Monday 18 March 2013

A Tailor's Tale.


When my late father worked in The City, he took a couple of rooms in Milk Street; just off Cheapside, up towards St Pauls Cathedral. Milk Street led into the tiny Russia Row, where he discovered a wonderful tailor; Sol Hyams.

Hyams was one of those real old fashioned Jewish tailor shops. A complete jumble to the untrained eye, they'd have you measured and suited in a matter of days. Day one measurements, day two fitting, day three you paid your bill and took away your suit. It was a no-nonsense business, and they took huge pride in their work. During his whole life, my father never had his suits made elsewhere.

When my own time came to work in The City, my father advised me to visit Hyams, and generously said he'd pick up the tab.

I turned-up unannounced, and old Mr Hyams immediately began to take my details and measurements. He asked where I was working and what was my job description (I was a stockbroker's blue button). He suggested a heavy pin-stripe, a slightly waisted jacket, and two pairs of trousers (as I'd be spending much of my time sitting down). I don't think he even once asked my own opinion. 

He chatted about my father, threw huge bolts of material onto the enormous cutting table, and went through illustrated books. Eventually HE decided exactly what I wanted; he showed me a picture which I think he described as a 'Guards Officer' cut, with sloping jacket pockets, and slightly sloping trouser bottoms. It was single breasted, with a double vent, and a pinched waist. I thanked him, and arranged for my fitting in a couple of days time.

When I returned, the suit was waiting. It was all stitches and brown paper, and looked a complete mess. I tried it on, and after a couple of slight alterations I was told to pick it up the following day.

Hyams certainly wasn't Savile Row, their main business was the mass-production of cheap men's fashion suits. Their premises was filled with pale grey Duke of Windsor pattern, bum-freezer, Mod suits, that would have looked more at home on the back of a Lambretta, than in a City tailors; they were churning them out by the thousand, and they all hung in plastic bags from a primitive type of ceiling conveyor belt.

My suit was perfect, and it lasted for years; but unlike my father, I never went back for more. I wonder how many other 'private clients' they had; I imagine not very many. 

I doubt if Hyams is still there, but oh how I'd love to go back again; just as a tourist.






16 comments:

  1. 'Sloping jacket pockets' - that's Jewish tailor signal language for 'this man is a cad'. You were stitched-up.

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    1. Briony: I'm sorry I've had to delete your comment. Somehow half a mile of blank space appeared after it, and it was making everything look odd. Sorry!

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    2. My name's not Briony, and you didn't delete my comment.

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    3. I may just call you Briony from now on!

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  2. It would be nice to think that the tailor passed his talents onto his children and someplace on Milk Street, there is a tailor today still continuing to give good and quick service to his customers.

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    1. I'm not even sure if his old address is even there now. Property prices in The City are so crazy, that high-rise blocks have been built on every available site.

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  3. Imagine...a business that you can count on to be dependable. so rare these days.

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    1. And in my case, to be able to leave all the decision making to others!

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  4. I have always been amazed at these suit tailors, being a fan of sewing myself. I cannot call myself a seamstress anymore, but I used to sew a lot for my kids, and it was like therapy for me. Tailors today are very hard to come by. Good post.

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  5. I can sew a bit, but to create a suit like that is magnificent in my book.

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  6. Have you read 'A kid for two farthings' by Wolf Mankowitz - describes the tail end of the world of E London Jewish tailors in charming detail

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    1. My wife's friend, Jonathan Ashmore, played the small boy in the film version. Hyams was much more cluttered and much busier than the story version, but very similar in many ways.

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  7. Well Milk Street's still there but it all looks a bit modern. We have a tailor in our little town. He has a decorative spool holder in the window with all his threads on display and he also sells local honey.

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  8. When I win the lottery it is my fantasy to have all my clothes hand made for me......including undies and shoes....and in the back-to-back museum in Birmingham is a little tailor shop just like the one you describe.

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  9. This touched me as my grandparents were Tailors.They met at a well known Sydnet tailor shop where they were doing their apprenticeships and went on to marry and have their own shop in the country,where I eventually grew up,we were always surrounded by bolts of fabric and thresda and i know the brown paper look so well.
    As i read your blog i could smell the shop again a smell that only beeswax(used for their sewing needles to help glide through the thick suit fabric) the fabrics themselves and threads and machine oil from the industrial sewing machines..it was a lovely moment of memory.As usual thanks Cro.

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