Sideline on Ralph Lauren suits: Doug Hayward is my tailor in London (although he is partially retired now, for reasons of health, the business and the style continue) and once I was in the back of the shop and there were all these little wee suits hanging up, in various stages of construction. "How sweet," I thought, "some chap is getting a collection of suits for his kid."
Not at all. "They're Ralph's," said Hayward. Ralph, it seems, is a very small man; Hayward is his tailor. Eventually I figured out the story. Hayward is a tailoring genius. Lauren is a marketing genius. He gets his suits from Hayward, works out how Hayward does it -- particularly with ultralight cloth; DH is the only man who can make a paperweight wool hang like a full-weight -- and turns out pretty good likenesses. "Don't you take a cut?" I asked; "Don't you charge a fee?"
"No," said Hayward. "Can't be bothered."
The same reason he turned down the James Bond contract. "Can't be bothered. They'd all want one free: crew, and everyone. B*gger that. Let Brioni do it."
What a man. What an artist. Shame he's winding down; but the legacy lives on.
Not at all. "They're Ralph's," said Hayward. Ralph, it seems, is a very small man; Hayward is his tailor. Eventually I figured out the story. Hayward is a tailoring genius. Lauren is a marketing genius. He gets his suits from Hayward, works out how Hayward does it -- particularly with ultralight cloth; DH is the only man who can make a paperweight wool hang like a full-weight -- and turns out pretty good likenesses. "Don't you take a cut?" I asked; "Don't you charge a fee?"
"No," said Hayward. "Can't be bothered."
The same reason he turned down the James Bond contract. "Can't be bothered. They'd all want one free: crew, and everyone. B*gger that. Let Brioni do it."
What a man. What an artist. Shame he's winding down; but the legacy lives on.