There are, if you can credit such a thing, certain people who break their fast with something other than sausages. It’s an outrage to public decency of the first order (and we’re not even talking about the so-called Continental Breakfast, that unaccountable plate of cold leftovers that isn’t so much served as left on a side table, waiting to be discovered).
These people are amongst us, here in the UK. They might even be living next door to you. It’s dashed hard to identify them, for they look like you and me, they can read and write, and they ‘present’, as the medicos will have it, as perfectly ordinary, upstanding citizens. And where God intended sausages or porridge, they will ruminate on barnyard sweepings collectively called ‘muesli’.
It goes without saying that the monsters that gather up this dusty cattle-feed have to market it pretty hard. Their approach, whilst not precisely immoral nor technically in breach of the Trades Description Act, is as perverse as their product. Pick up a box of the stuff and you will almost inevitably find that the makers of this culinary outrage write about it in the collective first person singular.
Let us be clear precisely what we mean, for it is as alarming to the well-adjusted mind as a talking banana. The description of the barbaric mish-mash of dried fruit and oats is written AS IF IT IS DESCRIBING ITSELF. ‘I am a healthy, yum-filled alternative to such-and-such,’ it will likely say in a self-consciously winsome, faux-childlike tone.
The mind boggles.
What, we might ask when we fully recover, is going on? Pick up a jar of Tiptree jam and compare. The dignity and nobility of the label is perfectly in keeping with the contents; and the contents – crucially – don’t speak. Pop the lid and it simply says, ‘Jam packed with fruit.’ Brevity, as evidenced here, is the soul of wit.
Similarly, let us give credit to the excellent men and women of Berry Brothers. The Good Ordinary Claret, like the Extra Ordinary Claret, is precisely as described. In the third person. And the description, like the product, is mature, subtle and refreshingly to the point.
So you will understand that when we refer to our hand-finished city suits, we are referring to city suits that are hand finished. Not fully bespoke. Not simply off the peg. They are city suits that are hand finished or, if you’d rather, finished by hand.
This means we can offer the immediacy of off-the-peg outfits as well as the level of detail normally only found on fully bespoke ones. Everything from the pockets, collars and linings to the buttonholes, waistbands, flies and hems are, as the name suggests, stitched and sewn by hand.
We let the quality – not the suit - speak for itself.