I had an existential menswear crisis moment standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom. I was wearing a blue Target suit that cost me $300, and it looked damn good on me. Better than some of the $800+, purportedly “investment grade,” suits hanging in my closet.
How was that possible? For the past few years I’d had it drilled into my head that British tailoring was the gold standard. First, I stumbled on some video on YouTube singing the praises of Savile Row craftsmanship.
Then I started reading about hand stitched buttonholes and floating canvas suit construction. Before I knew it I was saving up for what I assumed would be a required minimum $4,000 investment into bespoke tailoring if I wanted to look polished and professional.
Combine that mistaken knowledge with all the menswear blogs touting tailoring as “worth the investment” and you have a recipe for major client-fatigue.
The problem wasn’t bespoke tailoring, it was that I somehow assumed British = Savile Row. There’s a whole world of quality British-made suits that don’t break the bank. And not all “handcrafted” suits are made equally, either.
Once you know what to look for there are plenty of options for tailoring that won’t have you answering to Jessica about where the holiday fund went. Savile Row = British tailoring the way most people think about it. If you’re curious about the differences in suit construction read my primer here.
The built moment of clarity came when I tried on a made-to-measure suit at Anglo-Italian while visiting London for work. The company was started by former employees of high-end tailoring companies who wanted to make British tailoring more accessible. Prices start at around $2200, which admittedly isn’t cheap but also won’t require selling your car to pay for it either.
I tried on a navy blazer and it was the most perfectly fitting thing I’d ever worn. Allowed full range of motion when I walked, wasn’t stiff or uncomfortable. Pretty much everything I read about superior tailoring came to life when I slipped that jacket on.
The icing on the cake came when the tailor explained how they construct their jackets. Same canvas as the big-name houses, purchase cloth from the same mills in Britain, but streamline the construction process to pass savings along to the consumer. Half price.
Same fundamental construction quality. Lesson? Sometimes you’re just paying for the location.
Did some digging and realised there are more affordable options than dropping four figures on something I’d wear a handful of times a year. I found Chester Barrie, an English company that’s been around since the 1930s and uses traditional techniques but prices suits around $1,000. Pricey for a teachers salary, but more “save up for a few months” than “save up for a few years.” Scored a navy suit on clearance for around $700 during an end of season sale and figured worst case scenario I could return it.
But lo and behold, it’s lasted me longer than lots of $500+ suits I own. The big thing? Canvas construction.
A suit with that technique actually gets better with wear, sort of molds to your body instead of getting saggy like fused suits tend to do over time. Bonus: Paul Smith’s “A Suit To Travel In” line was another great education on balancing quality with cost. Most Paul Smith clothing is made in Italy these days, but this line is constructed in Yorkshire by a factory that’s been around for over 150 years. $900, half- canvassed, and don’t wrinkle when you travel.
Folded one up in my suitcase for a conference last summer and it wasn’t even wrinkled from sitting on the overhead rack overnight. Try that with your Bananamas cheap suit and you’ll look like you slept in it. Tailoring comes down to constructed vs. fused, y’all.
A suit with canvas construction will wear and feel better over time. And you can find quality canvassing at a lot lower price points than I originally thought possible. Companies like Cad & The Dandy have made-to-measure services that start at $1,200 using real floating canvas, as opposed to the glue-on variety you’ll find on suits at that price point that begin to bubble after your first dry cleaning.
I’ve even found quality options at semi-high street prices if you know what to look for. Charles Tyrwhitt’s “premium” line of suits are half- canvassed and run around $600. Nothing I’d mistake for bespoke tailoring, but certainly better constructed than your average department store special.
Good for work rotations when you need something other than your tried and true options. Honestly where it gets really interesting is England’s regional tailors. Made a bunch of stops in Manchester over the years and popped into Whitfield & Ward, where their made-to-measure service starts at $1,100.
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Exactly the same quality of jacket you’ll find in London for double the price. The lesson here? Much of luxury tailoring pricing is London rent priced onto your custom suit.
Another bespoke shop I stumbled into was Michelsberg Tailoring in Leeds. Full bespoke starts at around $1,600. Compare that to £4000+ you’d pay for comparable construction on Savile Row.
Tailor studied at one of the big houses in London before leaving to start his own company. Same high-level techniques, without the inflated pedigree pricing. What started as me trying to figure out how to build a functional work wardrobe shifted into how to buy better suits at a fraction of the price I thought I needed.
Instead of saving up for ages to get one amazing bespoke suit, I could get two or three really well-made mid-tier suits that would give me options. More value over the long run, too, since having a variety of suits you love is important when you wear them weekly. The construction lesson I learned along the way also allows me to shop smarter when things go on sale.
Can tell at a glance whether a suit is canvas or fused just by feeling the chest area. Feel for structure in the lapels. Cheque that pattern-matching at seams looks clean.
The average person can’t tell the difference between a $2k suit and a $5k suit, but everyone can tell the difference between a well-fitted suit and a cheap one that won’t stay tucked in. Even that $300 Target suit I mentioned? Had it tailored (cost me $40) and it looks better than my off-the rack suits that cost three times as much.
Proper fit is more important than construct quality until you hit a certain price point. That’s why I always budget for alterations when I buy suits. Even the most expensive suits will need adjustments unless you’re incredibly genetically-tailored.
What I also learned is that fabric matters just as much as suit construction. Great British wool that’s sewn with half canvassed construction will outlive something made from really high-end cloth + fused construction. Fabric needs to complement the inside of the jacket, not fight against it.
Plenty of these mid-tier British tailors use same fabrics as Savile Row counterparts, they’re just not dropping an extra grand on retailing at the fanciest cloth mills. Funny how when you start wearing well-built suits you can tell the instant you put on a cheap one. It’s literally not snobbery, fused suits feel like rubbish when you put them on.
They’re less comfortable, not as breathable, more restrictive. The easiest way to explain is the difference between a good pair of shoes and a cheap pair. Except worse, because a pair of shoes only cover your feet.
A suit covers most of your body. Last lesson I’ll share here is that British tailoring, in particular, suits my lifestyle. Gives me that structured look I like to wear to look professional without feeling overly stiff.
It’s not as soft as Italian tailoring, but not as boxy as American. British sits that sweet spot of comfortable + structured. I started recommending these mid-level tailors to other teachers trying to up their work wardrobe.
Most had assumed you either spent several grand on a suit or doomed yourself to shopping at Men’s Wearhouse.
The former price-point scares the average person off, and the latter comes with some hefty sacrifices in quality. Steppingstones exist, people.
You just have to know where to look for them. I currently keep rotating between that Chester Barrie navy suit, a grey flannel I found on clearance from Anglo-Italian, and a Paul Smith travel suit (which has probably been worn more than any other in my wardrobe). Cost me less than one trip to Savile Row would have, but gave me options when I need backups for stains/replacements if one is in the dry cleaners.
Personal recommendation? Don’t put all your suits in one basket, literally. That dream of a Savile Row suit isn’t dead for me, but it is deferred.
Might finally make that investment once we’ve got the mortgage paid off and aren’t saving for future toddler troubles. But the suits I’m wearing now fit my needs better than one expensive suit could. Lesson learned.
Sometimes practical really is better.
