Festive Finery

Christmas, to me, should be a Dickensian schmaltz-fest of ruddy faced joy and conviviality.

The clatter of a carriage on cobbled streets. The crunch of snow under stout leather boots. An Inn with a crackling log fire where bearded men swill porter and supp mutton stew.

No Sky Sports. No games of pool. Just raucous laughter bathed in the warm glow of gas-lamps, as wenches with flaming locks, heaving bosoms and velvet dresses behold the swelling scene.

These days it's Michael Boublé, frilly knickers, half price scotch and flights out to Tenerife. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas, but oy vey, you've got to work at it.

To me it's about family, friends and a time for reflection, reaching out spiritually and giving the liver a good kicking. The latter usually involves a charity ball, dinner dance, or, back-slapping industry awards bash, where more often than not, the dress code is Black Tie.

Formal wear is to the dandy what formula one is to a racing driver. It's the ultimate show. The Big Kahuna. The dinner suit is the dark knight in your wardrobe, a creature of the night, just a DBS and PPK short of 007.

One of my coat-makers is constantly telling me to 'keep it simple' and I get untold grief for my love of doing something different.

I want a Michelsberg jacket or lounge suit to turn heads. Contrast coloured button holes, velvet top collars, flower loops, secret pockets and flashes of silk behind the working cuffs are all on the menu. The trick is to balance these with the cloth to create something stylish and elegant. Go overboard and you've got a costume, not an outfit.

Mark Ronson was recently lambasted for wearing red socks at an Amy Winehouse Foundation fundraiser.



I love red socks but not with a tuxedo. Whilst I believe clothes should be an expression of who you are, when it comes to formal wear I am a purist. There is a time and place for everything and certain events require a modicum of decorum. As such, you need to find the Methodist within and show restraint.

Nothing beats the understated beauty of a tuxedo. Done right it is minimalism at its finest, a monochrome work of art. The fit must be perfect and it must be made using the finest materials.

To start off with you need pure silk facings for the lapels and pocket jets. Outrageously expensive and a nightmare to press, what they lose in practicality is more than made up for in downright gorgeousness.

Then the cloth. The very DNA of the suit itself. I've just delivered a stunning creation using a Super 150's and cashmere blend from Scabal. It's incredibly light and feels like the mons of an angel.

Here's one below I made for Andy in cashmere & summer kid mohair produced by Taylor & Lodge of Huddersfield. It was used to make Daniel Craig's tux in Quantum of Solace, is stiffer than the Scabal fabric and tailors very sharply.



When it comes to colour you've got three choices. Black, noir, or, schwarz. That said, Ralph Fiennes wore a beautiful midnight blue number for the Skyfall premiere and so will my customer Lesley (pictured below) for his Christmas party.



When it comes to styling it's very simple. The jacket should be single-breasted with a peak, or, shawl lapel (as above), have one button, jetted pockets (no flaps), side vents and a four button working cuff with silk covered buttons.

The notch lapel on a dinner is the work of the devil. An absolute shocker. It's up there with 'novelty' dress-shirts and Bruce Forsythe inspired waistcoats.

Double-breasted coats can look great. Prince William wore a fine specimen on his wedding day but the downside is that you have to keep it buttoned. Traditionalists would say no vents on a dinner suit, but god help if you've got a fat arse, or, want to put your hand in your pocket.

Trousers should be worn higher on the waist with braces (from Albert Thurston, or, Trafalgar), flat fronted or forward pleats, silk down the sides and plain bottoms.

I wear a double-breasted marcella waistcoat with a silk lapel but the 'horse-shoe' is particularly popular at the moment and certainly something I'd pen my name to.

Final flourishes.

A crisp white Michelsberg bespoke shirt with fly front (concealed buttons) or studs. I'm not really a fan of wing collars and cummerbunds and think them best left to Transylvanian Counts and matadors.

A white linen, or silk, hanky tucked into the out-breast-welt. Check out Turnbull & Asser on Jermyn Street. Their shop is an Aladdin's cave for anyone with a serious silk fetish.

Invest in a pair of long black silk socks, preferably to the knee. The flash of a pasty white calf covered in hair is not a good look. I'd recommend Pantherella, or, Bresciani.

Finally black patent shoes (try Church's, or, Jeffery West) and most importantly a self-tied bow tie.

So there you have it. The perfect tux, Michelsberg style. Here's one below that is being collected today by my customer Sean.



Christmas is going to be great this year. It's less than four weeks to go until my Mother's roast goose with prunes and Armagnac hits the table.

I've got all sorts of little treats lined up including a night out at the Bierkeller and dinner with my old school friends Jedoir, HotBongDaddy (don't ask) and the Bainer.

There'll be a trip to London, Bournemouth and of course a stroll down Savile Row.

Wishing you all the best for the build up and here's to the ringing of Rudolph's bells and the Michelsberg cash register.

Wedding Bells & Summer Swells

This month I thought we'd kick things off with the meaning of life.

Maslow would have us believe it is to reach 'self-actualisation.' Robin Williams, in the film Dead Poets Society, would probably just say 'Carpe Diem.' I like the phrase 'smile and the world smiles with you' and believe, although a bit schmaltzy, that it is up to us all to find and bring as much joy into this world as possible. Sick bags anyone?

This month the pressure has been on delivering a crazy amount of wedding suits and at times I've felt like I was running on empty. But in amongst the chasing of coat makers, cloth merchants and pressers, there have been some truly lovely moments.

As many of you know, I'm not shy about complimenting our own work but it is a real rush when a customer grins in the mirror at final fitting, we shake hands and they say thank you. I've had some really touching emails and notes, and one such ray of sunshine in my inbox went as follows:

"It has been an absolute joy to know and work with you and the whole experience has been fantastic from start to finish. The finished article is something I shall wear with pride and I couldn't have asked for a more amazing wedding suit.

You're a top bloke and Lisa and I wish you all the very best with the business and your growing family."

Just what you need on a Monday morning.

And last week I received this picture from the recently married Mr & Mrs Arkle.



James is a rugby player with the shoulders and legs of an ox and the waist of a beaver. He wanted something seriously fitted along the lines of Tom Ford but was struggling to find something that fit.

I think we did rather well. The cut is a classic one button, with a shawl lapel in the finest silk. The cloth, a wonderfully traditional black Barathea, is set off with a silver silk lining and a few Michelsberg touches to provide the proverbial cherry on top. In short, a veritable Bobby Dazzler. And don't they look happy! :-)

I am lucky in the fact that my working life does provide me with a great deal of satisfaction, but like all businesses there are still problems and hassles to be dealt with and at times you just need a break to re-charge.

So, last week, it was my turn to shut up shop and go away in search of some joyful moments of my own, and my god, I found them. The destination, Croyde Bay in North Devon and this was the view from my bedroom window.



If you don't know already, one of the biggest loves in my life is surfing and is one of the rare moments when I actually stop talking. That first wave at Saunton Sands washed off six months of hard graft and was food for the soul.

As I slid along a perfectly peeling right-hander on my ten foot noserider, time stood still. I felt weightless and totally connected to nature. After what felt like hours, I kicked out, dropped under the water, and returned to the surface, grinning like a madman. I screamed out in sheer bloody happiness, the hiss and smell of salt water all around me, the sun sparkling down on the crashing surf.

If the meaning of life is finding joy, then that moment was it and I'd trade in all the bespoke suits in the world to have it again.

Other highlights included early - and I do mean early - morning walks with my little girl Avy (pictured below), and dinner with my wife Nikki, whilst the baby-sitters did their duty. Thanks Rosemary & Colin!



Yes, I return to the wicked world of work with my batteries full, in search of future smiles and Maslow's finest.

Michelsberg. James Michelsberg...

Is it just me that's stood in front of a mirror before a black tie dinner, raised an eyebrow and in a shocking Scottish accent uttered the immortal words, "..the name's Bond. James Bond."

Tonight I am attending an awards dinner as I have been included in the "42 under 42" run by Insider Magazine - more than enough excuse to treat myself to a new dinner suit.

It's a cheeky single breasted number with peak lapels in ribbed silk and for the 'scaramoosh' factor I've gone for a marcella waistcoat with a black silk back. The cloth is a Venitian weave from Edwin Woodhouse which provides a wonderful sheen and whilst it is very fitted, I've added a little more drape across the chest to accommodate my Walther PPK.

Next on the list was a quick call to Mark Hill, Sales Manager at Aston Martin JCT600 in Leeds and one Vanquish S later, my 007 fantasy was complete. Tim (who took the piccie) enthused about it's weight distribution, the 6.0 litre V12 engine developing 520 horsepower and a maximum speed in excess of 200 mph, but as I'm no petrol head it went in one ear and out of the other. To me, it just looks like the DB (the dog's bollux) and when I pushed the button to start the engine, the sound made my testicles tingle.

So. Threads - check. Wheels - check. All that is required is some arm candy and as you can see below, I've got my own version of Pussy Galore.



Introducing (from left to right) Anne, Sue, Helen, Diane, Sue, Janet and Sarah. These ladies know more about the inside of a pair of Men's trousers than most and believe me when I say it takes a brave man to come into their domain asking to take pictures! They are all great fun, put up with my last minute requests and are the reason why my client's trousers look so good. Honey Ryder wishes she has made so many men so happy.

Anyway, enough rambling and back to the dinner suit, or as Americans call it the "Tuxedo." Our friends over the pond claim they invented it and that one was first worn by a Mr. Griswold Lorillard, however, Henry Poole & Co claim they made a short smoking jacket for the Price of Wales. Legend has it that a wealthy New Yorker was invited to dinner by the Prince, asked him the dress code, was recommended to go to Savile Row for such a garment and when he got back to the Tuxedo Park Club in the States, wore it to many ooh's and aah's and the rest is history.

Who cares who invented it? The bottom line is that, white tie and tails aside, it is the single most elegant outfit in a man's wardrobe. It can be single or double breasted and the rules say it's supposed to have no vents. As you now know the rules, break them because side vents mean you can (shock horror) put your hand in your pocket without the jacket flying towards your arm pit and are ultimately more flattering on the seat.

The advice I offer is only wear a white jacket at outdoor events in the summer, bow-ties should be black and tied by yourself, pop a white hanky in your pocket and wear a highly polished pair of patent shoes. Whilst cummerbunds and wing collars add a little variety, I would say don't bother and keep it very simple.

And finally a little gem for you - when that gorgeous girl comes up to you and asks your name, here's what you say...