As soon as I returned to the factory with the president’s measurements, the entire team got to work. The president was a solid 44 long. Within two weeks we had four beautiful Donna Karan ventless jackets with the low-button stance, two pairs of double-pleated pants, and two traditional tuxedos. I also made President Clinton his set of white tie and tails, which he wore to the Gridiron Club dinner. In total, we made over twenty suits for Clinton throughout his presidency. He couldn’t believe the results. The suits, which were the first of many he ordered throughout his presidency, fit perfectly but still gave him the stretch and comfort he loved—something only a true hand-tailored suit can achieve.
History interrupted my meeting to fit President George W. Bush.
In 2001, I traveled to Washington, DC, and stayed at the Mayflower in preparation for my trunk show at the downtown Brooks Brothers. I was scheduled to meet President Bush that day for a measuring after he returned from Florida. The date was September 11, 2001.
When news broke of the terrorist attacks on the Pentagon, people flooded the streets and fled the capital. I made contact with Arlene and the boys. Once I knew they were safe and realized that I had no way of leaving Washington that day, I decided to keep the trunk-show date. The next morning I walked to Brooks Brothers. I didn’t think any customers would show up, but they did, one right after the other. People deal with fear and grief differently. I suppose it was their way of distracting themselves, of making a small statement that the terrorists would not intimidate them into changing their way of life. Measuring every customer that day, I was never prouder to be an American.
I struggled the rest of the week to find a way home. Eventually, my good friend General Colin Powell stepped in and somehow got me a first-class train ticket to New York. Pulling into Grand Central Station, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes when I saw the gaping hole in the skyline where the Twin Towers had stood majestically just a few days earlier. My heart fluttered the moment I realized that the North Tower of the World Trade Center had been home to the Windows on the World restaurant, many of whose staff I saw regularly and considered friends. I’d experienced loss throughout my life. Like so many other Americans, I never believed evil possessed the ability to turn our buildings into battlefields, civilian airplanes into missiles. I grieved our nation’s loss of life and loss of innocence. It was a feeling I knew all too well and had hoped my fellow Americans would never have to experience.
Initially, the Obama White House neither confirmed nor denied that Martin Greenfield Clothiers made President Obama’s suits. It’s always been our policy not to comment on whether we dress a celebrity or public figure until he or his representatives mention it publicly. But when former Washington Post Style editor Ned Martel wrote a moving profile on me wherein he reported that the White House visitor logs contained Tod’s, Jay’s, and my names, the connection became public knowledge.
To date, we’ve made many suits for President Obama. In fact, virtually every suit he’s worn since February 2011 has been one of ours. Doing so has been an incredible honor and privilege. The president’s aide said he likes the suits so much he doesn’t like to travel without them.
It all started in October 2010 with an email Jay received from the legendary Chicago fashion retailer Ikram Goldman, owner of the Ikram boutique. A style advisor to first lady Michelle Obama, Ikram had been asked to recommend an American tailor who could make fine suits for President Obama. She graciously recommended us.
There was one condition, though. The White House said President Obama didn’t want to be measured. They would send us one of his suits for us to copy. I told Jay no way. “You write back to the White House aide and say that Martin Greenfield does not copy anybody’s suits. Everybody copies Martin Greenfield’s suits. You understand?” Ever the diplomat, Jay finessed my message slightly. Still, it worked. We received a note insisting it would be a pleasure to have me come to the White House on November 2, 2010, to measure President Obama for his first Martin Greenfield suit.
No matter how many times I visit the White House, I always feel like a little kid, filled with wonder. Those visits remind me of my first trip to Washington, DC, with Kalvin all those years before. Back then I looked at the White House from the outside. To measure and make suits for the president humbles me.
The first time I met President Obama was in his private office on the third floor of the White House at seven o’clock in the evening. I was struck by his height and smile. He’s built like a fitting mannequin, a 40 long with an impressive 33½-inch waist, which makes dressing him extremely enjoyable.
The president showed us a fine Italian-made suit jacket. “Feel this jacket. It’s soft and feels really nice. This is the kind of thing I would like you to do for me,” he explained.
“Mr. President, this I can do. In fact, it’s going to be much, much better than this.” He liked that.
He also had some suits from Hart Schaffner Marx, an American company. During the 2012 presidential campaign, the press began comparing the president’s suits with Governor Mitt Romney’s Hickey Freeman suits and said President Obama’s looked better. What they failed to mention was that the suits they were comparing were our suits, not Hart Schaffner Marx’s.
I wanted to do something special for President Obama’s suits. So we developed a special red, white, and blue hand stitching that we use exclusively on the interior linings of his jackets.
Three months after we delivered President Obama’s first suits, one of his aides contacted us and said “the boss” loved them so much he wanted us to return to the White House for another order. The president “wears your suits during his special occasions,” the aide told us, including a visit to Buckingham Palace.
In March 2012, the White House said the president needed four more suits “right away.” President Obama looks great in any color but prefers charcoal gray and navy blue. So we rushed him two of each and shipped them in advance of the White House fitting.
When Jay and our head tailor, Joseph Genuardi, made our company’s sixth visit to the Obama White House in February 2014, they encountered a new influence on presidential fashion—the first daughters, Malia and Sasha. “My girls tease me about my suit pants,” the president explained. “They say my pleats make me look old and uncool.”
“Why don’t we make an extra pair of pants in the same fabric for each suit,” said Jay. “Only we’ll make them flat-front to give them a modern look.”
“Let’s do that. Then maybe Malia and Sasha will lay off from making fun of me,” joked the president.
President Obama said he also needed a sport jacket. “There are several varieties of sport jackets, Mr. President. Do you have a particular preference?” asked Jay.
The president shot us a slightly perplexed look. “I really don’t. I’m not sure how to pick the right thing for something like that,” he said.
“Any chance the first lady might help you pick one?” Jay asked.
“Well, Michelle never gets involved with my fashion business,” he said with a smile.
“Wow, that might be your biggest accomplishment yet. I dress a lot of people and no one accomplishes that!” Jay joked.
In addition to the presidents I’ve dressed, I’ve had the privilege of dressing men who might have been president. One such man is my dear friend, former secretary of state Colin Powell. One of his cousins, also a friend of mine, introduced us around the time of the First Gulf War. We first met at a gathering at the Waldorf Astoria when General Powell visited for a parade. “My cousin tells me you’re the best tailor in America,” said the general. “When I retire, I’ll be wearing civilian clothes. I’d be honored if you’d put me in my next uniform.”
His first visit to my factory in Brooklyn was deeply emotional. I walked him through all three floors of the building, explaining each station. When we got to the rows of seamstresses doing needlework by hand, General Powell stopped and stared at an older female worker with tears in his eyes. “Martin, I know this work v
ery well,” he said. “I grew up in the South Bronx. When my mother came to this country from Jamaica, she worked long, hard days as a seamstress in the garment district.”
That moment was the start of a sweet and special relationship that continues to this day. Secretary Powell is much more than a client. I consider him a trusted friend. I’ve dined at his home. And while I know the White House chefs are some of the best in the world, Secretary Powell’s wife, Alma, surely gives them a run for their money.
He’s also one of the few Gentiles I know who speaks Yiddish. As a boy, he worked at a toy store owned by a Russian Jewish immigrant. There he picked up several Yiddish sayings, which he loves to use with me. When my name pops up in the press, or on my birthday, a call from Secretary Powell is soon to follow. “Mazel tov!” he’ll say, before spending time he doesn’t have with me on the phone. He has called me his “mentor.” And while I may have taught him a thing or two about the art of dressing, he’s taught me volumes about the true meaning of friendship.
He’s also been a great referrer of clients. Many of my political clients came to me through my trunk shows at Brooks Brothers in Washington, DC. The events became a magnet for politicos. Every time I came to town, politicians from both parties flocked to the store in a rare display of Beltway bipartisanship. That’s what happened with former secretary of defense Donald Rumsfeld—sort of. Secretary Powell told Secretary Rumsfeld he should attend one of my upcoming Brooks Brothers trunk shows and get measured.
“I already wear Brooks Brothers,” said Rumsfeld.
“You wear off-the-rack Brooks Brothers. You need to move up to a true custom-made suit by America’s greatest tailor,” Powell told him.
Rumsfeld called me to set an appointment. “I can’t come during the daytime business hours,” said Rumsfeld, “because I actually work all day!”
“Ha! I see.”
“So you have to either wait for me until evening hours, or we can do it on Saturday when I’m not here working.”
Secretary Rumsfeld brought his wife, Joyce, into the shop for his Saturday fitting. “Are you going to make me look like you?” he said, looking at my three-piece suit. “If so, I’m buying.” The Rumsfelds were true fiscal conservatives. They refused to ever charge a purchase to a credit card and always paid in cash, which the store appreciated.
Secretary Rumsfeld said he and his wife loved his suit. I knew he was telling the truth, because he came back and purchased more. The secret to selling an important man more suits is to please his wife. Once she sees her husband resplendent in his suit, he’s a buyer for life. Or, for the life of the marriage at least. In the Rumsfelds’ case, that has worked out. They’ve been married since 1954.
Another military man with a great marriage who became a client is Senator Bob Dole, whom I first met when he came for a fitting at one of my DC Brooks Brothers trunk shows. The company is an American institution with a great history. If the brand was good enough for the likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald, it’s good enough for any American male.
I always enjoyed and respected Senator Dole. As a soldier in World War II, Dole was hit in Italy by Nazi machine gun fire that ripped through his back and right arm. He received two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star for valor. Despite his miraculous recovery, his right hand was permanently immobilized. Senator Dole reminded me of all those American boys who voyaged across the ocean to fight for the freedom of me and millions more they didn’t know. Every time I saw him, I thanked him for his service and told him how grateful I was for his sacrifice. Without men like him, I would have been killed in the camps and never been given the opportunity to live the American dream.
“It was an honor to serve,” said Senator Dole humbly. “Privilege of a lifetime.” A man like that deserved a great suit. I saw to it that he got one. In addition to precision measurements, I wanted to do something special for Senator Dole’s jacket closure to make it easier on him when buttoning his jacket. So I altered his button stance and created a hidden loop that made it easier to fasten his jacket.
Senator Dole’s wife, Liddy, who became a U.S. senator in her own right, called me to tell me how much she loved her husband’s suit. “Martin, I’d love for you to make Bob another suit,” she said.
“It would be my honor.”
“I want to give it to him as a gift and make it a surprise,” she told me. “Would he need to be measured again?”
“Not at all. I’ve got his measurements on file. Unless you’ve fattened him up, we should be good to go.”
Later, I saw Senator Dole wearing the suit at an event for the World War II Memorial he did so much to make a reality. I felt proud to see him looking so great while doing so much good.
Convincing political clients to make the leap to made-to-measure elegance was not always so easy, however. Before he became vice president of the United States, then-senator Joe Biden rode the train back and forth from Washington to his home state of Delaware. We bumped into each other frequently and sat together on many a train trip. He’s a loud, funny guy. After a few train rides together, I finally got up the nerve to tell Senator Biden the truth. “Senator, I think it’s time you let me fix you up with a decent suit.”
“What are you trying to say, Martin? What’s wrong with the suit I’ve got on?”
“Well, honestly, it’s not that great. Besides, it’s time we get you to change from a double-breasted jacket to a single-breasted suit.”
“But you don’t sell to Democrats! You only dress Republicans!”
“What planet are you living on? I’m an independent suit maker. I dress many Democrats.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“I make suits for anyone who has the money to buy them from me.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that’s why I’ve never heard of Democrats buying from you. Rich Republicans are the only ones who can afford you.”
“I dress Bob Strauss,” I said, referring to the former head of the Democrat Party.
“Yeah, well, Bob can afford it.”
“I make suits for all the Democrats in Hollywood, too.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t have that kind of cash.”
When Biden became vice president, he called Brooks Brothers and said he needed his suit lapels altered and wanted me to fix him up. “Send it over to me,” I told them. “I’ll take care of the lapel problem and make sure the whole thing is done right.”
To Biden’s credit, he finally ordered a Brooks Brothers suit, but it was stock. The vice president had me alter it to make it fit right. It wasn’t as good as a genuine made-to-measure, but it was better than off-the-rack.
New York City is famous as the capital of the financial world, but it’s also the capital of the fashion world. And few men understood the importance of supporting our industry as well as the former mayor of New York Michael Bloomberg. People always talk about Mayor Bloomberg’s wealth and success in business. But to me, the most remarkable thing about him is the way he listens and truly cares. And not in that phony, political way so many politicians do. He really listens to what people say.
I saw that side of the mayor during the first of many fittings at my factory in Brooklyn. For nearly an hour, America’s eleventh-richest person sat and asked me questions about my time in the concentration camps, listened compassionately as I struggled to speak about losing my family, and even wiped a tear or two from his eyes.
He has my respect.
He also has my suits—lots of them. As the mayor told the New York Daily News, he buys all his suits from us. “Every suit,” he said. “And they’re cheaper than Paul Stewart, where I used to get my clothing.” What can I say? The man knows what he’s talking about. You don’t get to be a billionaire without knowing value when you see it. Just ask another of our billionaire friends, the one and only Donald Trump. Working with Mr. Trump has always been an honor. His larger-than-life style and brilliant business savvy have been a blessing to New York City, creating thousands of jobs. He’s a wonderful guy—and a t
errific father who understands that life’s greatest investment is in one’s children.
Everyone knows who Michael Bloomberg and Donald Trump are. But sometimes I’ve dressed power players without even realizing it. Once, while I was doing a Brooks Brothers trunk show in Washington, DC, a man in a wheelchair rolled in and said he wanted me to make him some suits.
“What do you do for a living?” I asked.
“I’m a lawyer.”
“Great. What kind of suits are you looking to buy?”
“Well, I may have some television appearances here in the near future and want to look my best. You come highly recommended, so I was hoping you could fix me up.”
“Let me ask you a personal question: Do you always stay in your wheelchair?”
“I’m always in it, unfortunately.”
“Not a problem. Not a problem. It’s just important for me to know so I can measure and fit you properly.”
I made sure to pay careful attention to the drape of his jacket. I wanted to make sure his jacket buttoned flat while sitting to give him a crisp, clean look on camera. “How many suits are we looking to create?” I asked.
“Six.”
“Six? Wow, you must really be expecting some serious TV time,” I joked, trying to coax him to volunteer more details. He chuckled but said nothing.
Several weeks later, I went home after work and heard a voice I recognized coming from the television in the kitchen, where Arlene was making dinner.
“Arlene,” I said, “what are you watching?”
“President Clinton’s impeachment trial,” she said. I rounded the kitchen corner. There, on the television, was my client sitting in his wheelchair. He was Charles Ruff, President Clinton’s chief attorney.
“That my client!” I said.
“Your client is President Clinton’s lawyer?” asked Arlene.
“That’s the one.”
“Well, I must say, he does look sharp in that suit.”
Measure of a Man Page 16