The Man Makes The Clothes.

Mr. Greenfield at work in his Brooklyn factory.

Martin Greenfield is an arbiter of more than just phenomenal style; he's the designer's tailor. His work ethic is the stuff American Dreams are made of--he started at Brooklyn's GGG Clothing as an entry-level floor boy in 1947, and by 1977 the Czechoslovakian Holocaust survivor bought out his bosses and renamed the place after himself.

Martin Greenfield Clothiers has been the go-to New York manufacturer for fine, tailored garments for over three decades now. Greenfield pops up now and again--whether in The Times or on a fashion site--as a reminder that he is still the man making the clothes that make the man. His talents are obvious in the area of business, but don't let his head-honcho position fool you. Martin knows how to set the perfect pocket, shape the perfect shoulder, and chalk the perfect seam. His team of seamstresses, patternmakers, and alteration specialists are the best hands in the field and are sought out by big name private clients like Bill Clinton and the late Michael Jackson. Greenfield Clothier's work is impeccable and trusted by everyone from Isaac and Donna, to more contemporary houses like Boy by Band of Outsiders. The Selby recently featured the master tailor in his studio/factory, and captured all of the good Greenfield stuff on still film, just like The Selby always does. Here are some of my favorite shots:

P.S. That video above is about 8 minutes long, but it is phenomenal. I wouldn't miss it if I were you. This post makes me wish I had a need for a tailored suit. I feel an Annie Hall phase coming on...

A Needle Pulling Thread.

Embroidered works by J Carpenter.

Tasty coffee is a pleasure I find hard to top. However, at a recent visit to Dames, the bestest little coffee and espresso bar in Hoboken, I found the art on the walls raising my enjoyment levels to above normal great coffee standards. Around the shop were small, rectangular, canvases featuring silhouettes of female bodies laying, standing, or floating on white backgrounds. From the view on the line to place my order, the pieces looked like drawings rendered in skinny black lines that filled the silhouettes with lace-like patterns or short, scratchy looking scrawls. But, upon closer inspection (with tasty coffee in hand) the canvases were actually pierced and sewn through with thread. The lines were in fact black thread stitches, either in pretty, lacy, flower patterns, or in choppy dashes. I looked close and could see the thread darting in and out of tiny holes in the canvas, surfacing and sinking, coming from under to go over. Something about embroidery is so romantic to me. I think it's the handiwork aspect, knowing that someone invested the time to "draw" something delicate with a tiny needle and a single string of thread. And in this case, that delicate something was one of art's best subjects: the female form. I snapped a couple of photos (above) and asked the barista for contact information. A few emails later I found myself in the live/work space of Jersey City artist J Carpenter.

Artist J Carpenter (note her beautiful 6-string tattoo).

It turns out that J's needle and thread skills are in her blood. Her family emigrated from Sicily and includes a line of seamstresses. J's Grandmother made her living stitching and sewing, and J's fascination with the delicate art of embroidery began there. Eventually tired of simply painting on her canvases, J took a needle to one of her finished pieces and strung it through with thread. From there her work evolved into the silhouettes that I saw on the walls at Dames. The women she stitches are based on photos of the females in her life, including herself. Her mother also makes appearances in her work, showing up as a stitched figure performing household duties, once upon a time known as "women's work": dusting, doing dishes, vaccuuming. The lace pattern filling the sihlouettes is based on a blown-up section of one of her Grandma's old headscarves. The peices are gorgeous little odes to the females in her life. Their focus on the craft of embroidery appeals to my appreciation for fabrication. Her other work appeals to the writer in me.

She Slept, 2007.

Emily Dickinson's poetic take on eternity was J's inspiration for the equally poetic piece above. Repeated in hand stitching, the lines "I went to thank her,/ but she slept" slowly drain like blood across six frames-- from a mess of overlaid repetition, to one single pair of mourning words.

We Must, 2008.

We Must is a white wedding day parasole stitched through again and again with the phrase "we must." It is a protective imperative spelled out over and over. The outside of the umbrella is a messy mess of undersided embroidery. Jagged lines, all choppy and kind of like chaos theory water drops dripping down the sides. J is currently teaching herself to tat lace. She plans on fabricating objects out of her finished product, rendering practical items useless but pretty. Very pretty, in fact, just like the rest of her work.

If you are interested in learning more about J's work, or want to inquire about details and/or price information email J@JCarpenterart.com.

Photos courtesy of the artist.

When Times Get Tough, the Tough Get Sewing

I grew up with a mother who had some serious sewing skills. She made each one of the Halloween costumes in this here photo:

That's me as Rainbow Brite (with a handmade orange yarn wig!), my younger brother Franklin as a tiger cub, my brother Jason as the most phenomenal E.T. with a glowing orange finger, and my sister Tracey the cheerleader. My Mom (that's her behind me) sewed all of those. Looking at this photo kind of revives the theory that I formulated around the time that this pic was taken: My Mom has magic powers.

Unfortunately the sewing gene skipped a generation. For all of my craftiness, I lack a certain finess when it comes to needles and thread. But, my belt is tightening (money not fat!) and sewing is one of those skills that could be very helpful for the bank account. You know, buy a girl a dress and she has an outfit for one night, teach her to sew and she can make fabulous things inexpensively for many nights. Yeah, something like that.

Where to start? With the basics. I was looking for a good intro to sewing class but if I had the $350 they were charging I'd be knee deep in retail racks right now. So instead I created my own sewing curriculum.

I'm going to Sew U! Built by Wendy designer and '90s guitar strap hero Wendy Mullin has penned a how-to book that covers all of the basics of sewing. It even comes with three simple patterns to get me going. I'll supplement the text with video instruction on YouTube. Then I'll graduate to sewing Built by Wendy's more complex patterns. Perhaps my term project will be a winter coat. Or, a cute as anything shirt.

I'll get to pick out my own fabrics and assuming that the garments hold up, I'll be able to pass down some special items to my future bamabinas that won't have Forever 21 labels in them. Also, this will be a great way to spend my time, not my money.

Get yourself a sewing machine, and let's start our own sewing circle. What do you say?

Cheap Thrill: The Easiest Button to Button

Do you need a wardrobe update that won't empty your pockets? Of course you do. Grab your favorite button-closeure clothing item and give it a fresh start, just like this gentleman featured on Face Hunter.

New York is loaded with great button stores that have more toggles, frogs, snaps, and buckles than you could ever need. My personal button haven is M&J Buttons on Sixth Avenue. Pick out your favorites and swap the new for the old.

Don't know how to sew on a button? Here's a little tutorial.