He's wearing a ready-to-wear suit that was made to imitate certain Southern Italian tailoring details, typically done by bespoke tailors. Before I elaborate, I should note that there's nothing wrong with wearing RTW suits or machine-made versions of hand-executed details.
The pleating you see here is called a waterfall sleevehead. It's associated, but not exactly the same, with something called spalla camicia, which means "shirt shoulder" in Italian.
A normal suit will have a shoulder that looks like it's running under the sleeve (pic 1). A spalla camicia shoulder will look like the sleeve is running under the shoulder, not coming on top of it (pic 2). It's called a "shirt shoulder" because this is how your shirts are made.
This distinction has caused some confusion in my threads by people who may not be familiar with tailoring. They ask, "Why does he look like he has action figure arms?" It's because, in traditional tailoring, the sleevehead has a small ridge.
But in Southern Italy, and specifically Naples, you often see a very soft shoulder line combined with a spalla camicia construction, such that you don't get any ridge. The idea here is to make the jacket look a little more "natural" on the body
This has upsides and downsides. A slight ridge can help build up the shoulder without adding actual padding. It creates a more T shape. If you have narrow or rounded shoulders, a spalla camicia construction may not be flattering on you. (@SartorialNotes looks great here tho)
But this doesn't address why you see the pleating.
In Naples, great pride is taken to show a suit was handmade. On Savile Row, a suit is typically finished with a single row of handmade pick stitching. This prevents the edge from curling. The resulting dimples are very subtle.
In Naples, you will often see two rows of pick stitching, especially on more casual garments such as a linen suit or a casual sport coat. They will also do it with a thicker buttonhole twist thread to really make sure you can see it. The handmade quality here is unmistakable.
Sleeveheads are always cut larger than the armhole. A more conservative tailor will gently distribute that fullness around the armhole. But in Naples, some will push the fullness toward the top, so you get that waterfall effect seen here.
A small detour: this is not exclusive to Naples. Here is an Anderson & Sheppard sport coat from the 1980s or '90s. You can see how they put all the fullness under the arm (hence the pleating). This is called a "mutton leg." A&S doesn't do this anymore, but it was once done.
Back to Naples. The pleating is put into the top of the sleevehead to loudly announce that the garment was handmade. But the effect can be done better or worse, and whether someone likes the detail is a matter of taste. I'm ambivalent about it, but prefer subtly, like this:
About ten years ago, as Southern Italian became more popular, details such as this started to show up in ready-to-wear. And sometimes, they were just not very well done. You can tell Hawley's suit is ready-made bc the pick stitching looks like it was done with a nailgun.
It's very rare to see hand-executed pick stitching on a ready-made suit. The detail is typically done with a Complett or AMF machine bc most people can't tell the difference.
The shirring on Hawley's suit (pic 1) is a poor imitation of the real thing (pic 2).
Few people will notice these details. When shopping, it's more important to avoid things like this collar gap (see how the jacket collar does not touch his neck). But I thought I'd explain the weird sleevehead and why it looks like he has a pirate shoulder.
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A lot of attention is paid to craft traditions in Western Europe and North America, such as handsewn Hermes leather goods and bespoke Savile Row suits. But the uneven focus leads some to believe that things made outside of these places are low quality.
This is not true. 🧵
When I was on a menswear forum, there was a guy whose style I greatly admired. Like others on the forum, Niyi Okuboyejo loved men's tailoring. He had a technical understanding of how a jacket should hang from the shoulders. He also knew how to put things together in a classic way
At the same time, he also knew how to do things in his own voice and style, but in a way that looked good and not haphazard. Sometimes this was about adding a funky tie; other times, it was playing with materials and silhouette. All of these are still suits and sport coats!
I think "fun socks" should be used judiciously, as a lot of what's worn today feels more childish than whimsical. IMO, most men should avoid them entirely.
But if you insist on wearing them, here are some suggestions on how to make them look less bad. 🧵
Any time this topic comes up, people invariably bring up George HW Bush, who was known to wear fun socks later in life. While I wasn't a fan of those socks, I agree that Bush was well-dressed. I also think when you reach a certain age, you have license to wear whatever you want
There are a few reasons why most outfits look bad with these sorts of socks. First, most men are not at that senior age where these socks become charming.
Second, most of these socks look like something you acquire by sending in a proof-of-purchase from a cereal box.
Most people think of black tie as the most formal kind of menswear, but technically speaking, it's semi-formal evening attire. Historically, men wore this kind of outfit to dinner or evening shows, such as going to the opera or ballet. Or celebrations such as NYE parties.
White tie is true formalwear. It differs from black tie primarily in how it requires a long tailcoat (black tie originated when men cut the tails off their coats to create a more casual garment for dinner). Also requires a white waistcoat, white tie, and wing collar.
If you're interested in bespoke tailoring and based in the United States, I have some trunk show announcements to share with you. Since Twitter recently changed their formatting options, I will be doing this as a thread. 🧵
Matthew Gonzalez
There's a long history of cross-border influence and immigration in tailoring, but as far as I know, Matthew Gonzalez is the first American to operate under his own banner on Savile Row. Born and raised in Southern California, he moved to London about twenty years ago to pursue a degree in bespoke tailoring from the London College of Fashion. Thereafter, he climbed the ranks — moving from undercutter at Thom Sweeney to cutter at Dunhill and eventually Huntsman, where he achieved his longtime goal of cutting on Savile Row.
Today, he runs his own firm, where he merges his California sensibility with his training in British bespoke craftsmanship. He recently told me he admires a photo of JFK staring out of a window. The President dressed in a dark worsted suit, white button-up shirt, and dark silk necktie, but everything about the photo looks very casual and relaxed. This, he told me, is what American style means to him.
Gonzalez cuts suits and sport coats inspired by that mid-century American tailoring, although he's adamant about not wanting the clothes to look like historical costumes. Thus, while the jackets have a soft, natural shoulder line, he sticks with front darts and prefers side vents (rather than the dartless front and hook vent characteristic of Ivy Style). The lapels have a moderate width and minimal belly (the curve sometimes distinguishing an older style of British tailoring). The garments are designed so they can be teamed with a dress shirt and tie, or something more casual such as a chambray button-up.
Given Gonzalez's penchant for slightly more relaxed, casual attire, it's no surprise that he also offers made-to-measure suede jackets, wool-cashmere shawl collar cardigans, and denim Western shirts (made without the contrast stitching, so they look more at home with tailoring). He's also one of the few bespoke tailors I've met who "gets it" when it comes to the polo coat, arguably the most iconic of American overcoat styles. Gonzalez tells me he thinks a polo coat should have letter box patch pockets, a half belt, gauntlet cuffs, an inverted back pleat, and a center button vent. But crucially, he also thinks the split-sleeves should be made with a lapped seam. To my eye, this makes the garment more casual and sporty—truer to its original roots—and allows the tailor to shape the sleevehead.
Consider Gonzalez if you share the same sensibilities: a love for classic American tailoring, but a suspicion of styles that are too anachronistic, and a bias towards clothes that feel more relaxed and casual. The point about Gonzalez using a split-sleeve with a lapped seam demonstrates that he takes care of details that may not occur to a client, but will be appreciated years down the road.
Taillour
In bespoke tailoring, there's a generally accepted rule that most clients would do well to observe: choose a company based on their house style and stay close to it. The term "house style" refers to the tailor's established methods, which combine to create clothes with a distinguishable fit and feel. Just as you wouldn't order burritos from a ramen chef, you shouldn't ask an English tailor for an Italian jacket (or vice versa).
Taillour is one of the few exceptions. Co-founder and head cutter Fred Nieddu has worked in the bespoke tailoring industry for decades, cutting for firms such as Thom Sweeney and even teaching pattern drafting courses at the London College of Fashion. A good percentage of his current workload involves making clothes for films and TV shows. In fact, you may have seen his creations. He made all the menswear for the Netflix series The Crown, the suits in the film The Phoenician Scheme, and one of the colorful costumes for Wonka. Given this experience, he's more flexible than most tailors regarding what he's willing and able to make.
Still, I think it's always a good idea to stay close to the house style. I think of Taillour's house style as very soft but architectural in its lines. Nieddu uses a full body canvas and only a bit of laptair near the wearer's collar bone to prevent the jacket from sinking. The shoulders are minimally padded, giving the garments a very light feel. While Neapolitan tailors are known for a similar construction, Taillour's jackets have a bit more room and shape. The shoulder line is very straight, and the chest is slightly full. When combined with those characteristically straight lapels and larger jacket collar, I find Taillour's jackets have an angular appearance reminiscent of Apparel Arts drawings.
Consider Nieddu if you want a tailor who's a bit more flexible in terms of what they're willing to make (although, again, I recommend tweaking at the margins, not bringing in a photo of something and asking for it to be copied). He has also made clothes for women, which will be useful if you're looking for someone who can make a women's suit, sport coat, or overcoat.
Summer is around the corner and soon you'll read a bunch of tweets about how every man should have a pair of loafers.
I don't think anyone needs anything, but if you're shopping for a pair, let me show you how to think about loafers. This applies to any wardrobe item. 🧵
When it comes to choosing loafers, a simple answer will go something like this: "Such-and-such brand makes the best pairs." Or "Here's a hierarchy of loafers." IMO, such approaches are reductive and often devolve into trend or status pursuits.
Let me show you another approach.
As always, it's helpful to start at the beginning.
There are a few origin stories for loafers, but most lead back to Norway. If menswear lore is to be believed, then the penny loafer comes from a simple slip-on shoe known as the teser, which was once worn by Norwegian peasants.
Someone asked if I could tell them where to buy a pair of good chinos. In this thread, I will tell you, but my answer is not simple. On the upside, I think this is a better approach when shopping for clothes and you can apply it to any kind of item. 🧵
A simple answer will go something like this: "Such-and-such makes the highest quality chinos." Or "this brand provides the best value." While potentially useful in some respects, I don't think this gives you the fullest picture.
Instead, let's start at the beginning.
During the 1898 Spanish-American War, US troops stationed in the Philippines wore sand-colored pants made from a heavy cotton twill woven in China. Since the Philippines had been under Spanish colonial rule at this time, the locals call these "pantalones chinos" (Chinese pants).