Back in the Eighties, suits were so wide that even the shoulder pads had shoulder pads. Suits back then were boxy, square, and designed to make you look like a quarterback, a bouncer or a tank. So it was very difficult to wear one unless you were also shaped like a quarterback, a bouncer or a tank. If, like me, you were tall and skinny, wearing an off-the-peg suit made you look as though someone had thrown a sheet over a beanpole. Or a javelin. Consequently, at the age of 24, I started having suits made for me. Not because of any great affectation, but simply because I didn’t want to walk around looking as though I was wearing a Halloween costume.
I started modestly, using a lovely old man in Harrow who used to make suits for teddy boys. Jack Geach was his name, and every suit he made was a fingertip drape with velvet lapels and matching cuffs. He ended up making me three: one in matt black, one in bright herringbone, and a gargantuan and garish scarlet one which I’m fairly sure could be seen from space.
