I hope you are forgiving, dear reader, for the Anachronist will now make a scandalous admission: until recently, he had never owned a shirt that fit. Sure, he had ones with the correct numbers–the store clerks confirmed it–but the Anachronist is not so easily fooled. He knew quite well that he was purchasing half-fits, transgressing the laws of good taste. But lest you be too hasty to condemn him, consider the circumstances!

Moroni, "The Tailor", circa 1570

There was once a time when all clothes were custom made. They could be made well or poorly, in the family or by a professional, but they were always made for their recipient. The only clothes that were not personal in this way were hand-me-downs. Today, nearly everyone dresses in the equivalent of hand-me-downs, even when they purchase things new. Pricier items may be of fine quality, but they were made for someone else: for our brother, Mr. 38 Long, or our cousin, Dr. Large. The crudity of this method is particularly conspicuous for those of us blessed with uncommon proportions.

The solution, of course, is a return to the tailor-made. Clothes that have been correctly tailored have a perfect fit in every respect. The aesthetic superiority of such a costume is even greater than one might expect. It lends the wearer a grace and elegance that is simply impossible with standard sizing. The effect is not merely apparent, either. Tailored clothing is distinctly comfortable: one feels at home in one’s skin.

But wait!–prudence objects–aren’t such clothes the province of the wealthy? Don’t they cost a month’s wages for the working man? Perish the thought that such a privilege should be reserved for the capitalist elite–a group frequently distinguished by their lack of refinement rather than their abundance. Yet we all ought to learn this trick from the rich: buying finer things saves money in the long run. Clothes from a good tailor often last several times as long as those bought off-the-rack. Thus, even if they cost twice as much, they may actually prove more affordable–as long as one buys classic styles and avoids the siren’s squawk of the trendy.

Yet even those who see that custom clothing is a winning proposition may not be able to afford the services of a local tailor. Luckily, they don’t have to. Western globetrotters have known for years that excellent tailors can be found in Hong Kong or Bangkok for a fraction of the domestic price. Recently, several websites have sprung up that capitalize on this sartorial bounty by offering custom clothing–tailored in the orient and transported by courier–at rates that even the petite-bourgeoisie can afford.

Through such services, the Anachronist has redeemed himself. He can stand tall without the worry that his cuffs will withdraw from his jacket or his shirttails from his trousers. There is nothing that the Anachronist recommends more than rectitude–whether moral or physical–and any object that encourages such behavior is to be commended. Read on for the Anachronist’s account of his first adventure in trans-pacific haberdashery.