I’m a clotheshorse. There’s no way to argue against it. While not as massive and all expanding as some of my other internet counterparts, to say that I have a small wardrobe, capsule wardrobe, modest wardrobe, or any other diminutive indicator would be underselling the fact that I have a pretty decent selection of traditional men’s clothing at my disposal – one that (luckily) still fits inside your average closet.
Most of this collection was settled on through a painful system of trial and error, and while I’ve always been fitted up, some of those early or more experimental fits might have been closer to the icarian side of the word, stemming from the often touch and go game of vintage clothing.
Vintage clothes, generally, will not be perfect, and boy have I learned this the hard way. Not only are you fighting against the ever-present issue of fit (which pervades all non-custom clothing, but more on that later), but also of age, less so the passage of time on the material (which can be a factor) but more so the issue when you’re fighting against the poor, or objectionable, taste of the past. That vintage suit from Brooks Brothers can always be brought to a tailor, but that polyester, bell bottomed, 6 inch lapel flying off the jacket, “thrift store heat” can’t be fixed by anything but an act of god.
To me this is both part of the charm and chance of vintage clothing, the ability to find diamonds in the rough amid rows of polyester suits from brands that existed in one Idaho department store in 1994. Instead of a nameless navy, you might find a vintage Polo RL piece, or a Brooks Brothers suit from when the tag was still on the neck. Or, which is my favorite, you might find a long lost remnant of the former staple of American men’s clothes, the local men’s store. Good quality items, often made to measure for clientele, that are usually conservative in fit and material as well as pretty cheap due to the lack of easily identifiable name branding that drives up other vintage markets. Heavy, old school English worsteds, bullet proof tweeds, large scale patterns before the great shrinkage of the 1980s, these are the siren calls of traditional vintage.
But for all of luster and adventure of finding good vintage – as well as a more affordable price tag – for many clothing enjoyers (remember, clotheshorse) there are times when vintage can fail to live up to the expectations and desires of the thrifter or, even worse, can be a detriment to the whole wardrobe.
I’ve detailed in the past my rather specific, genre bending, Old World style that I’ve been working up in the lab over the past year or so, as well as the difficulties of clearing out a wardrobe that is inspired by and works within some diverging areas of style and taste. Often us vintageheads end up filling the wardrobe with a series of good-enoughs, as if buying a series of ill fitting sport coats will make the ideal spontaneously materialize. Here I find that as my taste narrows and develops around specific fabrics, constructions, and all around vibes, that vintage clothing can’t as easily scratch the itch as it once did, especially now that custom clothing is now more feasible and accessible to me than it was on the Brown campus.
With custom clothing now an actual possibility in my life, I wanted to break down what I consider worth making custom vs worth sticking to vintage, both for my own sanity and any other readers stuck in the same situation as I am.
Overcoats:
Overcoats are probably the most tricky item in this little cost-benefit analysis of mine, as they are more forgiving in fit and style than a suit or a shirt might be. For me, the worth of a bespoke overcoat mainly comes down to style and fabric. A classic camel hair polo coat, for example, seems wrong to get made custom. It’s too intertwined with the history of American ready to wear (Brooks, J. Press, basically all the guys from my last article) to be able to see it as something other than the king of off the rack coats, complete with its machine stitched swelled edges along the lapels and cuffs. The same goes for balmacaan coats made from Harris or other homespun tweeds. The style and proportions of the cut has barely changed in a hundred years so I’m not sure if it would be worth investing thousands of big ones for a big wool sack that one could find for far cheaper with a quick search on ebay.
What, I think, does motivate one to get an overcoat made custom are the specific style points not easily available on the vintage market or very particular fabric. While you might be able to find a vintage tweed balmacaan or a polo coat with some luck and smart searching, you’re probably not going to find that full belted, ulster collar, triple patch pocket, alpaca teddy bear coat on ebay nor are you going to be able to find a houndstooth, fly front, peak lapel, raglan sleeve smock so easily. These ultra specific variations are what custom commissions are for. The same goes for styles of overcoats that haven’t had sustained popularity to afford a wide range of vintage. Ulster coats with back belt and patch pockets as well as a Navy Guards coat are practically non-existent on the vintage market save a few sellers who know exactly what they have and how much to charge for it. Another thing you have to contend with is that overcoats are one of gateway drugs to menswear as well as the most talked about item every year when the trend setters start posting (usually around this time of year, something about menswear and fall goes together like apple picking and donuts). So as trends swing and people look to the vintage market (which is also currently trending) you might see some crazy jumps in prices for certain items. Polo Coats, which are the current darling of the menswear scene, have been going for a minimum of 500 on Ebay for about a year now, with Ralph Lauren’s particular model almost always priced above 1000. If prices keep rising it might actually be better to get one made for you instead of shelling out what might amount for a retail price if you were to buy a Polo Coat now.
Suits:
Suits have always been the mainstay of the custom business for a good reason, a bad suit will tank the entire attempt at elegance. There’s no way to correct this other than getting a well fitting suit. The intricacies of what makes a good suit go far beyond the basic advice you might get from your boilerplate menswear influencers – who all seem to pump out the same instragram reel going “fit is the most important thing” without any real explanation about what fit means – and into the realm of personal and social taste. Not only should a suit fit, but it should be an extension of what the wearer seeks to project out into the world and – at the highest level – a collaboration between a discerning customer and master craftsman. This is difficult to do with ready to wear, as you are not only going up against a silhouette or block pattern that was not designed for you, but also the taste of a design team who have to balance their interest in creativity and uniqueness with the cold hard reality of a profit margin.
That isn’t to say that creativity is the secret code to a good suit, most men will never stray beyond a navy worsted and that is not a bad thing (some of you don’t have the sauce to pull off patterns and that’s ok). The issue is that with ready to wear is that you are directly interacting, sometimes combating, with the taste of someone else. In today’s day and age, where accessible tailoring (that is, the type of tailoring the average man will wear, I’m not talking about the very talented people at The Armoury and other traditionally inspired brands) is limited in cut and fabric, it can be hard for someone to really connect with the product they are wearing. The advantage with a custom suit is that you’re able to create something that feels you, since it was made for your person and no one else. Finding a good mtm service with a cut you like, or ideally a tailor who can work with you for truly custom creations, can unlock new opportunities of style and elegance not accessible to most men.
I will, however, caution that the motivators above are for those who are inherently interested in clothing enough to be willing and able to discern things like cut, house style, fabric weight, and pattern. If you’re going to spend two thousand dollars on an ultra slim fit modern MTM service that looks exactly like J. Crew, just go buy J. Crew and save your money. Custom work is not only on the tailor or store, it’s on you to be competent.
Some suit styles are worth going the custom route, due to the difficulties of creating such a style as well as the rarity of it on the vintage market. Drape cut suits in the style of Anderson and Sheppard and friends are almost impossible to find on the vintage market, especially if you’re interested in the old school cuts of the 1930s. But, if you’re more interested in a traditional American sack cut, it might be better to go vintage as there aren’t really many makers who can cut the suit in the old school style. You’ll also save quite a bit as there’s no shortage of old Brooks Brothers, Chipp, J. Press, and smaller ivy inspired brands out there.
Other(s):
While coats and suits were my main focus of today’s breakdown, I imagine it would be helpful for those of you practically impaled on the fence to address some of the smaller items that one might be considering. Shirts-wise, I find it’s anyone's game. I have a pretty standard shirt pattern so I haven’t had any trouble with fit, the old school Brooks, Paul Stuart, and Mercer and Son’s serving my needs well. This is also aided by the fact that I generally prefer solid colors and spread collars which basically every shirt maker since the advent of the attached collar has made at some point or another. The only thing I would consider commissioning would be long collars in the style of the old Hollywood point of the 1930s or things in fun patterns so my wardrobe can look like that scene from the 70s Great Gatsby movie. Such beautiful shirts indeed. I feel the same way about trousers as well, the old man shops and their old man pants have served me well thus far and I really only like to wear solid color wool flannels and khakis so my needs are well met. Oxxford makes the best cut for my taste but their stuff is a little more pricey on the vintage market for good reason. In general, the same principles apply: if you can’t find anything that’ll fit you on the vintage market or off the rock, or you need (need is the key word here) something that just isn’t available go get it custom, other than that, you might be surprised at what you can find.
I’ll probably write something more in depth about custom commissioning, fabric choices and the like. But for now, thank you for reading!