Bespoke Wrinkles

In my latest Steed 4x1DB sport coat, the breast pocket is not the standard English pocket, but an Italian "barchetta" style pocket.

Many sartorial enthusiasts know that barchetta pockets are curved. What is less understood is that the curve is not the only quality that differentiate these Italian creations from their Anglo counterparts. There are two other distinguishing features:

The welt is thicker--at least 1 1/8", compared to the standard 1" welt on English jackets.

The upper corner is blunted. The English pocket has sharp corners.

Capturing all three aspects is critical to re-creating the elegance of the barchetta look. It's exactly what I asked for, and Steed delivered.

In the annals of menswear, trouser pleats are a late invention. They only came to the fore when loose-fitting trousers became the fashion in the 1930′s. All that copious fabric has to go somewhere at the waist. Therefore, pleats were added.

Well-crafted trouser pleats impart a pleasant aesthetic effect quite accidental and unrelated to their original function: they happen to dramatically emphasize the creases. Whereas creases on flat-front slacks fade into the waistband, a correctly made pleat connects with the crease to form a strong, unbroken vertical line that extends from the waist all the way down to the shoe. This creates a visual illusion that blurs the boundary between your hips and your legs. As a result, your legs look longer, and you look taller.

And that’s good, because a short person like me needs every inch that I can get.

Of course, to maximize the virtues of pleats, good tailoring is a must, as is the right kind of styling. Traditional English forward pleats create a cleaner line than Italian reverse pleats. High trouser rise adds to the lengthening effect; low rise detracts from it. The trouser legs also need to be roomy enough, so that the crease isn’t stretched into oblivion at the thigh.

As a crowning touch, do away with the waistband. In the “continuous waistband” style, the pleats don’t stop until the trousers stop, further lengthening that coveted vertical line.

Last summer, I commissioned a navy chalk stripe suit from Augusto Caraceni of Milan. A year and three fittings later, I received the finished garment. Here are some thoughts about the suit and how it compares with my Steed DB suit.

The Silhouette

Left: Caraceni, Right: Steed

I didn’t give many instructions to Carlo and Max, intending my first commission to reflect the unadulterated Caraceni house style. Various online lore had made me expect Caraceni to be an Italian interpretation of the drape cut, of which Steed is a foremost proponent. But my suit turned out to have a very different silhouette compared to my Steed garments.

The chest fits quite closely, with little drape. The shoulders are about 1″ narrower than Steed’s, but they are strongly defined and thus give more presence than measurements would indicate. The generous lapels further reinforce the effect of those shoulders–1/4″ wider than Steed’s.

A. Caraceni double-breasted jackets are known for their ability to be buttoned either as a 6x2, or in the 6x1 configuration. My specimen is no exception.

The soft canvas and the presence of two anchor buttons instead of one, are what make this transformation possible. Steed’s construction is also quite soft and I’m sure that it would be trivial add this feature to a Steed DB suit.

Workmanship

A. Caraceni doesn’t put as much effort into pattern matching as one would expect. First, the good parts: patterns around the pockets match very well, and I appreciate the fact that the waist darts don’t make the lines disappear. 

However, the pipings on the besom pockets aren’t made of the same fabric as the suit, which avoids having to match patterns there. More importantly, the collar doesn’t match, either in the front or the back. 

This isn’t a departure from their usual practice. I raised the topic of pattern matching with Carlo and Max at the final fitting, and they insisted that doing it on the collar isn’t possible. Carlo allowed me to examine his own suit–indeed, the master cutter’s collar didn’t have matched patterns either.

Personally, I don’t really mind the pattern not matching at the gorge, but I do expect it to match at the scruff. This is a puzzling blindspot in their otherwise impressive workmanship.

And it is impressive. In fact, this is the finest-finished garment that I own. Caraceni took the time to blunt all the corners, including the collar, the hem, and the sleeve ends. The hand pick-stitching is expertly executed without being crassly abundant. The buttonholes are exquisitely made. Steed’s buttonholes are equally well done, though I find Caraceni’s teardrop-shaped rendering a bit more attractive.

The Caraceni lapel buttonhole. Not a Milanese buttonhole though. Parisian tailors named the “boutonnière milanaise” after the silk gimp made in the region, rather than the origin of the buttonhole itself.

The sleeves have four buttons, featuring three working buttonholes and one sham hole, as is typical in bespoke. Usually, the reason for the sham hole is to make it easier to lengthen the sleeve for a taller second-hand wearer–the tailor simply needs to rip it out and add a new working hole at the other end. I was bemused, therefore, to find that the sleeve has no reserve fabric at all; this is a sleeve that can’t be let out from the hem.

It’s the first time that I’ve seen a sleeve finished this way. It certainly makes for a very neat look for those who care to notice, at the expense of future alterations.

Comfort

I can say unequivocally that my Steed suits are more comfortable and offer a greater range of movement than my Caraceni. This can be attributed to the ease around the armholes that’s inherent to the drape cut, as well as Steed’s roomier sleevehead. Perhaps there is room for improvement in my pattern that could narrow the comfort gap; this is one of the matters I shall raise with Carlo and Max on a future visit.

Conclusion

All things considered, I love my new A. Caraceni suit. It’s very different from my Steed DB suit, but to my eyes they both look good in their own ways. I haven’t made up my mind as to which silhouette I prefer, though Steed has a fair lead in the comfort department.

The out-of-box fit is excellent, but as the first commission, it inevitably isn’t perfect. Particularly, the fit around the waist could be tidier. I’m sure that my concerns will be expertly addressed on my next visit to the A. Caraceni atelier in Milan.