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My grandparents were bootmaker in Alsace, France…

Sartoria Pino Peluso bespoke suit


Beauty of Handmade Jacket

Chad Park of B&Tailor is sporting a 3 year old Sportscoat that gets used on a regular basis. These shots were taken after a long day at the atelier showing natural creases/wrinkles that come with actively living in a jacket.

No matter how creased the jacket is, it is still sitting properly on the body with a flattering silhouette. I also like the fact the the entire look is very current and you can see lots of subtle details of handwork that enhances the overall effect of the jacket on Chad.

The jacket is made of a delicate fabric that is a cashmere and silk blend. It an luxurious and fine fabric that people often think of as too fragile and not so hard wearing. Well, with proper care and wearing, one can enjoy wearing a garment made of fine/delicate fabric for a long time. 

So true !

(via laboreethonore)

The Neapolitan “Sartoria” Experience


One of the best menswear articles I’ve ever read is a three-part series on Neapolitan tailoring by Filangieri. The piece was originally posted at Ask Andy about Clothes but it was unfortunately lost when the forum’s servers crashed a few years ago. Luckily, some obsessives saved it on their hard drives and every once in a while, you’ll see the article pop up again for posterity on StyleForum

We see some overlapping themes here from my interview with Gianluca Migliarotti - the lineage of Italian men, going from the grandfather down to the grandson, being served by the same tailor; the coffee one is greeted with when they first see the Maestro; the beautifully patient process of bespoke tailoring; and, of course, the Old-World craftsmanship that fascinates us in the first place.  

The article ends a bit abruptly, unfortunately, but I guarantee you that this will be one of the best articles about menswear you’ll ever come across. I plan to go to Naples sometime in January and will write about my experience then. Hopefully I can come out with some words as beautiful as Filangieri’s, but I doubt it. 

(Note that the photos are taken from Christian Kerber)



One of the true secrets of the elusive Neapolitan suit lies in its birthplace: the “sartoria”, the quite and private tailor’s laboratory where every new dress project is envisioned by the customer and created by the skilled hands of the Maestro.

Unlike their Savile Row colleagues, Neapolitan tailors don’t use to display suits and sport-coats in street shop windows to showcase their product to the public.

They don’t need to lure their potential clientele because they’re already doing extremely well with their current customers, and they don’t want to expand their small business because they don’t want to compromise the unique quality of their craftsmanship by means of outsourcing part of the suit-making process or employing apprentices that are still too young to master the intricacies of the craft.

In Naples, bespoke fashion is first and foremost a matter of family tradition: many young men are introduced to the pleasures of custom elegance by their fathers, and some tailors are proud to serve up to three generations of gentlemen of the same ancestry: son, father and grandfather. Other customers are introduced by friends, business associates or by other members of the lively Neapolitan clothing artisans community (i.e. bespoke shirt-makers, tie-makers and shoe-makers).

The best Neapolitan tailors run their small business in medium-sized apartments located in one of the beautiful, historical palaces of the Chiaia and Toledo districts.

You enter the building’s courtyard, climb the old granite staircase (every ancient Neapolitan palace has a large, dark granite staircase) and you are you are greeted by the Maestro himself, usually wearing a tape measure around his neck.

You’re invited to have a seat in a comfortable armchair in the “salotto” (the room where the tailor receives his customers) and he invariably asks you: “Ve site già pigliato o’ cafè? (Did you already have a cup of coffee ?). It means that even if you’ve just had one on your way to the “sartoria”, you’re still supposed to drink another “tazzulella” with the Maestro.

You start discussing a series of topics (usuall unrelated to the purpose of your visit, like food, sports, politics etc.) until you express the wish to order a new suit.

That’s when you really have to open your heart to the Maestro, because he needs to know everything about your project (cloth, color and every possible detail) and about your personal style and tastes.

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