There’s the right way–and the other way–to wear a suit with a three button jacket.
I got my first in 1959; it was the first bit of clothing I ever bought that didn’t come from Higbee’s* basement. I went up to the men’s suit department (at the age of 15) and bought a nice, grey worsted wool suit. The tailor measured the inseam in a way that seemed a bit intrusive (but wasn’t).
Then, he told me that I had uncommonly big shoulders (the result years of peddling the Cleveland Press and the PeeDee with a heavy bag slung over the shoulder) that required shortening the neck of the coat. Every other off-the-rack suit I’ve bought since that first one, fifty years ago, has needed the same tailoring.
Finally, my tailor told me to liberate the button on the bottom; said that buttoning it killed the line of the coat. “Never button the bottom button on a three button suit”. NEVER.
Now that they are back in style, it seems only fair that I pass on that wisdom from the closest thing to a bespoke tailor I ever had.
Tell the guy in the picture to unbutton and then take another picture. You’ll see; and so will he.
*Higbee’s?
Have you ever been there? Of course, you have. It’s where Ralphie went with his folks (dorky but lovable pop, Darren McGavin (RIP) and his mother–sexy beyond belief– Melinda Dillon, in the “Christmas Story” to meet Santa.
I didn’t suggest questioning the wisdom of my tailor. I suggested trying it the way my tailor suggested I (and everybody else) do it.
So, try it; you’ll see. It is as it should be.
If you’re gonna get persinckety, I’d come with an even better gotcha question: Why are there four (count ‘em, four), useless buttons on the sleeve of said-same three-button suit?.
Apocraphyl–but believable–the answer to the buttons-on-sleeve query is that Napoleon’s troops were inclined to deal with their head-colds by wiping their Gallic shnooks on their Grand Armee sleeves. Nothing could makes that wipe uncomfotable quite like having to wipe one’s shnook across four brass buttons.
That may be the story. That may be a lot of hooey. But, it makes sense to me
There’s the right way–and the other way–to wear a suit with a three button jacket.
I got my first in 1959; it was the first bit of clothing I ever bought that didn’t come from Higbee’s* basement. I went up to the men’s suit department (at the age of 15) and bought a nice, grey worsted wool suit. The tailor measured the inseam in a way that seemed a bit intrusive (but wasn’t).
Then, he told me that I had uncommonly big shoulders (the result years of peddling the Cleveland Press and the PeeDee with a heavy bag slung over the shoulder) that required shortening the neck of the coat. Every other off-the-rack suit I’ve bought since that first one, fifty years ago, has needed the same tailoring.
Finally, my tailor told me to liberate the button on the bottom; said that buttoning it killed the line of the coat. “Never button the bottom button on a three button suit”. NEVER.
Now that they are back in style, it seems only fair that I pass on that wisdom from the closest thing to a bespoke tailor I ever had.
Tell the guy in the picture to unbutton and then take another picture. You’ll see; and so will he.
*Higbee’s?
Have you ever been there? Of course, you have. It’s where Ralphie went with his folks (dorky but lovable pop, Darren McGavin (RIP) and his mother–sexy beyond belief– Melinda Dillon, in the “Christmas Story” to meet Santa.
OK, I must ask the very obvious question:
Why, then, does a 3-button jacket have 3 buttons, if the bottom button is NEVER to be buttoned?
I didn’t suggest questioning the wisdom of my tailor. I suggested trying it the way my tailor suggested I (and everybody else) do it.
So, try it; you’ll see. It is as it should be.
If you’re gonna get persinckety, I’d come with an even better gotcha question: Why are there four (count ‘em, four), useless buttons on the sleeve of said-same three-button suit?.
Apocraphyl–but believable–the answer to the buttons-on-sleeve query is that Napoleon’s troops were inclined to deal with their head-colds by wiping their Gallic shnooks on their Grand Armee sleeves. Nothing could makes that wipe uncomfotable quite like having to wipe one’s shnook across four brass buttons.
That may be the story. That may be a lot of hooey. But, it makes sense to me
But, logistically, if you lift your arm to wipe your schozz on your sleeve, the buttons are on the outside, away from your dripping nose.
Logistically, Napoleon had his good days and his bad days. See Minard:
http://waterbloggedinwaukesha.blogspot.com/2008/11/logistics.html
He told the tailors of the empire to put buttons on the grunts’ sleeves. He didn’t think they needed to the strategy behind the order.