An inside look at the Rubinacci laboratorio

Apologies for the long delay since my last post. What with traveling to Naples and catching up with work after getting back to New York, I’ve been short on time. However, I managed to collect a lot of material on my trip that I hope will make up for it.

Of course, I spent a lot of time at London House. What with fittings for two new suits, hashing out overcoat ideas, and taking advantage of Mariano Rubinacci’s good company, it’s a wonder I got around to going anywhere else. There’s a lot to share, but I’d like to start with an inside look at the new laboratorio (well, new since my last visit in 2008).

The new space occupies the entire second floor above Rubinacci’s London House shop on Via Filangieri. Upon first impression, one cannot help but draw a contrast with the dark, cramped basement workrooms that many Savile Row tailors are confined to. London House is located at the top of Filangieri, where the street turns into Via dei Mille, so the work floor’s numerous floor-to-ceiling windows are well-situated to let in an immense amount of sunlight and fresh, sea-scented air.  

Mariano emphasizes the benefit of such a pleasant environment on worker morale–the tailors joked with me that they avoid venturing into the dark, street-level shop whenever possible. Yet, the practical utility is also immediately obvious: the space by every window is reserved for use by those who need the most light, including seamstresses sewing buttonholes.

The new laboratorio was also necessary to accomodate a broad expansion of the Rubinacci tailoring team. In my conversations with Mariano, he is always straddling the present, with one foot in the past and the other in the future. Even as he stresses the essentiality of preserving the traditions and knowledge of older, more elegant eras, he yearns to extend his family’s legacy beyond his own lifetime. It’s clearly a delicate balancing act.

Today, over 30 tailors work at London House, including trousermakers and shirtmakers. By my rough count, at least half are still in their 20′s. Such numbers bode well for the future, particularly with respect to the patronage of younger clients such as myself. One pays a considerable sum for a Rubinacci suit, so it is of great comfort that the firm is well-positioned to continue providing its services as the decades wear on. After all, as many bespoke clients can attest, the process is a very personal one and the thought of forced change is dismaying. For Mariano, the stakes are also close to the heart. As we walked the floor, he beamed fondly at what he’s created, remarking that he can now retire in good conscience, having properly prepared London House for his son Luca.

As Mariano and I chatted, it dawned on me that I didn’t have to raise my voice over any thrumming, clicking or buzzing. The only sounds one hears are the snipping of shears, interspersed with the occasional stomping and hissing of irons. Essentially every stitch in a Rubinacci jacket is done by hand. In fact, exactly two seams are machine-sewn: the one running down the length of the sleeves and the center seam of the back panel. Even those are hand-finished afterward. Utilizing such time-intensive labor, London House can produce only 1,000 suits per year.

Even as the team has grown larger and younger, it is assuring that age and experience are still privileged. The most difficult and important sewing is around the armhole, attaching the sleeve to the jacket’s body. Thus, the work is designated to the most experienced tailors and completed in a dedicated workroom. 

On the matter of recruiting talent, Mariano is blunt: he keeps his ear to the ground and goes after whoever garners a reputation for doing the best work, wherever the work is being done. He is all too aware that his prices are more than twice what other tailors in Naples charge, so the workmanship in his suits must be the absolute best. Toward that end, he has successfully taken tailors from some of the best competing firms in Naples, as well as from  the larger ready-to-wear/made-to-measure opertions, such as Kiton. In fact, many of the Neapolitan tailors I’ve met have openly admitted that Rubinacci’s quality is top-notch in the city.

Up until a few years ago, Rubinacci outsourced its trousermaking, as remains typical in Naples and amongst tailors elsewhere. Today, all trousers are made in-house by a dedicated trousermaking team. For me, this development turned out to be particularly fortunate.

In keeping with the more casual spirit of my summer suits, I made a last minute request for lapped trouser seams. The head trousermaker executed the change on the spot. Considering I had to catch my flight back to New York the same morning, it would have been impossible if my pants had to be sent crosstown.

Despite the significant expansion in operations, Mariano, Luca, and their four head cutters in Naples continue to take a hands-on approach to managing each individual order. When a client first starts with the firm, he is assigned a head cutter, who is responsible for drawing up and refining his pattern. From thereon, the assigned head cutter works on the garment himself, to whatever degree his time allows, delegating to the rest of the team as necessary. One head cutter might even pitch in for another, in the event of illness or uneven workload. Nonetheless, at the end of the day, your own head cutter is responsible for your order.

Mariano or Luca closely engage the tailors throughout each order’s execution. I was surprised that even an order for a single shirt was not too insignificant for Mariano to discuss in detail with the head shirtmaker. But then, the Mariano/Luca role is fairly unique in the tailoring world. They are neither front-of-the-shop men, nor business managers, nor designers, nor tailors. Rather, they are required to do a good bit of everything. As Mariano puts it, he considers himself an expert on style and the history of Neapolitan men’s dress, with a very good knowledge of tailoring, but depends on his tailors for technical know-how. He tells them what he wants to see; they let him know if it’s possible.

My tour of the laboratorio corresponded with the completion of two summer suits I ordered a month ago, both of which I expected to fly home with the same morning. My head cutter, Gennaro, and a team of five to six other tailors worked heroically through the weekend to get the order done on time.

I was admittedly a little panicked as the clock wound down to my departure time, but mostly I marvelled at the team’s speed and coordination. At any given point in time, there were at least two tailors working on each of my suits. Buttons had to be sorted and attached, holes had to be measured and cut, and hems shortened, lengthened, then shortened again.

With minutes to spare, I was rushed down to the front desk of the shop to fill out VAT forms as my suits were getting packed up. Luca and Mariano hailed a cab as I paid, and I was on my way in moments.

The ride to the airport was terrifying, but then every cab ride in Naples is terrifying. Still, I had my suits in hand, folded neatly into a large black shopping bag. It’s difficult to calculate the impact of my experiences in Naples over the past few years on my appreciation for the products, but I can certainly say that the experiences themselves are worthwhile. I heartily recommend you avail yourselve of similar opportunities–if your tailor is like Rubinacci, you don’t have to be a V.I.P., just a client.

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