My chosen tailor was Paul Kitsaros. His premises are in the same thoroughfare, Cleveland Street (close to Great Portland Street underground station), as the basement which was once the home of George the Tailor – a workshop for decades much frequented by impecunious young chaps seeking the elusive ‘bargain bespoke’. (George has now retired.) Mr Kitsaros is more expensive. My three-piece suit was £1,000 to make, and his prices for two-piece suits made with his own materials start at £1,200. But at least he is on the ground floor, so that one does not have to negotiate George’s frightening metal staircase.

At this point, I should impress upon you, dear Reader, that we are now far from the elegant chambers and framed royal warrants of Savile Row. Indeed, if the privacy afforded by the changing room of your tailor is a matter of importance to you, you might be well advised to avoid 66 Cleveland Street altogether. The amenities here might be described most kindly as ‘eccentric’, and during the course of my fittings various ladies wandered by in full view – although I had the sense that they were carefully averting their gaze as I struggled into and out of my trousers. When, on my first visit, I attempted to hang up my jacket, the coat hook fell out of the wall. And Mr Kitsaros himself is somewhat given to that style of conversation which responds to requests with, “Yes, yes, yes” – even when, as becomes evident subsequently, it should really have been, “No, no, no”. (I advise you to go with a written list of your requirements, so there can be no misunderstandings.)

I decided that it should be made in the same style as the summer suit made for me by Mr Golding in St Alban’s (see separate article). The jacket would be single-breasted, but with peaked lapels, to be fastened with just one button. (I detest jackets with two buttons. And I love the hint of grandeur in peaked lapels.) There would be a single rear vent, two outside waist pockets with flaps and an outside breast pocket. There would be one buttonhole in the left lapel. All four buttonholes on each cuff would be working. (I should stress that I will never be leaving any of these cuff buttons undone – a vulgar affectation of the very worst sort.) The waistcoat would be double-breasted, with peaked lapels, two lower pockets without flaps, and four buttons to fasten. (You will observe how I wear my watch chain. I considered a hole for the chain, but rejected this as too fussy with this particular style of waistcoat.) The trousers would sit high and have turn-ups, straight side pockets, a back for braces, a button fly and two inward-facing pleats on each side of the front.