Monday, October 29, 2007

How Far Will you go for the Perfect Fit?

Among the insistently peddled fake Rolexes and foot massages on the streets of Kowloon, Hong Kong, I was surprised to notice the great number of Chinese tailors standing on the sidewalk, offering “cheap suit” to anyone who looks like they wear one.
They mean cheap as in inexpensive, unaware that the meaning could get lost in translation and wouldn’t do justice to the great skillfulness of Hong Kong’s tailors.

The city is renowned for its quality tailoring, a legacy of a century of British influence over the Chinese island. Consumers can get some outstanding values, especially considering the close proximity of the factories of many of the most renowned wool-makers, whose fabrics are increasingly being produced in China, whether or not some of them will admit it.

Hong Kong tailors are so popular that some of them go on tour to the U.S. several times a year, visiting new and returning clients who want to have their measurements taken and order new custom-made suits and shirts.

“We have some clients from Meryl Lynch” says Gary Zee, who works at the custom suit shop Mode Elegante at the Peninsula hotel in Hong Kong. Although Zee visits his clients in several cities in the country, “They don’t get the Hong Kong price,” he says. “To you I give the Hong Kong price.”

The local price can range anywhere from $300 to $500 for the back-in-style three piece suit, and $20 to $80 for a custom shirt. The U.S. price typically is about 10 to 20 percent higher.

As I begin to ask about fabrics and styles, Zee notes that many people pay from between $1,000 and $5,000 for a brand name suit like Brioni, which he claims will never look as good as a custom-made garment. This means that for some, a trip to Hong Kong to order a couple of custom suits may end up costing less than buying them off the rack at home.

The wool selection is enormous; assistants at the shop kept pulling more samples until the more expensive brand names like Loro Piana began to show up. I inquired about the difference between Loro Piana and the regular fabric I had been examining; Zee’s practiced response suggested I wasn’t the first to ask.
“This one is a Toyota. The Toyota you can take anywhere, but the Loro Piana is BMW,” he declared.
I liked the metaphor, so I borrowed it and asked “OK, so is there a Ferrari?”
His co-workers turned to watch as he brought out the Ferrari: Vitale Barberis Canonico, an Italian manufacturer of wool so fine it can push up the price of what is supposed to be a cheap three-piece suit up to $1,200. The difference is very clear while touching the fabric, although the appearance is almost the same.

The purchase of a suit, from the moment you walk in to the store to when it is delivered to your hotel room, takes about three days.
After you select the fabric, the tailor takes your measurements and shouts them in Chinese to an assistant. A big book full of examples of suits helps with the decision of style and details. The first fitting is done on the following day, and a final one on the third day. A fourth day can be useful to make some extra adjustments to the finished product. Once the fit is perfect, the tailor records the final measurements in case you want to make additional suits in the future, so long as you maintain more or less the same weight.

After ordering your first suit, placing another order for a suit or a shirt is just a matter of choosing a fabric and paying with a credit card. No need to fly again to Hong Kong. I ask Zee if, now that I am a customer, he can give me the Hong Kong price when I order a suit from the U.S.
He shakes his head. “Only in Hong Kong."

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