When I got married, a looooonnnng ****ing time ago, I was planning on buying a decent suit off the peg. But a mate suggested I get the Yellow Pages out, and look down the list of Tailors. Soon as you see a Jewish name with an East London postcode, there's your guy. Anyway, Mr G.S. Roseman of Balls Pond Road in Dalston made me a truly wonderful whistle in a pearl grey English flannel. When I went back for my second fitting he had his mates in the shop to show them the "lovely bit of schmutter" he was working on. Cost £250 back in 1987, **** knows what that would be today, but worth every penny. That's my bespoke suit story. And the moral is, "do it". Think those old Jewish independents are all gone now though.
Pud went into Slaters and the sales assistant asked if he was looking for anything in particular. "Just something off the peg" replied our Pud, to which the sales assistant replied...... "If you can find something off the peg someone is getting their books"
So this man wants a new suit, and he goes to a tailor. The tailor puts him up on the platform surrounded by all those mirrors, takes his measurements, and says âOK, come beck in a veek, I'll heve de suit ready.â In a week the man returns to the tailor shop. âHereâs your suit,â says the tailor. âWell, Iâd like to try it on,â says the customer. So he goes in the dressing room, takes his clothes off, and starts putting on the suit. Itâs all but impossible to get into the thing! Finally, he has it on, comes out, and gets up on the platform again. He looks at himself, frowns, and says to the tailor, âThis suit is terrible! Look at this! The jacket sleeves are so long theyâre flopping! But the shoulders are so narrow I canât even breathe! The pants legs are baggy! But at the same time, the pants squeeze my hips!â On and on he complains. âVait a minute,â says the tailor, interrupting him. âHereâs vut youâll do. Youâll go like disâ¦â And the tailor shows him how to hold in his sleeves, hunch up his shoulders, tuck in the baggy pants with one hand, all at the same time, to âmake it fitâ. A few minutes later the man emerges from the shop onto the street. Heâs hobbling down the sidewalk, trying to walk while still holding his sleeve, hunching his shoulders, tucking the pants, etc, etc. Two old ladies waiting for a bus across the street notice him as he struggles along. âOy!â says one of the ladies, shaking her head in pity. âLook at that poor man!â âYes,â says her companion, also shaking her head. âBut doesnât his suit fit nice!â
