An odd jacket is harder than a suit — there is nothing beneath it to hide behind. Cut alone, a jacket must stand alone.
A blazer is cut to be worn open, moved in, sat in — so the house cuts it softer: lighter canvas, a shoulder with less ceremony, a pattern that is still yours alone. The blazer forgives the day; the fit forgives nothing.
Hopsacks and twills that hold their line, flannels and linens honest about Bombay, checks and herringbones a suit could never carry — from Loro Piana, Zegna, Dormeuil, Holland & Sherry. You choose at the atelier, bolt in hand.
One sitting, written down for life. Basted, then fitted open and closed — because a blazer lives both ways.
Every future commission begins from a measure we already know.
A navy hopsack answers almost every invitation the city sends. The second blazer is where the cloth gets interesting.
Bring them to the fitting — the jacket is balanced against what it will actually be worn with. Better still, commission the trousers to it.
If your week is boardrooms, the suit. If your week is dinners, travel and Fridays, the blazer earns its keep faster.
Horn or corozo by default; brass if you mean it. Decided with you at the fitting, like everything else.
More in The Commission — what to know before we begin.
The house will write to you to confirm the hour.