NEW YORK

High above Manhattan, on the top floor of a skyscraper with the skyline unfurled on every side, the House received its clients for a season of private fittings. The energy of the city met the patience of Savile Row: thirty measurements taken by hand, silhouette and cloth discussed at length, a paper pattern begun for one man alone.

New York understands the language of a well-cut suit. Between the skyline and the fitting mirror, each appointment was unhurried and entirely personal, the first chapter of a wardrobe built to be worn for decades, not seasons.