The Art of the Suit
When Martin Greenfield was a young tailor working for GGG Clothiers in Brooklyn making custom suits for Dwight D. Eisenhower, he liked to tuck little notes detailing his concerns for the nation into a hidden trouser pocket for the president to find “by accident.”
“If you want to end the war,” one of his anonymous notes said, “you’ll send John Dulles [Eisenhower’s secretary of state] on a two-week vacation.”
Greenfield isn’t sure how much influence his advice ultimately had on world affairs, but his impact on presidential fashion is indisputable.
As the personal suit maker to four of the last nine presidents, including Eisenhower, Lyndon Johnson, Gerald Ford and Bill Clinton, Greenfield has been shaping the sartorial image of America’s political and business leaders for almost four decades.
But the master tailor’s signature label and tailoring skills are not confined to world leaders. He has also made suits for actors Paul Newman, Danny Aiello and Al Pacino, talk-show host Conan O’Brien and athlete Shaquille O’Neal. And, as the principal maker of suits bearing the Donna Karan Couture label as well as made-to-measure clothing sold at Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue and Brooks Brothers, Greenfield has his hands in some of the finest menswear made in America today.
A gentle, unimposing man with silver hair, a round face and a big toothy smile, the 69-year-old Greenfield has headed his own company, Martin Greenfield Clothiers, since 1978. It took him almost 30 years to save enough money to buy the Brooklyn factory and GGG Clothiers--where he went to work after his 1947 release from Buchenwald concentration camp.
Growing up in Czechoslovakia, Greenfield imagined himself a doctor, not a tailor. But World War II changed his life and his dreams. He learned the art of suit making to survive as a prisoner in the camps and the skill helped him find his first job when he immigrated on Sept. 18, 1947, to the United States.
Over the years he has become so versed in the subject of fine suit making that other designers, including Karan, Alan Flusser and Alexander Julian, sought his help and his factory in developing their upscale clothing businesses. He also began touring the country, preaching the virtues of expensive, hand-tailored clothing, particularly the Brooks Brothers’ classic two- and three-button suits he makes for the chain’s Golden Fleece label.
“There’s so much confusion among young men because of these discount stores that offer them suits at any price,” says Greenfield, sizing up a customer during a recent personal visit to the Brooks Brothers store in Century City. “If every morning you open up a newspaper or turn on the television and you see that you can get a suit for $199 and maybe even get a sport coat thrown in for free, why should you spend $1,000 for just a suit?”
The answer is obvious, says Greenfield. “The biggest bargain is quality.” The customer who understands style and quality is also more likely to succeed, he says. “A future boss doesn’t remember where a guy worked before or what sort of degree he has. When you leave the room, all he remembers is your suit.”
A well-made suit starts with the fabric he says, pulling out flip books filled with hundreds of swatches of the finest fabrics from the best Italian factories. He asks a customer to rub the cloth between his fingers. “Can you feel that? There is no cashmere in this fabric but it feels just like silk, doesn’t it? That’s quality.”
Other ways of recognizing quality? “Look at the construction. Look at the fabric. Look at the way the fabric drapes. Look at the way the lapel rolls and the shoulders fit. Look to see that the buttonholes are made by hand [they should be smooth when you glide your fingers over them] and that the buttons on the sleeves function.” But most important, he says, is to examine the suit to be certain it isn’t “fused.”
The mark of a well-made suit, according to this “Tailor to Presidents,” is that the pieces are sewn together by hand; an inexpensive suit is fused or glued. Greenfield takes the fabric of a navy pinstripe jacket between his hands and pulls at the cloth to reveal two distinct layers sewn together--impossible to do with a fused coat. “The glue makes the garment stiff,” he says, choking back a painful expression.
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Still, says Greenfield, a fused suit is better than no suit. When IBM relaxed its policy on casual dressing a few years ago, Greenfield was among the first to write a letter to the company’s chief executive making it clear that he “would never buy a computer from a guy who came to me in a pair of blue jeans.”
One customer the presidential tailor no longer gives unsolicited advice, however, is the current occupant of the White House. Clinton, who fortunately favors the same Donna Karan line of comfortable, loose-fitting crepe suits that Greenfield approves of, has warned his tailor about trying to hide any notes in his pants pockets.
It seems President Clinton heard the story of Greenfield’s “accidental” letters to Eisenhower and pulled the tailor aside when he was being fitted at the White House one afternoon. “He said, ‘Martin, don’t write me no notes,’ ” recalls Greenfield. “ ‘Here’s my fax number.’ ”
