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Deep in a Mayfair basement, I find myself in a living nightmare. A kindly French woman measures my arms, my chest; examines the extremities of my torso. For many men, this is a torturous task, one that involves reminding you of what you’ve eaten, how you’ve worked out (or not), or simply what you’ve inherited from your father. The woman asks, “How do you like your T-shirts?” My mind races through the dozens of T-shirts I have at home, ranging from baggy 90s-style to tight, optimistic ones. Eventually, I croak, “I prefer it… structured?” She pretends to know what I mean.
I’m standing in the new Sunspel. shop on jermyn streeta spacious, stylish space packed with the British brand’s signature boxers, knitwear and T-shirts, as well as a selection from its extensive archive (it was founded in Nottingham in 1860). Sunspel has long been famous for its T-shirts – they account for 22 per cent of its business, which is forecast to reach a turnover of £30m by 2024. Fans include Ronnie Wood and Charlie Watts of The Rolling Stones (they had different types custom-made, to fit the guitar and drums respectively) and Cillian Murphy, who promoted Oppenheimer Last year, on its £90 Classic model, the brand offered a bespoke service for everyone, with body length, arm length, fabric, colour, pockets and embroidered trim all subject to your approval. “Where to find the perfect T-shirt?” is a question many are asking. Apparently, here is the solution.
“It’s a unique opportunity to be able to make a T-shirt from our fabrics in our factory,” says Sunspel creative director David Telfer. “I suppose it’s like going to a tailor in Savile Row.” They offer this not so much to satisfy a compelling need from customers – “We get very few complaints or requests about our T-shirts,” he is quick to add – but to anticipate what they might want next. “It came from an understanding that people are looking for something more special.”
This desire for the tailored is increasingly visible in luxury, but doing so with the T-shirt, which was originally an undergarment popularised by the US military, remains relatively unique. Then again, it is now often a formal item in a wardrobe, so it gets the proper treatment. I want mine to be the kind I can wear to a fancy dinner or a wedding, which makes me part of a wider trend. Sunspel’s two most popular T-shirts are their Made in England Classic T-shirt and the Riviera T-shirtmade from lightweight and midweight cottons respectively, “but we’ve seen an increase in a slightly heavier fabric, with a slightly looser silhouette and a wider collar edge,” Telfer says. “It’s what I’ve started wearing a lot more when I’m wearing a structured jacket or blazer. It fits a little bit more because it can support the weight of a heavier jacket.”
In the outside world, there are all kinds of T-shirts available, from oversized boxy cuts to loose-fitting ones with dangerously pronounced collars, but, although it comes in a handful of versions, the fundamental design of Sunspel’s version has changed little over the decades (adjustments have been “incremental,” says Sunspel chief executive Raul Verdicchi). This is something confirmed by a prototype from the 1930s, now framed on the walls. The bespoke offering will be available in five different fabrics, including the company’s trademark Sea Island cotton and a more recent invention, a cotton-silk blend. Prices start at £160, compared with £90 for ready-to-wear; all customisations are included in them. This means that Sunspel still sits at the lower end of the luxury T-shirt offering, its basic cotton being cheaper than its traditional cotton counterparts. Parrot Piana (from £415), Brunello Cucinelli (£340) or The queue (£550).
I don’t want anything radical. I ask that the shirt be waist-high, I opt for a plain, closed collar, I want the sleeves to be about halfway down (anything to avoid them looking like “raw baguettes,” as a friend once called them). I choose a medium-weight fabric in white. I have stronger feelings elsewhere: absolutely no to the prospect of a pocket—to me, it’s always seemed like excessive design, and Sunspel’s dozens of options, however pretty, can’t convince me otherwise. As for the initials, I start by despising them, and then, as we go through the samples, I succumb. A small set of initials, in pale, barely visible stitching, on the sleeve—who would know? Why else am I having this experience? I’m not sure this will be the perfect shirt—knowing me, that will probably remain unattainable. Still, it comes close to something special.