18th April - Hong Kong.

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After a day in work I decided to set about getting the tailor-made suit that Hong Kong is famous for. I’ve been warned that prices here are likely to be similar to those in London or Paris, but I set a price of HK$1300 for one suit in my head, around £100. A suit at that price (or maybe two) would be a bargain.

In the shop recommended by Lonely Planet, the window and glass door appear to be tinted thickly silver but the haze doesn’t clear when I walk in. The Indian proprietor is just spreading some joss sticks and incense around, and correctly guesses my nationality. As a self-professed expert on matters of the UK he interrogates me but can’t place my accent - “Not Cardiff, I was there last month”. A good salesman, he flies around me in a blur with his tape, declares my figure awkward and observes that my current suit was also tailor made, because an off-the-peg suit would never fit a figure such as mine. He’s wrong, they’re First Group’s very own bus-driver trousers and bear their logo on a waist-tag, but we get down to business. I want two suits, blue and grey, lightly patterned but certainly not pinstripe. “Such a shame” he announces, since two suits in plain material are within reach of my $2000 total budget (I cunningly leave room for subsequent movement, you see) and pinstripe is certainly within it, but the lightly patterned material carries a premium he thinks I might just be willing to pay. I stick to my target price of perhaps $2200 and soon rolls of woven cashmere are flying off the shelves to be fingered thoughtfully and cuffs and lapels are discussed in fleeting half-sentences, although I frankly have no idea what constitutes a good base or design for a suit. As an engineer it has to cover me decently and ideally keep me warm in a Cumbrian hailstorm.

I choose two suitable cloths and this material is suddenly Hugo Boss: “Excellent choice, my friend. Bought in England from London only last month, but, it’s such a shame, neither fit your price band Sir”. Hands and heads start waving, suggesting the worst material for $2500, something akin to denim for perhaps $3500 and the Hugo Boss can be done for $4000. I attempt combining one ‘Boss’ suit and one in the ‘denim’ for some movement to a combination price, and various numbers are suggested - I get confused and make a mistake which he pounces on, suggesting one Boss suit and one in the plain material for $3500 but the overall cost appears to be climbing now, not falling. I play my trump card and consider leaving ‘to think it over’. Suddenly, because he is a gentleman, he reconsiders his profit margins and produces a new set of figures just for me, because he likes me. He mentions that he’s been to Birmingham last month (“fish market, in the centre, closes at six”) and then gets confused and makes a mistake (perhaps deliberate), offering me the suits I originally wanted for $3500. Not put off by his rambling I seize on his gaffe and take the deal.

A expert salesman, he then backloads the deal with spare trousers, five shirts and two silk ties in matching material to bring out my complexion, Scotchguard and supercrease and produces a figure of $6000. I’m wise to that idea and nail him down on two suits for $3500, pay a deposit and leave, returning in two days for the first fitting. As I walk out, I’m suddenly drawn to wonder what an Indo-Chinese tailor is doing in fish market just after closing time, and marvel at how I’ve been fleeced way above my budget by a very skilled salesman. At £260 they’re no longer bargain-basement suits but they might just fit me properly. After all, I’ve an awkward figure and he’s a gentleman. The name of this tailor’s shop? “Stitched up”. Today’s song is ZZ Top’s “Sharp dressed man”, hopefully.

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