I have a new suit. It’s bespoke, made in the UK and costs £2,000. The process of making it, and now wearing it and feeling amazing in it, has been an emotional and physical comfort. It’s a fabric-based therapy—and as a talk therapy veteran, let me tell you this: This alternative works, and it works fast.
I’ve been longing for a well-fitting suit. I’m tall but not skinny, and menopause stole my waist. However, I increasingly crave style, like many of my peers, as more confidence is a bonus of middle age.
Staying relevant in the workplace is also key for many of us still in corporate life. Good looks help tackle an ‘invisible problem’: women over 50 are the fastest-growing segment of the UK workforce, yet they are often overlooked in recruitment or promotions due to prejudice and ageism.
What set me on this journey was a FT reader review titled “My search for the perfect suit” by Annachiara Biondi. The best of these off the shelf cost £1,000. “Go custom. Cheaper in the long run,” said one reader. Suggestions for tailors include: suzanne hall (Thanks to “Inversnaid” for the tip).
As it turned out, Hall was just the right choice for the bespoke suiting novice. She’s easygoing – the exact opposite of what I’d imagine a haute sartorial to be – and a natural at ease. As she should, she’s been doing it since 1996, starting her own business after studying textiles at art college and working with her designer/architect father.
“I was obsessed with tailoring,” she told me when I asked about her backstory. It combines “my love of creativity, design, colour, fabrics, fashion and people,” she said.
Only about 15 percent of Hall’s clientele were women — but in her early days, that number was zero — and tailors back then couldn’t fit women’s bodies professionally.
When I walked into Hall’s compact Clerkenwell store in November 2022, I knew nothing about it. I broke down. My marriage was in deep crisis and I was traumatized. Amidst the chaos, donning cloth armor to face the world is a tantalizing prospect.
I quickly learned from people who have survived a nuclear bomb attack in their personal lives that it is crucial to know your “embodied self” during these times. It sounds like nonsense, but it’s a solid concept: Embodying being here means being aware of being present in your body. celebrate it.
That’s why yoga and running work so well during a tough economy. In retrospect, I realize why angry middle-aged women would create suits that fit their bodies perfectly. It’s an act of self-love, an act that is measured, observed and cared for by tailors like Hall and skilled tailors, all in England, making suits to her specifications.
Still, stepping out of the downpour of the Hall store for the first time, any body awareness was limited to panic about whether I’d have to take off my underwear to measure. (Hall, in fact, is so experienced that she only uses her eyes and a tape measure to measure her customers’ clothes.)
We sat down and looked at some fabric swatch books for possible looks and color combinations. what do I like? I mentioned Margaret Howell’s minimalist vision, and Katharine Hamnett’s popular 1980s oversized long jacket. Even more fashionable, Cos. The bold, simple tailoring of high street chains isn’t usually for me – but I love the look.
We browsed the sample books and settled on light blue gray worsted wool with subtle herringbone stripes. It’s lined with an almost purple paisley pattern. Hall drew up a sketch and discussed what the suit might look like. Exaggerated pockets on jackets, deep slits, big cuffs on trousers—everything is just a little “extra.” I loved it, paid the deposit, went home, and waited.
Over the next few months, only the fabric swatches on my desk reminded me that something had happened. I started to doubt my decision. Is wearing a suit a colossal act of vanity and stupidity? Yes, obviously. I didn’t tell anyone for months. It’s not easy to spend that much on clothes when the idea of your spending spree is to get cheap sweaters at TK Maxx. Such is the distaste of the English middle class for showing off, spending money or making themselves stand out.
My previous custom clothing experience was a wedding dress.it is from Antonia Pu-Thomas, is now a fashion manufacturer with a shop in London. In the late 1990s, I got her phone number from a friend of a friend. She’s just getting started, and the accessories are in her apartment, and it all seems rebellious and understated, which somehow obscures the fact that I’m getting married. My dad paid for it.
Still, the suit is considered a forever piece of clothing, a statement of my grown-up self, paid for by me. Since Pugh-Thomas made that shimmering silk coat, two grown children – though it’s still beautiful – have only been worn once, and I’ve been ‘given’ from one man to another man.
In early 2023, Hall regained contact. I need to come in and try it out. She made me wear the loosely stitched jacket and pants, still missing all the detailing and lining. It’s perfect. Doubts were dispelled. Hall filled the pin and sent it off to finish.
In early April, the lawsuit came back. The first time I saw it was hanging on the railing with other finished products waiting to be collected. A slim number in electric blue caught my eye – maybe next time?
By now, my marriage is starting to come back together, and it’s been a raw recovery for both of us. The parallel process of making suits is a key part of my own reboot and recuperation.
Wearing these pieces feels like something broken snaps back together. These trousers fit perfectly. A baggy jacket – but not too baggy. I burst into tears, thanking Hall so much for realizing this vision of a slightly better version of myself.
isabel bewick Presenter of Working It at the Financial Times podcast and write a weekly Working It newsletter – sign up ft.com/newsletters
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