A little tailoring shop in Soho, London.
Tailor Tom Baker. Trained on Savile Row, but with an aesthetic that owes more to Paganini and punk rock than to banking and the bourgeoisie.
A fitting. There is surely something magickal about following a process of creation this closely.
What the courier brought.
A devilish detail.
The full kit. Bow tie by Favourbrook, Chelsea boots (a decade old by now) by Jeffery-West, goat's head mask by Ca'Macana of Venice, oversized and disorganized record collection: Demented basset hound's own shame.
Expensive as a full bespoke suit is, it is not only an investment in proper cloth but also in one's weight. In other words: Lord Bassington-Bassington now has an objective measure of how wide his waistline is allowed to become. And this is good news, for despite being superior creatures Basset hounds are prone to weight gain. That will not be acceptable in the future.