Put This On

Understanding a Suit’s Silhouette

It’s common to hear people describe a suit’s silhouette in terms of its nationality. Suits are described as being American, British, or Continental. The first is either a sack or modified sack silhouette; the second said to be built up with military shoulders and have more waist suppression; and the third said to be a bit slimmer and feature “natural shoulders”. This is roughly correct, though it stays truer for some countries than others. Jesse, for example, did a wonderful job of describing the traditional American style of suits a few months ago. His description really works for America because of how large J Press looms in our sartorial history. For a country like Italy, however, it can be a bit more diverse. For example, a Neapolitan jacket can be very different from a Roman one, and some would say that Naples itself is also too heterogeneous to categorize. Thus, it can be useful to break down the silhouette of a suit into parts and not just think of them nationally. By doing so, you can better understand what you like or don’t like about a particular suit, and be better equipped to find one that best fits your personal sense of style.

At the most basic level, a suit’s silhouette can be said to be either structured or soft. A structured suit will be made with a stiffer canvas and have a more built up, padded shoulder. A softer silhouette will, naturally, be made with a softer canvas and have a thinner layer of padding. A related issue, though not exactly the same, is the shoulder’s expression. A shoulder can be roped, natural, or bald. The first will have a prominent ridge at the shoulder seam that runs along the crown of the sleeve. The second will have a very light ridge, but run flat. The third will have a knocked down shoulder seam and very low profile. Jeffery Diduch did a great job of explaining the differences between shoulder expressions here. The takeaway is that while some expressions may be associated with specific styles of construction - for example, the bald shoulder with a softly constructed, unpadded shoulder line - they don’t necessarily have to go together. They’re two separate elements that work in concert with each other to make up what we see as the shoulder, which in turn gives us the impression of a structured or soft silhouette.

The minimally padded, softer silhouette is more popular these days, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you should wear it. One of the important lessons taught by Alan Flusser is that we should dress to our body types, not what happens to be fashionable. A friend of mine in San Francisco, for example, has a very round upper chest, as well as round, sloping shoulders with prominent blades. In a soft Neapolitan jacket, he looks like an gorilla, but in something more structured and with a nipped waist, he looks athletic and handsome. As always, it’s best to try both of these styles on and be objective about how you look in each.

The other important aspect to a suit is how lean or full it is. In the most basic sense, this is about how close the suit sits to your body. Unfortunately, the trend of slimmer fitting clothes has led men to be single minded about this subject, but a better understanding is more nuanced. We can think of the suit in three parts - the chest, waist, and skirt (the skirt is simply the part of the jacket that hangs below the waist).

A lean chest will be shallow while a full chest will either be swelled or draped. A swelled chest will be fuller all around and look a bit more sculpted. A draped chest will have large, vertical folds of excess cloth that “drape” along the jacket’s edges, near the armholes. I made a post about drapes and swells at my other blog some time ago, and you can see illustrations of it there. The two often go together, but they don’t have to. You can have a swelled chest, for example, with no drape.

Similar to the chest, the waist can be nipped or left loose, and the skirt can hug the hips or be left a little full. These will create either a leaner or fuller silhouette, depending on how you combine these constructions.

The “lean and clean” look is what men’s fashion magazines have been pushing for years, and probably what has been most popular with men for decades. This silhouette will sit closer to the wearer’s body in all three sections. A fuller silhouette is less popular, but I think unjustly so. I don’t just mean the dartless American sack suits here, either. Anderson & Sheppard, for example, makes a fuller chest that gently billows out a bit. I find the effect more masculine, heroic, and elegant. I once read Michael Alden compare someone’s “lean and clean” suit to an overly skinny runway model that needed more “meat on her bones.” Setting aside my slight uncomfortableness with talking about people in this way, his description spoke well to how I feel about these kinds of silhouettes in general. Of course, this is all a matter of personal taste and style, but I find fuller suits to have more depth and elegance, and be infinitely more interesting. Not that everyone should share my taste, of course, but I do think that most men should consider fuller suits more.

Moving on to the last dimension, a suit’s silhouette can either be elongating or widening. There are many aspects to this. An elongating suit will have a lower buttoning point. This will draw longer vertical lines along the suit’s lapel, which in turn will make the wearer look a bit taller. It may also have a higher gorge. A suit’s “gorge” is often conflated with the lapel’s notch, but it’s actually the seam that connects the jacket’s collar to the lapel. More or less the same, but still slightly different. Italians tend to make suits with a higher gorge than their British counterparts, and Neapolitan and Sicilian tailors make them higher still.

A widening silhouette will have wider lapels and perhaps extended shoulders. In today’s single-mindedness about suits, this may sound unappealing, but it’s worth reminding that many Neapolitan suits, which so many people are in love with nowadays, often have widening silhouettes.

In the end, all of these aspects can be combined in a number of ways to create an overall silhouette. One of the most elegantly dressed men I’ve ever met wore a softly constructed suit with a bald shoulder. His jacket had a fuller chest, nipped waist, and tight skirt. His trousers had a slightly higher rise and the legs were fuller than what more “fashionable” men wear today. They were still slim and flattering, however, and they created a nice line going from his jacket to his shoes. What he wore matched not only his body type, but also his personality and character. As a man, he was every bit as elegant as his clothes, and what he wore expressed him as a full human being, not as a clotheshorse.

As you look at pictures of well-dressed men, try dissecting each of these parts. You’ll develope a more refined understanding of suits and become more sensitive to how they can make an impression. Perhaps most importantly, you’ll be better equipped to purchase suits according to your body type and sense of style. Maybe you like lean, structured suits, or maybe you don’t, but you won’t know until you understand how to look for them.

Pictures taken from The Armoury, Permanent Style, The Sartorialist, Mister Crew, Rubinacci Club, and a few others I’ve unfortunately forgotten. This article also owes a lot to Michael Anton’s original article on the same subject at the London Lounge, so many thanks to him for that.

David Saxby & Old Hat

On my recent trip to the UK, I had the good fortune to spend a couple of days in London, and I decided to head out to what I’d heard was the best vintage store in town: Old Hat. It’s on the Fulham High Street, which is about a half-hour train ride from the center of town, but it certainly delivers on its promise.

It’s actually more of a complex than a shop, with three storefronts - men’s vintage, women’s vintage and a made-to-measure gallery. Old Hat is a classic vintage shop, with racks and racks of dusty tailored clothing, ranging from the perfectly good (ready-to-wear Daks) to the fantastic (Savile Row bespoke). The lower level looks like the basement where your elementary school held gym class when it was raining, with pipes running here and there and halogen torchieres providing the light. My kind of place, in other words.

It’s the kind of spot where there are piles of trousers for day formal on top of the counter, and fifteen or twenty feet of rack space dedicated to evening wear. The staff is lovely and pleasant, and while I went home empty-handed, it was a blast to visit the store.

Even more of a blast was connecting with the owner of the place, David Saxby. Saxby was behind at the counter at the made-to-measure shop that bears his name. It’s filled to the brim with classic country clothes in bulletproof tweeds. There are stacks of sock garters and piles of driving caps on every surface. Saxby himself is a charming and fascinating host.

He told me he got into vintage clothes after a stint as a camera dealer (before that, he’d been a professional photographer). When he wanted more country clothes than he could buy second-hand, he started contracting with English manufacturers to make them for his customers. One by one, the manufacturers shut their doors, until David found himself buying the plant and hiring the staff of the last. Now, his factory, an hour or so outside London, makes the kind of rare breed clothes you really can’t find anywhere else, short of bespoke.

When I was there, David was wearing a preposterously loud country ensemble, and he looked spectacular. His manner matched his look - sharp, funny and very slightly outrageous. We discussed suit silhouettes (he only makes one and three-button coats), Fred Astaire (he says if Fred Astaire wore a butonniere with a pocket square, then it’s right, because Fred Astaire is Fred Astaire), the best American factory-made suits (that’s Oxxford, if you’re keeping track) and more. I’d meant to get back on the train and hit another shop before heading back to my wife and baby, but between the conversation and digging in Old Hat, I ended up in Fulham for two hours.

If you’re in London, or making a trip, be sure to stop by and say “hi.” You’ll enjoy the experience.

My good friend Mr. John Hodgman is a writer, famous minor television personality, and deranged millionaire. His new book, THAT IS ALL, is the third and final in his trilogy of All World Knowledge. It features extensive instructions on living as a deranged millionaire, including a handy guide to dress. We’ve reprinted the instructions here, with Mr. Hodgman’s permission. Please note that if you don’t buy his book, which hits bookshelves November 1st, you’ll never amount to anything.

HOW TO DRESS LIKE A MILLION DERANGED DOLLARS,

OR “THE BEST COSTUME FOR THE DAY”

You can learn a lot about a DERANGED MILLIONAIRE by looking at his/her wardrobe for a long, long time. It’s OK to stare at them this way. They will not notice you, because YOU DO NOT EXIST TO THEM.

Everyone has his or her own style, of course, but I think you’ll find that the DERANGED MILLIONAIRE’s clothing is never too showy. Flaunting wealth, either by your choice of clothing or with a golden wealth flaunter, is considered poor form, for it makes you look anxious.

What is important is that you never look as though you have dressed specifically for a particular occasion, but rather for yourself. Your wardrobe may be dressy or casual,as long as you are dressed in a tuxedo, an authentic Civil War uniform, or whatever makes YOU comfortable. Remember, when YOU are at ease, OTHERS WILL NOT BE.

So here are some suggested outfits for various occasions; in time, you will be able to develop your own sense of which disarming eccentricities look best on you….

FOR THE OFFICE

For gentlemen, a single-breasted suit in a conservative color and a solid tie or club tie. If you must wear shoes, wear two-toed ninja shoes.

For ladies, a tasteful brown turtle-neck Sun pants with pantyhose pulled over them, and then a short skirt made of a bath towel.

FOR “CASUAL FRIDAY”

For gentlemen, try a three-piece denim suit and velvet slippers with little crowns on them.

For ladies, same as above [FOR THE OFFICE], but turn the skirt into a cape.

FOR A SUMMER GARDEN PARTY

For gentlemen, seersucker shorts, a plaid blazer, and a beekeeper’s hat.

For ladies, a kicky summer dress made out of Marimekko sheets, worn over a swimsuit made of pantyhose.

FOR A RED-CARPET GALA

For gentlemen, a peak-lapel tuxedo, a simple white shirt (no “wing” collar), a black bow tie, and a black panther on a rope.

For ladies, an evening gown hastily assembled from the red carpet itself.

FOR DINNER ON THE EAST COAST

Gentlemen should wear a coat and tie.

Ladies should wear an evening gown or dark-colored cocktail dress.*

(* These can be assembled from pantyhose and handkerchiefs as needed.)

FOR DINNER ON THE WEST COAST

Gentlemen should wear nothing but a silken robe and tube socks. If the invitation is for “formalwear,” gentlemen should add an Ed Hardy t-shirt.

Ladies should be nude.

FOR ATTENDING THE TED CONFERENCE

Gentlemen should wear Patrick McGoohan’s white piped blazer from the television program The Prisoner plus khakis and a cravat.

Ladies should dress like Leo McKern.

FOR A MONOCLE PARTY

Gentlemen SHOULD NOT wear monocles.* THAT’S JUST WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO DO.

Ladies may wear opera glasses strapped to their heads with Velcro.

(*However, double monocles - or bimonocles - are acceptable.)

Men’s Clothes: How to Store Them

Men often email me to ask how to store their clothes, so I thought I’d offer a few simple best practices for most of the clothes in your closet. If you’re looking for information on seasonal clothing storage - like putting away winter coats in summer, read the great article Derek wrote a few months ago.

Remember that animal fibers (especially wool) can attract moths. Wherever you store your clothes should have some ventilation and be dry. Keep your wool clothing clean (moths like moisture and especially food stains). Some strong smells, like cedar, will discourage moths from setting up shop, though only mothballs will kill them.

Shoes: With shoe trees, preferably wooden. “Lasted” trees (trees in the exact form of the shoe) are best, but not necessary. Try buying trees for about $12 at your local Nordstrom Rack, or keep an eye out for pairs for about $3 at your local thrift stores. Shoe bags (usually made of cotton flannel) recommended when traveling, or for shoes that are likely to get dusty, like velvet slippers.

Socks & Underwear: In a drawer. Cedar smells nice. I actually store mine in an old aluminum cooler that has a few lavender sachets in it.

Shirts: Folded or hung from a hanger. Button the collar to maintain its shape and another button further down the shirt front to keep them from flapping around. A slimline hanger is fine for shirts, but don’t use wire. You’re not an animal.

T-Shirts & Polo Shirts: The thin cotton of polos can stretch if hung. Fold and stack them.

Suits & Sportcoats: Suits and sportcoats should be hung. At the least you should hang them from a hanger with some shape (a traditional suit hanger which bends forward slightly, rather than the straight plastic five-for-three-dollars hangers from the dime store). It’s even better to hang them from hangers with some width in the shoulder. You want something that supports the full shoulder pad, shaped not unlike your own shoulder. This keeps the shoulder of the coat from deforming. Wood is more attractive, but plastic will also work fine here (and is lighter weight). These usually only come with very high-end suits, but they can be purchased new, and most of mine came from estate sales. Decent suit hangers were apparently much more common thirty or forty years ago.

Trousers: I like felted clamp hangers, clamped onto the hem of the trousers, if you have the room. This helps wrinkles fall out. Hanging them on traditional trouser bars is perfectly fine, though. Look for bars with felt (best) or rubber (OK) coverings to prevent slippage.

Casual Pants: I fold my pants which don’t take a crease - blue jeans and chinos, primarily. Some denim enthusiasts hang their jeans from a hook rather than fold them to protect their wear patterns, but that’s further than I’m willing to go.

Belts: Rolled or hung from their buckles.

Ties: Rolled or hung, untied. If you’re lucky enough to have a fancy closet, you may have shallow drawers with dividers appropriate for rolled ties. If so: God bless. I’ve hung my ties for many, many years and they’ve suffered no apparent ill effects. Mine hang from a rack that was once designed to be used with clips to hang baseball caps. It’s a series of horizontal bars. You could get the same effect with a freezer rack hung on a wall. There are also plenty of tie hangers in the shape of coat hangers.

Handkerchiefs & Pocket Squares: These can be hung from clips on a rotating rack if you’re really fancy, but I just fold mine. A cedar box is nice, but you can also use clear plastic shoe boxes so you can easily spot your favorite.

Sweaters & Knits: Never, ever hang sweaters on coat hangers. Fold them. Hanging them will mess them up, especially over time (but even in a few hours for heavier pieces). Even if you think of that cardigan as “coat-like,” it should still be folded, not hung.

Hats: Hook ‘em! Or put them in hat boxes. And remember they can be a moth target, too.

Sweatpants: I recommend storing these in the garage, in a box marked “Salvation Army.”

Scrimp, Save, and Shop Slowly

In the past week, I’ve been reading The Craftsman by Richard Sennett, a wonderful book that Bruce Boyer recommended to me some time ago. In one chapter, Sennett talks about various epochs when the volume of material goods available to Westerners expanded dramatically.

In the Renaissance, trade with non-Europeans swelled the number of goods at people’s disposal. Netherlands, Britain, and France had an unprecedented demand for new possessions (and subsequently the furniture that was needed to display those possessions). As material abundance seeped downward, it extended to ordinary matters such as people having more than a single pair of shoes to wear and different clothes for different seasons. Victorian England was similarly prosperous. Here, the advancement of industrialization made it possible for the British to enjoy more clothes, domestic utensils, and books.

In each of these periods, Europeans felt both wonder and anxiety for their new material abundance. People worried about how to use goods well, what abundance might be for, and how not to be spoiled by possessions. Human virtues such as restraint and simplicity came to the fore, and some wondered whether the sheer quantity of objects around them would dull their senses.

One can see a reflection of these periods in our current state. Despite all of the economic problems we may have, most Westerners (and many in the East) still live in a consumer paradise. However, I think we’ve struggled to properly manage the issues that have come out of that. Take, for example, clothing, which has largely become an industry of “fast fashion.” Clothing is made cheaper and cheaper, and new items are introduced not just on a seasonal basis, but also multiple times throughout a season.

The production of cheap clothing has led us to devalue clothes, both in what we’re willing to pay and how we treat them. The mere availability of $15 button-up shirts makes people cringe at the idea of a $75 shirt, even if it’s made from better materials and done with better stitching. Give someone a closet full of $15 shirts, and they’ll have no incentive to really learn how to take care of what they own.

The availability of cheap clothing has also made voracious appetites possible. People these days are constantly buying new clothes, and this introduces a level of waste that’s only dreamed of in scarcity societies. Even cheap, poorly made garments - which are only meant to last two or three years - are thrown out long before the end of their practical life. 

One explanation is that people these days are more aroused by anticipation than actual operation. Getting the latest thing is more important than making good use of what you have, and being so easily able to consume new and cheap things makes this quest an endless activity. Consequently, people have much more than they need, but nothing that they truly satisfies them. This triggers a vicious feedback loop - because they’re not satisfied, they go out and buy more and more, but since they consume so much, their limited budget forces them to only buy other unsatisfying things.

It also sets an utterly bizarre modern mindframe. In what other era have people thought they need to fill every “gap” in their closet? “I have wool trousers in glen plaid, solids, window panes, and houndstooth, all in navy, brown, and grey, but none in olive, so I have to fill that gap.”  Granted, I write about things such as “Five Casual Trousers for Fall,” but this doesn’t mean you have to get every one. I’m giving you options, not a shopping list.

In previous epochs when Westerners enjoyed such material abundance, they reflected back on what it meant for society and themselves as individuals. We’ve done the same; there’s all sorts of neo-Ruskinian attitudes these days. Everyone is talking about craftsmanship and returning to a more “humanist” view of production.

The fundamental problem, though, is still present: we expect to accumulate an unreasonable amount of clothes, and we want to do it within a year, if not a season. People are constantly hunting for “deals” at “fast fashion” stores such as Zara, buying things without any real long-term impression of what they need, and spending whatever is within their immediate disposable income. That kind of practice will lead to an enormous wardrobe, but of things they’ll never quite like, so they’ll never really wear.

It would be better, I think, to have a more controlled appetite. Make a prioritized list of the staples you need, and don’t get side tracked into impulse buys. Then, find out how to really discern quality in clothing, and buy what is truly, truly worthwhile. Instead of owning a hundred mediocre ties, thinking that they were a “bargain,” buy ten quality ones in your most basic designs. Instead of having twenty mediocre shoes, buy three excellent pairs, and use the time that you would otherwise spend on shopping to take care of what you have. Put in shoe trees, apply leather conditioner, and take the time to buff and polish. 

Of course, if you have the means to accumulate nothing but the best, then more power to you. If you’re of limited means, however, you would do better by really taking the time to understand how to discern quality and prioritize that over price. If you can’t afford it today, then scrimp and save for a while until you can. If you take a long view - that you will need five to seven years to accumulate a decent wardrobe - and don’t expect to need fifty trousers in every single pattern and color, this is quite achievable. That is, after all, how most people built wardrobes in the past.

(pictured above: installation art by Christian Boltanski)

Q and Answer: What Makes a Quality Men’s Hat?

Ian writes: Your posts have repeatedly stressed the importance of quality hats, and explained that it’s very hard to find any newly made hats that aren’t prohibitively expensive that are of the necessary quality. What, other than the price, separates a $500+ hat from Optimo from, say, something in Goorin’s ~$120 American Made line?

That’s a great question, Ian. There are different kinds of hats, so I’ll address each type separately.

Flat caps and other wool and cotton caps are a lot like other types of apparel. You’ll find that finer makers use higher-quality materials and construction techniques. I have a couple of Borsalino flat caps that are about fifteen years old. They’ve got silk satin liners and beautiful tweed outers. There’s a difference in quality between them and what I might buy at Macy’s. Still, the spread on price is probably much larger than on quality in this area. If you can find good hats of this type made of quality materials for a lesser price, go for it. Watch out for the polyester that dominates the lower end of the market, though.

With Panama and other straw hats, it’s the weave that makes the difference. Quality Pananamas are flexible, not stiff, and they’re made of soft, fine fibers. There are advantages to a less dense weave - it will wear cooler - but the mark of quality is weave density. A denser, finer weave is more labor-intensive to produce, and thus more expensive to buy. What you’ll find, though, is that it gives the hat a more finished appearance, and much more life. There are still makers who make high-quality Panamas, but they’re tough to find. Optimo, who you mentioned, are one.

As with Panamas, there’s a huge range in quality with fur felt hats. Lower-quality hats, like the ones you asked about, are made with wool felt. Better hats are often made with coney or rabbit fur felt. The best are made with beaver felt. Of course, the beaver-trapping industry isn’t what it once was, so it can be tough to find beaver hats these days outside of specialty custom makers (like Optimo).

A high-quality felt hat has a dense finish. This is a result of the felting process - the fur is crushed and shrunk repeatedly as it is transformed from fur to felt. It can be a variety of different weights, but it will always be strong and resilient. Note that I wrote resilient, and not hard - like good wool, one of the defining characteristics of a good felt hat is that it retains its shape when distorted. It will have a strong shape, but it will not be stiff.

The reality is that as the hat industry has shrunk over the past fifty years, the quality of hats has plummeted. It’s easy to see when you handle a model that’s been made continuously since the heyday of hats, like the Stetson Open Road, which was LBJ’s signature western hat. The example from the 1950s or before and the current model are the same shape, but the quality is like night and day. The current model is stiff, rough and lifeless. When you have a feeling for this difference, you can spot the crap on sight, and you’ll know the Dad Who Thinks He Looks Like Indiana Jones Hats from the Good Stuff.

There are custom makers, who source high-quality beaver from European plants and still make hats as good as the mass-market hats of the 50s and before. There are also a few boutique operations like Optimo (or the English Lock & Company) who maintain the same high standards. The sad fact, though, is that if you walk into a hat store in the United States, even a specialty hat store, you’re likely to find a bunch of junk. Even storied brands like Borsalino sell C+ hats at extraordinary prices.

The best way to experience the difference is to feel it for yourself. If you’re lucky enough to live in Chicago or London, you can just head into Optimo or Lock. If you’re not, first head to your local hat store and feel a hundred-dollar Stetson. Then head to a good vintage store and feel a 1940s Dobbs or Cavanaugh. You’ll understand the difference quickly.

Luckily, there’s a good solution. There are still plenty of hats in the world from the golden age of hats, but there are now many less hat wearers. That means that you can find the good stuff - like top of the line Borsalinos, Dunlaps, Dobbs and Stetsons - for as little as $50, and rarely more than $200.

A Visit to Don Ville

Plenty of readers probably remember our friend Raul Ojeda from our episode about shoes. When we shot the piece, Raul was manager of Willie’s Shoe Service in Hollywood, having accepted the mantel from Willie, who decided to spend his 90s mostly in his native Puebla, in Southern Mexico.

We didn’t tell all of Raul’s story in the video. He fell in love with shoes as a young man, and got into the shoe-shine business out of school. He built up his shine stand into a chain of shine stands which serviced, among other clients, the LAPD, but he wanted to go further. He heard about Willie, the only custom shoe maker in LA, and started showing up at his door, asking to apprentice. Willie had turned down innumerable apprentices in the past, but Raul’s sincerity (and that fact that both had roots in Puebla) convinced him. Willie, by then in his late 80s, wasn’t able to do the quality of work that he wanted to do, and the shop had become mostly a repair and alteration outlet.

Raul worked double time - at the shine stand during the day, and with Willie, nights and weekends - for years. Willie would show Raul a techique, Raul would practice, they’d head off to lunch, they’d come back. Meanwhile, Raul was researching the world of bespoke shoes online - learning about the techniques used by the finest European makers.

Raul’s goal was to open a store that didn’t just make custom shoes, but made real bespoke shoes, that could compete with the fine European makers, but made in Los Angeles for a price that was dramatically less than the firms who cater to people so rich they don’t even look at the numbers on the list.

A few months ago, Raul was offered a spot in a prime block on La Brea in Los Angeles, and he went for it. Believe it or not, Julie Newmar (best known as Catwoman) is his landlord. Within six weeks, he had opened Don Ville, named after his mentor Willie. In front, a showroom and salon. In back, an atelier where the shoes are made by Raul and his small staff. There, he’s making everything from the most conservative black cap-toes to custom metallic-leather spectators.

Raul and I had become pals through the shooting, and he offered me a trade: if I wrote copy for his website (the copy’s not up yet, btw), he’d make me a pair of shoes. English is his second language, after all, and I certainly don’t know how to make shoes for myself. We had complimentary skills.

You can guess what I said to that.

So with some folks from GQ tagging along, I headed over to Don Ville for my first fitting.

Raul and I talked about what kind of shoe I wanted. I’ve been looking for a great black shoe for serious occasions - performances, weddings, business conferences. I decided on an austerity brogue. It’s an unusual style that I find elegant and distinctive, but also sober enough for Serious Stuff. Imagine a wingtip, then remove all of the broguing and edging and other superfluous decoration - that’s an austerity brogue.

Raul started by showing me some lasts. He’ll actually be making a last to the shape of my foot, but he wanted a sense of what shape I wanted the shoe to be. He went back to the workshop and grabbed some scrap leather, and pulled it over his example lasts to give me an idea of what the shoes’ shape would look like when made up. After considering some chisel-toed and pointier shapes, I chose a sleek round-toe model, in the interest of conservatism.

Then Raul set me up to be measured. He first had me stand on an art pad, and traced carefully the shape of my foot. Then he started taking key measurements - the height of my heel, the circumference of my ankle, that sort of thing.

I shared with him some pictures of austerity brogues I like, and he said he’d get to work on some sketches of his own in the style. (Because Don Ville has just opened, Raul is still building up their selection of standard designs.) After a few minutes more chatting with Raul and his staff, we were ready to go.

I’ll return in a couple of weeks to try on a dummy shoe, made of scrap leather on my new last, so we can adjust before the real deal is manufactured. I saw a couple examples - they look like real shoes, frankly. I’ll be send home with one, and instructed to wear it around the house to get a good sense of how it fits. Raul’s even threatening that he’ll make me the guinea pig for a new idea he’s working on, a “glass slipper” - a dummy shoe made of transparent vinyl so he can quite literally see the fit before the “real” shoe is made. Then a few weeks after that, I’ll have my shoes.

Raul’s running a pretty remarkable operation at Don Ville. I’m pretty sure it’s the only storefront dedicated to custom shoes here in the US, and certainly the only one that also makes everything on-premises. Prices are about half of what you’d pay for a traveling European maker - from $750 or so for ready-to-wear to about $2000 for bespoke (including the cost of making a custom last and design). They’re even making some gorgeous women’s shoes, both ready-to-wear and custom.

I left the shop inspired by the possibilities, and by Raul’s passion for footwear. I may not be ready for Raul’s patinated bronze oxfords, but he’s really offering something special. Whether or not you’re thinking about buying custom shoes, the shop’s worth a visit - say hi to Raul for me.

Don Ville Shoes

113 N. La Brea, Los Angeles

323-932-9874

All photos courtesy of Gordon de los Santos