Dugdale Bros & Co

Farewell sweet Summer - you've been a joy. This year we've been spoilt rotten, but gin and tonics must now give way to a warming brandy, as the cold, hard barrels of Autumn and Winter swing in our direction.

Now is the time for log fires, pastry and mash and breaking out the winter wardrobe.

Respect to Chris, one of my customers, who had the foresight to order this little beauty in August.



It's a 'covert coat' which gets it's name from the hardwearing 'covert' cloth from which it is made - a process which involves the twisting together of two threads of a similar colour (usually in faun or green) which results in a durable fabric with a slightly mottled finish.

This one is sixteen ounces in weight and was sourced from the cloth merchant Dugdale Brothers of Huddersfield. I can still remember the first time I pushed the bell on their highly polished door.



Based here since 1906 (in what used to be the main Post Office) history and heritage drip off every wood panelled wall. It's imposing, yet warm, and everything feels utterly solid. There's brass fittings, stone floors, solid oak tables and an iron lift that resembles a cage for Hannibal Lecter.

Introducing Keith 'Robert' Charnock, whom I've had the pleasure of doing business with since Michelsberg tailoring was born.



To me, he is the Fantastic Mr Fox of the cloth trade. Elegant, with a penchant for cashmere overcoats, he is charm personified.

A textiles man through and through, he's a born salesman. A true hunter, with eye's that twinkle with shrewdness, his energy levels are incredible.

He'll jump up my stairs two at a time, and has more stories than an Italian grandmother. When it comes to tailoring companies, he's seen and done business with them all.

He began in the trade as an apprentice with John Foster's of Queensbury, before joining his father at the mill Kaye & Stewart in Huddersfield. These guys made cloth for all the top merchants including Dormeuil, H Lesser & sons (now owned by LBD) and Wain Shiell (now owned by Scabal).

It was here that he learnt, and fell in love with, manufacturing but was tempted away by the iconic tweed merchant, John G Hardy, who wanted to get into flogging wool worsteds and needed a man who knew the game.

After that, he joined Dugdale's, and eighteen years later, did a Victor Kiam and bought the company from the last remaining family member, Betty.

Dugdales is a true 'manufacturer without looms' and in my opinion, is one of the best value for money merchants I deal with. Yorkshire is still the epicentre of UK textiles and the knowledge and relationships that have been built up by this firm, is second to none.

They made their name selling barathea's, a fine textured weave with a pebbled effect, often used for blazers, military uniforms and dinner suits. Now, their range of fabrics is far more comprehensive, from the more durable Super 80's and 100's worsteds to finer luxury blends.

I've mentioned their over-coatings, but they've also got a cracking mohair bunch, cashmere jacketings, linens and cottons as well as a stunning selection of top quality cupro bemberg linings.

Since the year 2000, the reigns of power have been handed over to his son Robert, pictured below.



A bouncing bundle of bonhomie he has certainly inherited his father's ability to spin a yarn, in more ways than one! Over a cup of perfectly brewed Yorkshire tea he painted a positive picture for the future.

Bespoke tailoring continues to grow in popularity and whilst thirty percent of the company's business is export, this is set to increase. At the moment, most of this is within Europe (Italy, Germany and Switzerland) but the Middle and Far East present real opportunities.

One of the threats is UK production capacity, as most of the remaining mills, commission weavers and finishers are pretty much flat out. A good thing, but certainly something that needs addressing.

At the moment they employ sixteen people and ship at least two hundred cut-lengths a day. Here's Paul and Dean who cut, pack and send out the cloth.



I shouldn't forget the new blood. Here's apprentice Jake, only seventeen years old, with guns to rival my very own.



And finally there's the office posse that ensure the business runs like a well oiled machine. Introducing June (UK trade & accounts), Carole (export), Amy (UK & Export), Clare (Customer Service), Josh (stock control), Brian (accounts), Lynn (accounts & invoicing) and Robert (Top Cat / Mr Big).



Visiting suppliers, in fact anyone in the trade, gives me a real buzz. It's great to put a face to a name, some of the characters are fabulous and I even pick up a bit of knowledge here and there.

Team Dugdale were an absolute pleasure to be around and their bunches will continue to be a vital part of my tailoring armoury for many years to come.

I'll end this "Strictly" style, do a Brucey shuffle in my Jeffery West's and implore the boys and girls at number five Northumberland Street to "Keep Merchanting!"

A ten inch rise

There aren't many professions where you inform a customer that you're going to give him a ten inch rise in his trousers.

The 'rise' in the world of tailoring is the difference between the outside and inside leg measurements. In simple terms it's roughly the distance between the top of the waistband and the bottom of the fly.

At Michelsberg Tailoring, there are two cardinal sins when it comes to making a pair of strides. A baggy arse (or 'seat') and a floppy crotch (or, to give it its proper name if you're a chap, a 'fork'). Too much rise and a pair of pants can resemble a wet, saggy nappy. Not a good look.

That said, too little rise, particularly on a man with a large seat, and you're on dangerous ground. Nobody wants to see someone prancing about in a pair of nut-huggers with his proverbial balloon knot on display.

A pair of trousers should look 'neat' and above all feel comfortable to wear.

There's a real sixties vibe going on at the moment and most of the trousers I'm making are very fitted, to be worn low on the hips, with narrow bottoms. This style calls for a shorter rise with many a pair resembling those in the picture below.



If you've got thin legs and a relatively slim build then these can look very flattering. Not so, if you're a prop forward with a fifty inch chest with thighs like filing cabinets.

Getting a pair of trousers right requires a good understanding of proportion and getting to grips with what a customer wants and is willing to put up with.

Oscar Wilde said, "Clothes should hang from the shoulder, not the waist." I'm pretty sure he was talking about trousers and the debate surrounding belts versus braces.

As a schoolboy, I adored the film "Wall Street" and was so impressed by Michael Douglas's braces that I invested in a pair of my own.



Here I am at a ball in Harrogate, with ex Bradford Grammar School boys Messrs Brunning, Brayshaw and my brother Edward. Clearly the young lady on my right was unimpressed by my scarlet and yellow striped lovelies, but I think I might have had better luck with the young filly below :-)



Wearing trousers with braces has two distinct advantages. Firstly, because they are worn higher (and therefore require a longer rise than the hipsters I mentioned earlier), it makes the legs look longer. This can be seen in the picture below of me lighting up a Marlboro Red.



Secondly, because they are quite literally hanging from the shoulder, they can be fitted loosely around the tummy. This leaves plenty of room for expansion if you want to indulge in a long lunch, sumptuous dinner, or, beer and pie fest.

When it comes to buying braces there are two firms that immediately spring to mind - Albert Thurstons, who supply to the great and the good on Jermyn street and Savile Row, and the American firm Trafalgar.

Forget those with metal clips as they can damage the cloth. What you need are loops of soft gloving leather with hand stitched button holes, like my wedding braces below.



These naturally require brace buttons which are sewn inside the waistband, often with a 'split-back'. Some of my customers prefer the more old-school style where you have a 'fish-tail' back with the buttons on the outside, as illustrated in the picture below.



Whilst I could extol the merits of braces until I'm blue in the face, there are many chaps out there who simply refuse to entertain them. They either don't like the feel of them on the shoulder, or, have concerns of resembling Bobby Ball, or, a character from a Dickens play.



The alternatives are a belt, or, having strap and buckle side fasteners on the waistband which are pictured below.



These are my favourite choice at the moment. They are very much a nod to the world of bespoke tailoring, work well with braces, and as a bit of a flashy git, I like some bling on the side of my trousers.

Over the past twelve months, I've done the hipster, flat-fronted, skinny legged thing to excess and have decided it's time to revisit my youth. Whilst I'll keep the bottoms fairly narrow, I'm going to break out the braces, go large on the rise and throw in a forward pleat or two.

As for the gorilla mask and Cherry Docs, least said, soonest mended!

An Englishman abroad

In a past life, I'm convinced I was one of the sun-worshipping Inca tribe down in Peru.

God bless those healing rays and everything they stand for. Blue skies, short skirts, the crackle of Hendricks gin on ice and the whiff of Hawaiian tropic. Magical.

Earlier on this month I was having it large in Ibiza, to celebrate my friend Flynny's fortieth birthday. Staying at the Destino Hotel, with big nights on the agenda, it was going to be a glamorous affair, leaving me with the question, what to wear?

The first thing on my shopping list was some new strides. I've got legs like an anorexic flamingo so wanted something fairly fitted, with narrow bottoms to show off the new loafers. Looking through LBD's 'Mersolair' bunch, I picked out a couple of pairs in light-weight cotton, and then something odd happened. I found myself flirting with linen.

Made from the fibres of the flax plant, it's a durable fabric with the ability to absorb and lose water quickly. This means that it is perfect for hot, humid climates. My problem is with the creasing. Ten minutes on your back after pressing and it looks like an elephant's foreskin.

That said, the weather forecast was looking good - big, fat, sweaty sun-shines the whole way through - and so I plumped for a pair in powder blue. There are moments in my life that I will look back on and smile, and wearing them at the nightclub 'Pacha' is one of them.

Ten of us, old friends, hands in the air, screaming our heads off, jumping up and down on sofas in the VIP section, the life of a responsible parent parked for three glorious nights. As I poured myself a glass of Cristal and surveyed the scene below, I was living the life of a playboy and had the trousers to match.



My newly found enthusiasm for linen was strengthened further when my customer Neil commissioned this suit for a forthcoming trip to Tuscany.



Many of the suits I make are head-turners. Sharp, closely fitted numbers, perfect for a night on the town, or a day at the races.

This one is different. It's for chilling. Made up in a relatively heavy Irish linen, it's a lovely warm colour and has a wonderfully relaxed, almost rustic feel about it. I love the patch pockets and the trousers have a split back as they are to be worn with braces. There's even a large 'hare pocket' on the inside to accommodate a newspaper, or, rolled up Panama hat.

It's the perfect attire for the Englishman abroad. I can just see Neil and his wife bimbling along the cobbled streets of Firenze, sitting down to a late lunch of Bistecca alla Fiorentina and a glass of Brunello.

Closer to home, what better attire could there be for a garden party? The jacket draped over the back of a wicker chair, feet up with a glass of Pimm's, laughing with friends, kids running wild, cricket on the radio.

Linen to me is an enigma. It's the scruffy cousin of the Huddersfield luxury worsteds and doesn't take itself too seriously. It's louche, devil-may-care attitude makes you immediately comfortable within it's sun-drenched, wrinkly skin.

Whether it's a bon viveur floating about on his yacht, a man from the Foreign office doing the rounds in Panama, or, a tailor reaching for the lazers in Ibiza, the flax plant is up there with the best of them.

Doing "The Baz" in Ibiza

I've seen that look in my customers eyes before. Desire, longing, want. Every new Bond film spawns a thousand suit fantasies and the latest catalyst for sartorial spending has been The Great Gatsby.

God bless The Silver Screen. I remember the 'Unit 4' cinema in Shipley when I was a child. A lurid horror-show of artex walls, sticky floors and velvet jump seats with built in ash-trays. This was the home of "Ghostbusters", "Cocktail", "the Karate Kid" - my friends and I transfixed as the lion roared through a smog of Marlboro reds.

How times change. I'd decided to check out DiCaprio's latest flick at "Everyman" cinema in the new Trinity shopping centre in Leeds. Ordering my tickets at 'the bar,' this was a far cry from my youth, where a man, who'd clearly given up on life, sold stale Maltesers and warm Pepsi from behind a scratched perspex kiosk.

I was asked whether I'd like my beer chilled, or served at room temperature. Yes, there was still time to order a pizza (which they'd bring to my seat) and the seat turned out to be a sofa, complete with plump cushions and a side-table. So far so good.

Sadly, the film was rather underwhelming. The acting was fine, there was glitz, glamour and frilly knickers in abundance but the story had all the depth of a flea's paddling pool. So, let's move on to more positive aspects, and in fact the reason why I went in the first place - the clothes.



From the off I was in seventh heaven. Enter stage right the tweed jacket. I adored the bellow patch pockets, half-belt on the back, and the way it had been styled with a bow tie and pocket hanky.



Then came Leo's white linen suit. I have a love / hate relationship with 'whites'. On the plus side they look so damn rakish. Perfect for chilling on the deck of a gin palace, or, if you're Tony Montana, visiting a cocaine field in Columbia.

On the down side, white fabrics are transparent and the seams, pocket bags and your underwear are often visible underneath. Heavy linen masks this better than a fine wool cloth, but then you have to live with the creases. What's the alternative? Go commando? Use a heavier, thicker cloth and fully line the trousers?? Do that and you'll end up sweating like a Scouser in Dixons.

In theory, wearing white is a great idea but in practice it can be a bit of a nightmare.



The stand out for me was his pink suit. What a fabulous outfit. I loved the stick-pin through the shirt collar and the tie complimented the cloth quite beautifully. Truly stunning. And how about the double-breasted waistcoat on the right with the widely spaced buttons. Wonderful.



The double-breasted number above was yet another triumph and here is further proof just how much a hat can elevate an ensemble. If you're looking for a Panama, then there's always James Lock & Co, or, Bates in London, however, a customer recommended a company called Pachacuti in Derbyshire and they look the business (and are a fair trade organisation).

I've heard a few grumbles on various clothing forums that the costumes were not historically accurate for the 1920's. As far as I'm concerned, it captured the mood and spirit of the time perfectly, and whose really bothered if the trousers were a touch on the slim slide.

A very good customer of mine recently commissioned this bobby dazzler below.



He's a true gentleman and a huge fan of vintage clothing. It's inspired from days gone by and certainly wouldn't look out of place quaffing champagne on Gatsby's terrace in Long Island.

I've dressed it with a linen pocket hanky, a Michelsberg bespoke shirt (with stick pin) and tie, and the pocket watch is my own. As a tribute to the film's wardrobe department, I only think it fair I should call it "The Baz."

As of this Friday, my wife and I will be having three wonderful nights away in Ibiza (sans kids) to celebrate Flynny's 40th birthday with Jo, Rach, Loz, Georgina, Chandon, Mark, Jo and Lu.


As the corks pop and martinis flow, to the throbbing bass and shaking hips of the coolest clubs in the old town, I'll raise a toast to those bright young things of the 1920's, who set the bar when it comes to doing decadence with style.

Michelsberg - The Movie

With a big thanks to Chris Thompson at Broken Clock Photographic, I can now introduce "Michelsberg - The Movie."

Enjoy.

Trading Places

Yesterday, I was visited in my showroom by a man of the cloth. Not in a Dan Brown, cassock and collar kind of way, but as a purveyor of quality textiles to the tailoring trade.

Introducing Simon Murgatroyd, who runs the cloth business for Brook Taverner & Co. Ltd

We've been doing business together for 7 years and I felt it was high time I visited them at their HQ in Keighley. Selling fabrics to tailors is only a relatively small part of their business, and contributes about £1million to a turnover of £20m, largely derived from corporate-wear and a retail division.



Their set-up is different from the Yorkshire mills I deal with, such as William Halstead and Taylor & Lodge, as they don't do any of the weaving themselves. In essence they are merchants, buying in bulk from mills, often importing cloth from overseas, and then dealing it to tailors in cut lengths. I suppose this makes Simon the "Tony Montana" of the textile trade.



I could just see him rocking up to Première Vision (a big textile show) in a white three piece and snarling at the exhibitors, "Eh, wha' da %!*k do you know 'bout Super 130's?!

Being sensible, Simon is an absolute gentlemen of the highest order and once we were settled down in their showroom, was only too happy to give me an insight into their business.

It starts with looking for a gap in the market, often achieved by visiting the two hundred tailors they deal with up and down the country and asking the right questions.

I love friendly, cheerful, vibrant blues, and designs with a bit of umph. English mills are uber-flexible when it comes to working with designers, but when it comes to holding stock (to be sold internationally in 'cut-lengths' to tailors) most of their stuff tends to be 'typically British,' which means elegant and understated.

Not so, in the case of Bower Roebuck of Huddersfield (part of Scabal), who most certainly do produce stuff that's got the scaramoosh factor. They are constantly bringing out new, seasonal collections, but these are made in very small quantities. On the up side, this keeps things very exclusive, but on the downside, means they can (and do) charge like a wounded rhino.

So, Simon and his chums recently did a smash and grab at the mill Barberis of Italy. When it comes to dress, Italians are the peacocks of the world, and this is reflected in the colour and design of their fabrics.

As a fully vertical mill, they offer a wonderful selection of stock supported ranges and seasonal collections to designers and merchants, but expect relatively big orders in return. A deal was done, and a new Brook Taverner bunch was born.

It might not be as exclusive as Scabal's, but it does mean I can offer something a bit different to my customers at a very good price, and it will be available for at least three years. Molto bene.

They've also recently brought out a new 'tweed' jacketing bunch. Tweed is incredibly popular at the moment, particularly for short, fitted jackets to be worn with jeans. I've got one in my wardrobe that makes me feel like a rutting stag.

Nevertheless, not everyone likes a bit of rough, so they went on the hunt to produce something in a softer blend of wool, cotton and cashmere, which has the tweed vibe, but not the handle.

The project started with a trip to Arthur Harrison's in Huddersfield, a mill owned by the Bulmer & Lumb Group. They had a chat about what they wanted to produce, sample yarns were sourced, and six to eight weeks later a sample 'blanket' was woven. This brings to life the proposed designs across a number of different colourways as shown below.



A selection is made, and fifteen weeks later the cloth is produced and then finished at Holmfirth Dyers. Each design is woven in a minimum quantity of sixty metres, and within a bunch (a selection of cloths), you'll have around fifty designs so things start getting expensive.

Add to this the costs of producing the three hundred bunches (made by the Pattern Book Company in Halifax), that are sent out to tailors to show to their customers, and you are looking at an initial investment of around a hundred grand.

Here's Colin below, in Brook Taverner's pattern room, with the bunches behind him. If you're a customer of mine who has asked for a small swatch of the material you've chosen as a record, he's the chap that sent it to you on my behalf :-)



It's then time for Tony Montana to cross his fingers and hope he's got it right. If he has, then he avoids the helicopter and noose and Keith is kept busy cutting out lengths to send to people like me.



Brook Taverner is a very successful business. It employs over a hundred people, is recognised as the leading corporate wear supplier in Europe and on the cloth side, is going from strength to strength.

Whilst my heart will always leap for joy at the sight of something being made in this country, it's still great to see a local business doing so well.

After all, as Eddie Temple said, in the film 'Layer Cake,' - "The art of good business is being a good middleman."

I'll drink to that.

Naughty Forty

On Wednesday the 27th of March, I hit the big four zero.

Only a week before, I'd driven home through Headingley, closeted in my refined Germanic bubble of leather and walnut veneer. With misty eyes I smiled at the fancy dress wearing students, heading out for a night of Jägerbomb and M-Cat fuelled thrusting and merriment. Bless them. I was young too. Once.

Twenty years, gone in a flash. My ponytail, Danny Rampling tape, and king sized Rizla replaced by a Whangee umbrella, Borsalino fedora and Mulberry briefcase.

And then, I got all WH Auden and the grey clouds moved in:

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Forty. Blumming Forty. I was supposed to be retired and living in the South of France by now. When I grow a beard it looks like a badger is humping my face. How on earth did this happen? What's next? Have an affair, buy a Porsche and get my nipples pierced?

Get a grip Michelsberg. And so I did. I turned off the Blackberry, went 'off grid' and headed down to my spiritual home in Croyde Bay, North Devon. There with family and friends, I spent a wonderful week of surfing, eating ribs, drinking Thatcher's Gold and rejoiced in the cards that life has dealt me.

Yesterday was my first day back at work and it ended with a dose of retail therapy at my neighbours Jeffery West. Here I am with Charli, flaunting my new pair of Rosewood Calf Brogue Gibson's.



I returned home with a spring in my step, my 'new wheels' the perfect excuse to get busy with the utterly awesome birthday present from my brother Edward. Introducing, "La Cordonnerie Anglaise Intendant Valet Box."



La Cordonnerie Anglaise (which means the English Shoemaker) are a French company responsible for producing some of the finest and most luxurious shoe care products in the world.

One thing I have to say about Edward is that he knows his stuff. Whether it's cigars, fine wine, or, coffee machines, the "OCD Geek" gene that festers within his chubby little body, ensures that anything he pens his name to, is usually the best.

This fella is finished in rosewood coloured beech wood and contains the finest brushes, lanoline cream, beeswax polish and mink oil that Aussie Dollars can buy. Cheers bruva - I love you really :-)

For those of you interested in looking after your shoes, click on this blog I did earlier.

Yes, as I sit here at home in my study, a pile of my daughters Easter eggs to my left and a malt whisky to my right, life at forty feels pretty god damn good.

The road ahead will no doubt have its twists and turns. Maybe one day, it will end up on the Côte d'Azur? One thing I can be sure of is that every step of the way will be done so in immaculately presented footwear.

Joyeuses Pâques!