut cloth.  He was a little bemused to discover a bedraggled vintage Union Jack flag which, upon closer examination, revealed it had formed part of a moth's banquet.  It was riddled with tiny holes. The flag turned out to be a 1953 model, manufactured the same year of Queen Elizabeth II's coronation.  I'll return to the flag a little later in the story.

On June 4, 2012, the day of the diamond jubilee concert celebration, we all eagerly awaited the appearance of Paul McCartney, not for his noted singing abilities mind you, but for the sheer pleasure of ogling at the jacket my father had made for him.

Performing on stage for Her Royal Highness and millions of viewers around the world during the diamond jubilee concert celebration

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Riveted to the television screen, we were more than a little delighted when, at the conclusion of his performance, Sir Paul whipped off his jacket and flashed his 1953 Union Jack to the world. Bravo Sir Paul, bravo! What a patriotic showman you are!

In glorious patriotic spirit Sir Paul flashes his vintage Union Jack which now forms the lining to his jacket

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And with that, dear reader, my father's career had come to a glorious end, in front of millions of viewers across the world, upon a stage in front of Buckingham Palace and The Queen of England, in the most fitting British way.  I could not imagine a more memorable retirement celebration than this grand spectacle, can you?

I'm sure Her Majesty was suitably impressed with Sir Paul's patriotic sartorial flair

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In the final installment to this series, I will show you what my father tailored for my lucky husband and I as his retirement gift to us.

Part I of III: Birthday Wishes To My Father & How He Fell Into His Profession

Tomorrow is my father's birthday and as I've been thinking about him a lot lately, I decided to write a short series of posts all about his work.  Happy Birthday Daddy!

My beaming father at the age of sixteen wearing the first suit he ever made, a double-breasted example, photographed with his two adoring sisters

Photo: Chronica Domus

You've never met my father, but if you've ever seen Rex Harrison in the film My Fair Lady, or have admired or been equally amused at some of Elton John's unique and zany stage suits, or perhaps remember the cover of The Beatles album Abbey Road, you will likely have seen my father's handiwork. Until his retirement a few years ago, my father was a Savile Row tailor.

During his lengthy career, which began as an apprentice at the tender age of sixteen, when he was a mere rakish lad, he has dressed some of the most famous figures in the world. People from all walks of life that have admired and desired the fine cut of a bespoke suit have crossed paths with my father. His jackets have been worn by figures from the world of stage and screen, members of the royal families of Europe and the middle-east, politicians, singers of popular music and classical opera, captains of industry, and untold numbers of ladies and gentlemen whose taste in sartorial elegance includes a finely crafted suit.

Becoming a tailor was something that was quite unplanned for my father, and he was the only member of his immediate family to have pursued a creative career. I believe this is because he is an artist at his very core, someone for whom the smallest and most subtle detail can never escape his critical eye. He has nearly a sixth sense as to how cloth might be manipulated to drape and caress in just the right places, highlighting or even disguising the best or worst features of a person's frame. He can appreciate the construction of a tiny horn button, or the way a pair of scissor blades have been honed to cut just so, and whose weight balances perfectly in the hand. When I was a little girl, I remember him constantly doodling on the silver paper linings found within his packets of Rothmans cigarettes, often little crude designs of lapel styles or theatrical renditions of jackets and blazers.

I recall my father telling the story of how he was so all consumingly bored upon being given the tedious duty of gluing endless fabric samples into books, his sole responsibility at his first job. The operation was based in a multi-storey building somewhere in London, and he found it most amusing to pad out his day by riding the building's only elevator, up and down ad nauseum. Well, his superior soon clocked onto his game when other employees began complaining that the elevator was always jammed and out-of-service. I don't think that job lasted for too much longer.

Next, he managed to be taken under the wing of an experienced tailor as an apprentice, who soon taught him how to cut. My father likes to relay how he ruined Peter Sellers' jacket by cutting the fabric for the sleeves backwards. Poor daddy, he didn't even know his right from his left and there he was being given the heavy responsibility of cutting through costly Holland & Sherry worsteds and wools.  He remembers a swift clip around the ear being delivered with an admonishment to pay attention; measure twice and cut once, and all of that.

By the time his apprenticeship was completed, my father certainly knew his craft competently enough to have made Rex Harrison's suits in the 1964 film My Fair Lady. Examples of traditional English tailoring can be seen through the various tweeds and dinner jackets worn by the actor.

If you can get past the fountain spouting out of my father's head, you can see the young author of this blog (right) and her sister (left) enjoying a trip to Trafalgar Square, smartly attired in their first bespoke overcoats made by their talented father

Photo: Chronica Domus

My father eventually moved on to work for the suiting department at Harrods where he made ladies bespoke clothing. Jackets, skirts, and simple shift dresses were very popular items among the fairer sex.  I recall my mother showing me a fabulous shift dress in deep red wool, with a matching cropped and collared jacket adorned with shiny brass buttons that he had made for her around the time he was dressing some of the wealthiest women in London.  Imagine having your very own personal tailor at your disposal.  My mother always looked fabulously elegant at social functions thanks to my father's creations. My sister and I also benefited from his craft. One of my very favorite childhood photographs was snapped in Trafalgar Square where we were taken often to feed the pigeons. Not only do I cherish this photograph because of the happy memories, but also because the little coats my sister and I are wearing were made by my father.  If you look carefully, the very bottom button of our coats remains unfastened not because we were careless at dressing ourselves for our outing, but for the simple fact that my father was a tailor, and tailors have particular ways of doing things. Who knew there was a code of what buttons to fasten and which to leave unbuttoned. Apparently, this was the correct way to wear one's double-breasted coat. Of course, my father also made the heavy overcoat he sports too in the photograph.

My favorite photograph of Tommy Nutter, whom I consider to have been one of the 20th century's most elegant dandies

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In 1969, one of Savile Row's most colorful characters offered my father a tailoring position. Tommy Nutter was unlike any other tailor on the row. He was flamboyant and larger than life, a gentleman peacock, and a true original.  He completely tore away from the traditional conservative ideal of what a bespoke suit should look like, the type of British cut that had placed Savile Row on the world's map. Thinking about this over forty years later, I can see exactly why my father, a tearaway rebel in his own right, went to work for Mr. Nutter, who was eventually nicknamed The Rebel On The Row, a dandy not seen since the days of Beau Brummell. It was to be a natural fit for my father, and he enjoyed the work there immensely.

Here my father crafted some of the era's wildest and most colorful and innovatively cut suits. Nutters attracted the glitterati of the day unlike any other traditional tailoring firm before it. Suddenly, stars such as Elton John, The Rolling Stones, and The Beatles all wanted to be dressed by Tommy Nutter.

Eventually, Nutters began making ready-to-wear lines and fewer bespoke suits so my father went on to work for various other firms along the row including Edward Sexton, Chittleborough & Morgan, and lastly, Gieves & Hawkes, tailors to the British royals.

Just before his retirement a few years ago, something quite marvelous happened. I shall leave that little story for my next post.

I do hope you'll come back and read the next installment to this series.