A Cuff Above

Until recently, the only garment ever made specifically for me was a dowdy macramé sweater scarred with Newport Light burns. Actually, it wasn't a sweater—just a sleeve, constructed over many years with a characteristic mix of love and laziness by my grandmother, a woman who believed that all children needed one sweater knitted just for them but who also used knitting as an instant soporific after M*A*S*H repeats, a few crèmes de menthe and 40 or so cigarettes. Had she lived to be 100 instead of 75, she still would not have finished the second sleeve.

The incomplete sweater never caused me any psychic pain, but I had always wondered what it would be like to wear something built with my body in mind. Custom-made shoes can cost $3,000, and a custom-made suit twice that, but a number of High Street men's clothiers—including Brooks Brothers, Joseph A. Bank and Thomas Pink—have started to turn out dress shirts made to measure for about $200 a pop—more than the ones already pinned to cardboard and wrapped in plastic but not that much more.

So I decided to dive in and get myself some custom-made love. I made an appointment at Thomas Pink in Manhattan and was quickly ushered into a private alcove away from the prying eyes of mere retail shoppers. "We feel that the custom-made customer is making a commitment to us," said Alexander, my tailor, "and we want to reciprocate with special treatment." he then brought me a bottle of water and delivered a stirring monologue on the history of the shirt cuff—the French cuff was apparently born when Napoleon ordered extra-long sleeves so that his soldiers could wipe their nose on the excess, then fold the cuff to hide the snot—that climaxed with "Are you ready to see our cuffs?" I was ready to invade Russia.

Most of what Alexander did was shepherd me through decisions. There are two basic shapes of shirt—regular cut for suits and slim cut for jeans—but close to a dozen collars and even more cuffs. In the end, I went slim cut, basic cutaway collar, no pocket, no monogram and cocktail cuff, which Alexander described as "the cuff for anyone with James Bond aspirations." Fabric choices were pretty basic. Most colors were represented, and there were a few interesting patterns, but the real decision was about thread count—100, 170 or 200, each of which had a corresponding price escalation. After feeling the gossamer soft 200, then the merely luxurious 100, I decided on a very subtle white-on-white checked 170. Mostly because I didn't think I would be able to expense the 200.

Oddly, there wasn't much measuring involved besides the basic sleeve and collar. That's because the tailors in Pink's Ireland shop start with their regular retail-base model and then build out with the customized choices. It's like Pimp My Shirt. But since I was interested in finding someone to make a garment that hugged my contours as well as satisfied my whims, I headed to Seize sur Vingt, a small men's boutique that promised to make me a shirt from scratch.