Bespoke Switching Costs

Bespoke clothing customers generally have it pretty good. The stuff usually fits, and most of the time will outlive its wearer. The suppliers are low pressure and polite, and ordering another pair of shoes or a batch of shirts is as easy as sending an email describing what you want. Several months later, your order arrives without further ado. But life is not all cashmere and vicuna.

There's an old saying that a bank will only lend you money when you don't need it. The corollary to that is that you should only begin a relationship with a new bespoke clothing artisan when you don't need new clothes.

Beginning a new relationship with an artisan feels like you're living life in slow motion, particularly if you don't get to the artisan's home city and have to wait for a semi-annual visit to see progress. For example, it was two years from the time I placed my first bespoke shoe order with George Cleverley & Co. until they would accept my order for a second pair. After measurement and payment of my deposit, they made my last. Then we had a fitting for the shoes, some adjustments, another fitting, and a few more adjustments before the shoes were delivered more than a year after the order. And then they had me wear the shoes for another six months to ensure that the fit was right.

Now, I'm not complaining about Cleverley. They get it right, and an order placed today takes only a couple of months. But if I then want a pair of shoes from, for example, Tony Gaziano (whose black bluchers are pictured to the left), the process starts all over.

Tailored clothing is the worst. It's prudent to begin a relationship with a new tailor with a single suit. Tailors being only human, it's rare that the first suit approaches perfection - usually it's OK, the second one is fine and the third is about good as you're ever going to get from that source.

In addition, most tailors visit my city twice a year. So unless I get to their home city in between their visits, the basted fitting occurs in six months and the second fitting in a year. If the suit is perfect, the buttonholes can be cut and the garment sent to its new owner, but more often than not it takes another fitting. Eighteen months from start to finish and only then can you order more clothes.

Despite the obstacles, circumstances caused me to venture into the unknown twice this year. After the professional demise of one tailor, I sought out Peter Harvey of Fallan & Harvey and commissioned a tan fresco odd jacket for summer with gold metal buttons. Peter makes a middle of the road coat with a higher button point that will be a new experience for me.

I also finally met with Thomas Mahon on his visit last month, and he has started a double breasted suit in a ten ounce mohair and wool blend. Thomas's style is the classic 1930's soft and unstructured drape, which I prefer.

I'm hoping I can enjoy long relationships with both men because it's a lot of trouble to switch.