Fashion Houses Are Doubling Down on Made-to-Measure Menswear

I’m standing in a room accessible by private elevator, sipping Scotch cooled by hand-chiseled ice, and listening intently as an immaculately dressed man presents me with a swatch of vicuña worth its weight in gold. Classically, such a scene would have played out in a bespoke tailor’s atelier. Only I’m in the Prada men’s store on Fifth Avenue—and in the market for made-to-measure.

Long existing in the shadow of bespoke, made-to-measure (or MTM) has been cast as the second-best option for those without the money—or the time—to enjoy tailoring’s ultimate expression. Recent retail developments on Manhattan’s choicest shopping streets, however, are painting a different picture.

This past spring witnessed the opening of a new Dolce & Gabbana flagship on Madison Avenue, followed swiftly by the launch of a dedicated Prada menswear store on Fifth. Aside from their uptown addresses, each features a physical carve-out devoted to its house’s respective made-to-measure program. Add in the news that fashion-forward British tailor Thom Sweeney—which has long championed its MTM creations with the same vigor that it promotes its bespoke—has a new Madison outpost in the works for early next year, and the result is a luxury made-to-measure corridor rapidly taking shape in Manhattan.

“It feels like where the energy has gone back to after Covid,” says Thom Sweeney cofounder Thom Whiddett, listing factors including existing clients moving uptown to raise their families, the presence of well-heeled tourists, and the opening in the environs of the buzzy new members’ club Maxime’s, which requires men to wear a jacket at all times.

Robert Burke, founder and C.E.O. of an eponymous luxury consultancy, similarly sees the retail zeitgeist migrating north. “SoHo is a very different SoHo than it was seven years ago,” he notes. “And the spend level in SoHo is not what it is on Madison.” He views it as no coincidence that the street’s renaissance is taking place as high-spending customers are increasingly drawn to custom clothing.

The key differentiation between bespoke and MTM: In the former, an entirely new pattern will be drafted, allowing for the most precise tweaks to the fit and for potentially limitless options where styling is concerned. An MTM garment, by comparison, is built from an existing pattern called a block, which may be adjusted to address jacket length, trouser rise, and other concerns not easily accommodated by off-the-rack alterations but starts from a preconfigured set of measurements rather than a client’s physical form.

Some people don’t have the patience to think, ‘I’m going to order something now and get it back in three to four months.’ Six weeks they can understand, and they’ll do that.

Creating a new pattern from scratch is obviously harder work, and to ensure that it’s done properly, multiple fittings are required. As a result, the typical lead time for a bespoke commission can be months, and longer still if you must wait for a traveling tailor to return to your city.

“It’s a commitment,” Burke says of bespoke. “It’s like a woman buying a couture gown.”

A made-to-measure item, on the other hand, often arrives in just weeks, either completely finished or only a few tweaks away from being worn out the door. But the divide is not all about timetables. Bespoke clothing is typically made with a greater level of handwork, imparting a nearly imperceptible quality that can’t be replicated with a sewing machine more commonly used on MTM.

“It has that level of consistency where every [garment] looks the same, whereas bespoke always has a little more character and variance to it, which a lot of people love,” says Whiddett, who opened the business in 2007 with fellow Savile Row–trained tailor Luke Sweeney. While they began with bespoke, the duo launched an MTM program the following year. In the nearly two decades since, Thom Sweeney has narrowed the gap between the two considerably by pushing its Italian MTM factory—which also produces the brand’s ready-to-wear—to increasingly adopt the features of its bespoke clothing, successfully mimicking everything from the greater heft of a handsewn waistband to the razor sharpness of a hand-cut peaked lapel.

Even so, Whiddett concedes that bespoke remains the bigger prize. “Once you’ve had bespoke, it’s hard to go back to made-to-measure,” he says. “It’s like flying private to first class.” As with air travel, the price differential can be substantial. At Thom Sweeney, an MTM suit starts at $3,325, while bespoke begins at $7,390.

But Whiddett reels off a variety of reasons why a client of bespoke means might choose MTM, relating to both time and intention. “Some people don’t have the patience to think, ‘I’m going to order something now and get it back in three to four months,’ ” he says. “Six weeks they can understand, and they’ll do that.”

And with its lower barrier to entry, there’s also the opportunity to go bolder. Whiddett cites the recent example of a client who elected to make his wedding tuxedo—a blue-chip wardrobe investment if there ever was one—fully bespoke, while pulling the MTM trigger for a more casual linen jacket he planned to wear for welcome drinks the night before.

“If it comes down to what you’re spending, I think you could be a little bit more cavalier with something made-to-measure,” he continues.

While I wait for another fitting to wrap up, I peruse the hanging ready-to-wear assortment and must restrain myself from brushing up against springy hopsacks, silky lambswools, and substantial sueded linens like a cat.

Fashion houses tend to have specific, more-forward points of view, so turning to one for MTM can also advance a customer’s personal style. Burke relates running into a friend who had long patronized Savile Row but was sporting a new MTM suit from Giorgio Armani, which he valued for being less fitted and more draped, in keeping with the Italian designer’s signature look.

“ ‘The reason I like it is because it’s modern made-to-measure, not the classic made-to-measure,’ ” Burke recalls his friend saying. “And I thought that was quite interesting.”

Meanwhile, from the perspective of the brands themselves, MTM provides plenty to recommend.

“It’s a new toy—something that you can dabble in—and at the end of the day, everyone can be happy,” says veteran menswear stylist Nick Wooster. “The retailers are happy because they don’t have to invest in a lot of excess inventory. The brands get more people wearing their clothes and ideally looking good in them. It’s a perfect calling card. 

My own made-to-measure adventure begins on a humid June morning with a first stop at Dolce & Gabbana at 695 Madison Avenue, which has turned a section of its stark second floor into the Sartoria, where a desk laden with fabric books and sample collar shapes is ringed by hanging examples of the house’s custom creations, executed in eye-catching jacquards and brocades. That such flash could be yours, I am reminded, is the value-add for visiting a fashion house versus your tailor.

My remit is for a tuxedo shirt, and I start by studying squares of slippery white fabric that look identical to the naked eye before homing in on their minute details: a tone-on-tone diamond pattern here, a tonal double-stripe there. As I deliberate, a tray with branded water glasses and espresso cups arrives. (I am told that excellent margaritas are shaken at the fourth-floor bar and lounge where MTM customers often congregate; unfortunately, it is not even noon.)

I bandy about the idea of having a tux shirt made from linen. While the textile is present on the table, I am gently but firmly advised to remain within the label’s black-tie aesthetic, which is structured, dramatic—and definitely not wrinkled. This, it occurs to me, is the other side of the coin: When a fashion house gives you the keys to their look, they also ask that you not drive it off the road.

In agreement, I land on an extra-fine cotton twill that might be sheer if not for the shirt’s piqué bib front. Swiping through an iPad display of possible configurations, I choose a traditional French cuff and then an ultra-traditional wing-tip collar, finishing what I assume must be the dullest commission ever to come out of the Sartoria. The salesman, unflinchingly polite, assures me that it is not. But it is very much in line with my own predilections for the classic and the understated, lessening the possibility I will suffer from buyer’s remorse.

All that’s left now is the measuring, which occurs as I try on two different sample sizes, with the larger clearly the better fit. A seamstress pins back the extra fabric while allowances are made for physical quirks like my dropped right shoulder, and the ideal roominess of the collar is divined. (I accept the salesman’s one-finger rule.) And with that, I bid the Sartoria ciao and make my way downtown to the not-yet-relocated Thom Sweeney.

With its blue billiards table, well-stocked wooden bar, and coterie of sharp-dressed men in jacket and tie, the atmosphere is less shop floor and more private men’s club. I’m introduced to tailor Richard Whatling, who’s in from London to attend to MTM clients. While I wait for another fitting to wrap up, I peruse the hanging ready-to-wear assortment and must restrain myself from brushing up against springy hopsacks, silky lambswools, and substantial sueded linens like a cat.

In the process, I’m reminded of a certain advantage that MTM holds over bespoke: the ability to see, and even try on, a good approximation of the final item. So by the time Whatling calls me up, I’m settled on my commission: I wish to reproduce an off-white wool, silk, and linen suit included in the label’s current spring-summer collection in my very non-ready-to-wear proportions.

As I slip into a jacket from that very suit in my size, Whatling concurs that its block fits me well—a promising early sign—with the exception of its obvious shortness on my six-foot-one frame. He proposes adding an inch to its length and points out where its amended button stance will fall. Next are the trousers, which I am unable to pull north of my pelvis owing to the monstrous size of my calves, a physical abnormality resulting from my left leg being a half inch shorter than the right. Whatling seems unperturbed and simply takes my leg measurements using the trousers I wore in.

Then, the styling. A rack of sample jackets allows me to see—and feel—the three different shoulder constructions on offer: a lightly roped and padded option in the more traditional British style; a soft, natural shoulder inspired by Italian tailoring; and a completely unstructured make that fits like a shirt. I opt for the middle one, mimicking the suit jacket I’ve tried on. Wearing it also allows me to see how its wider lapels, at a touch over four inches, look on me. While I’d have objected to their broadness on paper, I like them in practice and elect to keep the design over a narrower option.

The last concern is the pockets, which often bedevil me. I’d thought of going the patch route, as I appreciate the lovely roundness with which Thom Sweeney cuts the shape. But I’m beginning to be swayed by the existing jacket’s jetted pockets, not a detail I’d usually go for. Watching me flounder, Whatling helpfully suggests I opt for a flapped pocket, which can always be tucked into itself to appear jetted, should I prefer.

With the fitting concluded, I’m told that the order will go to Italy on Monday and that a completed garment will be ready to fit in under six weeks—a timeline bespoke could never compete with.

I skip back uptown, to the doors of Prada men’s at 720 Fifth Avenue. Upon arrival, I’m whisked upstairs to where made-to-measure happens—a private suite—and handed that glass of very good Scotch. I am beginning to feel very important, even before the MTM director draws the sliding doors that shut us off from the rest of the 13,000-square-foot boutique.

The now-enclosed and heavily mirrored space, its walls the same pillow-mint green that pervades the rest of the store, brings to mind the secret arsenal where the protagonist is outfitted in a James Bond or John Wick film. There are no weapons here, but the goods that hang from the walls—silk-denim jackets, double-faced cashmere coats, nappa-leather outerwear burnished by waxed finishes—feel just as lethal.

Of course, these dozens of garments are here only for reference purposes. The real action happens at a long glass table, where the MTM director lays out fabric books with the crisp efficiency of a seasoned casino dealer. From the brand’s signature Techno Stretch textile to 24-karat-gold pinstripe suiting to 20 shades of pure cashmere, it’s as if years’ worth of Prada collections have been atomized into square swatches and pushed into my hands, granting me the power to play God—or, at least, Raf Simons. The samples alone are proof that “MTM” and “luxury” belong in the same breath. 

So, do New York’s bespoke tailors have something to worry about? Brand consultant and stylist Larry Curran doesn’t think so, at least where the fashion houses are concerned. “I would encourage my clients to do the extra fitting that a bespoke process might entail,” he says, “rather than losing one fitting and getting a suit that is going to cost basically what a bespoke suit can from many really good tailors.”

Curran has a point: A made-to-measure Prada classic Tela Mohair suit, depending on the season, could run $6,000, not far from the summits of bespoke. Ultimately, the decision may come down to the same reason that a traditional Savile Row customer visits Huntsman over Anderson & Sheppard (or vice versa): because he already appreciates the house’s cut and point of view.

“If Dolce & Gabbana is your jam, then that’s where you should start,” Wooster says. “If it’s not, then maybe a more classic tailor would be a better fit for you.”

At the end of July, I return to Thom Sweeney to try on the almost-finished suit—and I’m delighted. The fit is superb, with just a little more room needed below the knee for my aforementioned calves, a slight shortening of the sleeves, and a reduction of the jacket’s center seam to account for my concave back. True to Whiddett’s word, there’s a satisfying heft to the waistband that I haven’t experienced in a non-bespoke trouser before, and I’m very taken with the wide, beautifully rolled lapel that I may not have dared ask for had I not had the opportunity to see it on a sample beforehand.

No matter where your made-to-measure journey brings you, this much is clear: There has never been a better time to stand still for the tailor.