Visiting Henry Poole, Savile Row

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London beckoned and I took the opportunity of paying a visit to Henry Poole. In a trade where reputation is worth its weight in gold, Henry Poole may be the best off player you are likely to meet.

The atelier was founded in 1806 and is considered the oldest tailoring business on Savile Row. The count of ‘By Royal Appointment’s have passed the 50 mark. The list of famous (and infamous!) clients numbers amongst others Napoleon III, Winston Churchill and King Christian IX, or as Henry Poole himself wrote it: HRH The King of Denmark, 1893.

This daunting heritage does not burden Simon Cundey who is in charge on a day-to-day basis and third generation in the company. At least not during our meeting. He receives me, exuding a relaxed and smiling demeanour, asking me to take a seat in an old leather chair. Silence rules for a few minutes. Only the tick-tock of an old clock can be heard. Then Simon Cundey returns.

“We regard everything as a balance. Balance is key,” he quickly initiates.

“For instance, we’ll cut the jacket a little longer or shorter according to the correlation between the client’s torso and length of legs and we always include extra material in the seams so that we can recreate the balance if the client changes shape,” Simon Cundey continues, indicating with a smile the outline of a big tummy and pushing his hips forwards to illustrate the typical change of shape that they have to deal with.

He seizes a pattern with a blue outline by the shoulder seam. The cutter has made the blue line so that he knows that one of the client’s shoulders has to be cut differently from the others. Simon Cundey makes it clear that it is small details such as these that are the order of the day at Henry Poole and a part of the fine art of balance.

We discuss cloth at length. They are a lot lighter now. The introduction of air condition and central heating has changed the requirements. Simon Cundey draws my attention to a grey chalk stripe flannel jacket, which is draped over a dummy.

“That is a remake of the jacket Churchill is wearing in the famous photo where he is posing with a machine gun. Cloth in those days had a weight of 18 ounces per yard. This one weighs in at 10 to 11 ounces,” Simon Cundey tells me.

We descend into the basement via a small staircase and enter the sacred studios where the suits are made. With a staff of 40 tailors, amongst those 4 head cutters, Henry Poole is the largest on Savile Row. All of the tailors work on-site; Henry Poole does not outsource any of the work anywhere else to be finished off.

Unlike most of the other ateliers on Savile Row Henry Poole has resisted the temptation to use his high standing to sell Ready To Wear. At least on Savile Row. However, Henry Poole does have 3 shops in Japan and China, where they peddle Ready To Wear and accessories with a modified Henry Poole label, one where the ‘By Royal Appointment’ is absent.

But no Ready To Wear suits on Savile Row. They are strictly Old School here, or as Simon Cundey himself put it while reclining in the leather chairs upstairs:

“Pure bespoke is what we specialise in here.”

Simon Cundey follows me around the atelier and talks me through what is going on at each table. It is almost dizzying to follow the paths of the many busy hands, in many cases based on years of expertise.

In reality it is merely the long seams that is dealt with by machine, Simon Cundey said. The rest is executed in needle and thread by hand and in places by a heavy steam press. From the lining of the trousers to the seams of the jacket, most of the square centimetres are shaped by hand one way or another.

One of Henry Poole’s more senior tailors shows me just how he shapes the shoulders, which he amongst other things sews with a round seam to get them in the shape of the owner’s exact specifications for the set of his shoulders. Again one of those details that separates the very best atelier from the next best and obviously from the Ready To Wear.

Back in the room upstairs I examine the “By Royal Appointment’ certificates, yellowing and framed on the wall. Of course you can’t live off past merits. It is your current abilities that count. But these many frames speak loudly in their own overpowering way that Henry Poole has a particular prerequisite in executing eminent tailoring.

I also leaf through a pamphlet Henry Poole has made. Here, I am reminded that Henry Poole also can claim the soubriquet Father of the Smoking Jacket. Quite simply, they had an order before anyone else in 1860, detailing the requirements for a “black Smoking Jacket in velvet” for the then English Crown Prince.

Yes, even ateliers can be born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Such good luck can you squander or turn into an obligation. My observation is that Simon Cundey has chosen to lead Henry Poole down the latter path.

The cost of all this? Starting at close to £2,900 for a two-piece suit.

Photo: The Journal of Style

Webshop: French Handkerchiefs

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Handkerchiefs are meant to be refined.  It’s part of their nature (if they have such a thing). No one masters the art of making handkerchiefs better than Simonnot-Godard. They have been around since The French Revolution. From weaving the fabric to finishing the handkerchiefs by hand, they do everything themselves. True French style …

The architects’ studio

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The charm of naivety is definitely what meets you when you step inside Saddler Dahlman’s. Time doesn’t so much stand still rather it follows its own off-beat and seductive path with tools, imagery and shapes that in many cases are well over a hundred years old.

And then there’s the hand-made that calls out to the inner romantic. Dahlman has for two hundred years produced and repaired halters, saddles and other equestrian equipment. Besides that the company has since the 1940’s fashioned leather accessories for menswear, designed in collaboration with some of the renowned architects of the past.

It hardly surprises that it is the latter endeavour that made The Journal of Style knock on the door, right there at number 5, Fortunsstræde in the centre of Copenhagen, where Dahlman has been based since 1930. The world of equestrianism is not The Journal of Style’s strong point.

Erik Hendriksen received me. He runs Dahlman’s in conjunction with his brother, Frank Hendriksen. They are third generation in the company. Their father, Willy Hendriksen, took over Dahlman’s back in 1959 after having worked for the company for close to 30 years. He achieved all in all 76 years at the company without a single day off sick before he retired at the age of 90. Willy Hendriksen’s father, Henry Hendriksen, arrived at Dahlman’s in 1897.

At Stiljournalen’s request Erik Hendriksen retrieved a beautifully natural colour leather briefcase from a display case. He revealed that the design came to fruition in 1942 when the architect Erik Herløw approached them with the design for a fresh take on the briefcase. Together Erik Herløw and Dahlman’s created a very simple design of vegetable tanned core leather with a unique brass closure, one where you kind of push a leather flange through a small clasp. Then the briefcase was DKR 300. Today it’s priced at close to DKR 20,000, approx. 4.000 USD.

I also studied the Saumur metal hook belt, another classic from the Dahlman studio. Just like the briefcase, an architect, or rather two of them, conceived the design for the belt. According to Erik Hendriksen it was never quite resolved who can take the credit for the belt design, but both Erik Herløw and Poul Kühl were involved.

The belt has the same distinct mix of simplicity and functional innovation about it that also originates from Dahlman’s architect’s briefcase. The original version is of natural hue, 27 mm wide and closed with a Saumur style hook, just like the one that is used for traditional equestrian reins.

The closing of the belt may be simple but you do have to practise how to do it so you don’t break the leather as you close it, Erik Hendriksen remarked. He then proceeded to show Stiljournalen using a couple of practised fingers how one ought to open and close the Saumur metal hook belt.

Initially they only produced brown versions of the Saumur hook belt, Erik Hendriksen continued, but during the 1950’s they started making it in black as well. Again, it was an architect, Arne Jacobsen, who made the manufacture happen. He really wanted the Saumur hook belt in black. At that point Dahlman couldn’t source the correct leather from the tannery, so they dyed some of their brown leather with grain blackener and produced the belt Arne Jacobsen had requested.

The Journal of Style also enquired about the natural colour sandals which Dahlman’s had displayed on a shelf. They looked very inviting although a tad bohemian and yet again Erik Hendriksen could relay that it was Erik Herløw and Poul Kühl that came up with the idea for them. Erik Hendriksen told me that they custom-make the sandals so that all those of us with wide or narrow feet or a high or low instep can get a pair that fit perfectly. I don’t recall the exact price, but just like the Saumur hook belt, it is roughly DKR 1,000, or approx. 200 USD, and a bit more if the sandals have to be custom-made.

Erik Hendriksen showed me a bunch of silver plated buckles of which some were more than a hundred years old. Originally made for upmarket bridles but now have a second life as exquisite belt buckles.

Along one wall the hides were stacked in rolls. By now I’ve seen my fair share of shoe leather and could thus conclude we were in an altogether more rustic genre. Everything was thick and vegetable tanned in the old fashioned style and you could grab hold of a juicy chubby pull-up when you folded it.

Yes, it was an encouraging visit that Stiljournalen paid to Dahlman’s Saddlers. Lovely to experience that a company that reveres the artisan still exists in the heart of the capital.

You can explore more on Dahlman’s homepage (in Danish).

Photo: The Journal of Style

Stylish farmer

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As a lad I lugged bales of straw, fed horses and mucked out cows. I don’t know if that explains my fondness for tweed. It is the cloth of choice for the farmer inasmuch that most of today’s farmers will chuck on Kansas work wear if they are dressing up and t-shirt, jeans and clogs if they follow the crowd.

Anyway, enough of the psychological musings. I am fond of tweed (jackets) and have over the years mulled over how to combine the use of it with other garments.

Once again I can reveal that to my mind the well-executed use of contrast and a consistent whole is the key to a an eminent result if we just keep the fit etc out of the picture for a moment.

This chap here points the way. He mixes the brown jacket with brown trousers (harmony) but notice the two very different hues (contrast). All too often you see men in a tweed ensemble or other dress wear with a separate jacket, where the colours of the trousers and the jacket are too closely matched.

Furthermore: both cloths, whether jacket or trousers, are heavyweight (harmony). The tweed jacket is tweed and the trousers a robust cavalry twill. It is seldom successful if you do not match the jacket with trousers made from cloth of similar weight.

Meanwhile the wool, threads and weave are different (contrast). The tweed jacket has a rough surface and the trousers are comparatively smooth and resemble the cavalry twill’s distinctive large diagonal pattern.

Then we have the yellow waistcoat. It is a contrast and yet it isn’t a complete anomaly to the brown hue. The same goes for the red silk kerchief. It sets itself apart, yet respects the company it’s keeping. The handkerchief is behaving in a similar vein, singing from its own hymn sheet, yet in tune with the other items of clothing.

A stylish farmer.

Photo: The Journal of Style

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