Clairvoyant, seriously frivolous, far from perplexed and evocatively fancy, all form the finest layer of life. I was recently introduced to this relatively new layer of NYC’s fine clothing world. The bespoke suit. Even if you posses all the beauty, I am sure you still have room for more. You will be sure as well, when you enter the Duncan Quinn atelier. The Savile Row reincarnation has set up shop in our vibrant city. Mr. Quinn is the Man, the chair and the dude of this fine establishment, where gentleman of wealth and taste can add a timeless piece to their wardrobe. He introduced ‘bespoke’ to capitalism. The term is rooted back in the very beginning of suit making. When a gentleman selected the fine cloth for his future armor, for his social battles or celebrations. When the cloth has been chosen (or spoken for), hence, bespoke. Choose life, choose a family, choose a career, choose a three-piece suit that will fit the occasion.
Because a bespoke suit is a lot more than just a garment. It is crafted both spiritually and scientifically. Mr. Quinn will ask about the occasion for the piece (a wedding, a cocktail party in Dubai, a diamond heist, you know the usual), which will dictate certain aspects of its physical properties (secret pockets and such). Then the suit will be hand cut, stitched and finished to a pattern made just for you from a unique set of measurements and anatomical notations.
Calling it tailoring is crude and condescending to the suit. A bespoke piece fits your soul, as well as your body. The fitting experience is like a symphony in several movements layered with life, smiles and scotch. No need to hold tight, the air here is breezy and life is good. Instead reach into the final touches box and pick a set of solid silver cufflinks with 007’s favorite toy etched onto them, the gun.
Now that you have your weapons and headed to the best martini bar in town to tell your hunting stories keep in mind the Duncan Quinn concierge services. Exclusive wine tastings, dinners, desert car rallies, yacht racings, the elusive special codes to locked social circles are the very personal type of magic that this establishment is able to provide.
For the gentlemen, the rogues and the rock stars, for all of us that a vesper is not enough. Whether starting your day with a double-edge safety razor and ending it with a martini, remember that every day is a dress rehearsal and Mr. Quinn builds his suits like sculptures. When the rogue in me needs a royal pardon, I visit Duncan Quinn.
— Milen Vasilev
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