London arrived at exactly the right moment in my life. In 2011, I was 18 months into a job at one…read moreof New York's most powerful investment firms, still stunned that I had been hired, and newly sent abroad between the Park Avenue and Mayfair offices. The uniform was a suit every day, the pressure was relentless, and the opportunity restored my confidence. Living in Kensington and running through Hyde Park felt like a more sophisticated version of study abroad.
Back then, Thrillist was a useful guide to new places. One London dispatch introduced me to Cad & The Dandy, a young Savile Row tailoring house founded by James Sleater. I took the Piccadilly line to Green Park and descended into the company's lower-level workspace. Fabric books, tools, and unfinished garments gave the room the energy of a real atelier.
Savile Row also taught me something about advancement. Its culture depends on apprenticeship and the transfer of trust from experienced craftspeople to those they believe are ready to carry the tradition forward. Talent is judged through close observation, with character and manners considered alongside technical ability. Being chosen by people who understand the craft creates a different authority than advancement based solely on supposedly objective measures.
James embodied the best parts of that culture without absorbing the neighborhood's capacity for stuffiness. He had Mayfair-level acumen with Mancunian approachability, little ego, and a sense of humor that made an intimidating purchase feel relaxed. He studied how I stood, explained lapels and proportions, and guided me through fabrics with confidence rooted in tradition and attention to the person before him. When we reached the shirts, I told him to make me what he wore, including the cutaway collar, because his own clothing was the strongest recommendation in the room.
What arrived several weeks later exceeded my expectations. The suit was flattering and comfortable enough for long days at work, while the shirts were equally good under a jacket or with jeans. James measured with judgment as well as precision, accounting for movement, posture, and how fabric behaves on a real body. Older colleagues joked that the firm must be paying me too much because my suits looked so expensive, one of the best compliments I have received.
Years later, James began visiting New York for trunk shows while building toward a permanent American presence. I ordered more suits, shirts, and a distinctive topcoat, this time using a personal pattern that brought the fit from excellent to nearly perfect. Friends I introduced became loyal clients, and one recently reminded me that the sharp suit he was wearing came from my 2013 introduction. Watching Cad & The Dandy grow into stores in London, New York, and Stockholm, with trunk shows across 3 continents, has been satisfying.
Eventually, the same rarefied, high-pressure financial world that had once made the clothes feel necessary also made me ill and contributed to a serious personal collapse. I later moved into a less formal pocket of the industry, populated more by 27-year-old software engineers than financiers with multigenerational memberships at Annabel's. Medication changes and major weight gain led me to discard clothing that no longer fit, a decision I regret. When my budget allows, I will return for the wardrobe that now feels most natural to me: excellent jeans paired with a Cad & The Dandy shirt and one of their jackets, finished with clean sneakers or loafers, with proper trousers and a tie ready when the occasion requires them.
Ultimately, James gave me clothes that made me feel more composed in a demanding world, and his personality remains visible in everything Cad & The Dandy makes. The clothes are sophisticated without becoming stuffy, English without feeling costume-driven, and traditional without losing their wit. My life has changed since that first walk down Savile Row, but my appreciation for what James built has only grown. Cad & The Dandy remains the tailor I hope to return to for the rest of my life.
