. . . Paris of the Americas, Queen City of the South. In August, I'm to have my first opportunity to explore this sprawling megalopolis as a tourist. I've previously sampled different Argentine cuisines, walked the broad Avenida Nueve de Julio, seen the tomb of San Martin; and I expect to spend more than one evening at the Teatro Colón or the Jockey Club.
Have fellow Loungers memories of particularly enjoyable sights, shops, or restaurants? Or of interesting wintertime events? Or (most importantly, of course) knowledge of outstanding tailors, shirtmakers, shoemakers, or other craftsmen?
I'll try to post a detailled account upon my return in September. 'Til then, my thanks for any information shared.
Buenos Aires
Last edited by RWS on Fri Oct 07, 2005 5:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[In the near future I shall add text and photographs to the following, fellow Loungers, but I hasten to post this much before memory fades.]
After an eleven-hour flight from the States, I landed at Ezeiza (the name of the suburb in which the international airport for Buenos Aires is located) early on a beautiful, crisp morning in late July. I didn't reverse the ride until the beginning of September, and so enjoyed more than a month of business mixed with delight in the most cosmopolitan city of the southern hemisphere.
Founded at the edge of the Spanish empire in the sixteenth century, the City of the Most Holy Trinity and Port of Saint Mary of the Good Air remained modest in size until the nineteenth century brought massive immigration of landless peasants and others (most, from southern Italy and from Spain; but some from as far afield as Wales, Poland, and the United States) to this principal port of a new nation with rising wealth (chiefly from agricultural exports). By the turn of that century into the twentieth, Argentina had become one of the richest countries on earth; and its capital, Buenos Aires, was its showcase, with handsome mansions and public buildings constructed in the finest neoclassical, Beaux Arts, and, later, Art Nouveau styles, set amidst verdant parks and broad avenues.
The nearly worldwide economic depression that followed the First World War hurt Argentina as well. Before the middle of the last century, a restricted democracy and laissez-faire economics had given way to national socialist oligarchy, with liberal government returning only in 1983. The popular presidency of Carlos Menem created prosperity through an artificial parity of the peso with the United States dollar; and the inevitable decoupling at the start of this century severely shook the Argentine economy, which is only now beginning to recover.
Throughout all the economic shocks and exhilaration, military coups and workers' strikes, Buenos Aires has remained vibrant and varied, one of the most sophisticated cities in the world with its refined neighborhoods of Retiro and Recoleta, rough La Boca, energetic "La City", and dozens of other distinctive districts, both within the Capital Federal (the heart of greater Buenos Aires, administratively set apart from the province of the same name) and in the surrounding suburbs, which together constitute an urban area of perhaps twelve or thirteen millions, mostly of European descent but with rapidly increasing numbers from the third world. These men and women work, study, and live in a vast metropolis spread out over a broad section of the famous, flat pampas (prairie), for few buildings rise higher than fourteen or fifteen stories in this humanely-scaled city.
See, Shop, Eat, Sleep
Buenos Aires may be likened to a poor man's Paris, with a seeming infinity of pleasing sights, varied shopping, fine dining, and good hotels; a congenial and helpful population; good climate (though the antipodal summer, especially January and February, is to be avoided for its oppressive heat and humidity); and affordability -- about half what one might expect to pay in the EU or US (somewhat less for food, labor, and domestic products; considerably more for imported goods).
What to see? Where to start! One may see a different play or hear a different concert every day of the month and still have theaters unvisited. The greatest theater is, of course, the Teatro Colón ("Columbus Theater"): massive and brilliant, it dominates its stretch of the Avenida Nueve de Julio; inside, a huge rendition of La Scala furnishes nearly perfect acoustic and visual lines for each of an audience of three thousand; the stunning performance of Prokofiev's ballet "Romeo y Julieta" -- by the resident company! -- was one of the highlights of my weeks in the city. But drama and comedy at the nearby Teatro Cervantes, or any of scores of other stages in a city now experiencing great artistic fervor, is not to be missed, either.
The galleries of art, most notably the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes and the new MALBA (Buenos Aires' Museum of Latin American Art), are excellent, if a bit small by standards of the northern hemisphere. Historical museums, not so numerous, are weaker but usually interesting. Parks, zoo, arboretum, and private gardens all are attractive, as are many of the ubiquitous statues and other monuments (which often lack any identifying plaques, as the poor or the unscrupulous have taken much of the bronze that may be pried from its mountings to sell to scrap-metal dealers). The cemetery of Recoleta (beside the charming, and high-society, Church of Our Lady of Pilar) contains acres of tightly-packed mausolea that form an outdoor museum of two centuries of architectural and artistic history (on the Sunday afternoon that I wandered the many lanes, fewer of my fellow visitors were interested in the tombs of past presidents or generals or inventors than in that of a short-lived woman who died two generations ago: "Perdóname, señor: ¿dónde está la tumba de Evita?").
Shopping? Ah, yes. As wide a variety as one might wish, from international chains to local shops, in shopping malls (Galerías Pacífico, at Florida and Córdoba, is worth seeing just for its architecture and decoration -- not for its worldclass prices!) and on seemingly every street in the city. Some of the most interesting sections may be found on Calle Florida, from Sarmiento to Alvear (along which the street is largely closed to motorized traffic), and on Avenida Santa Fe. These stretches include many of the costliest shops, but the variety of clothing, jewellery, handicrafts, books, and just about everything else makes windowshopping, at least, worthwhile.
After all that walking -- or travelling by subway or 'bus -- the visitor doubtless will be hungry. He can enjoy any of the four standard Argentine meals (breakfast, luncheon, late-afternoon tea, and supper -- this last, generally at about ten o'clock) in a wide selection of restaurants serving traditional Argentine or Spanish cuisine, Italian, French, German, Chinese, Japanese, or North American cookery -- to name only those few I remember. A tasty luncheon in a clean but simple cafe might cost the equivalent of US $3 with a thoughtful ten-percent tip; an elaborate supper for four, with an excellent domestic red wine, in the swank neighborhood of Las Cañitas might cost as little as US $80.
Tired and muddle-headed, our visitor seeks rest. He may find it in the highly refined Four Seasons hotel, a Marriott, or, best of all, the incomparable Alvear Palace Hotel. Less princely in price, but clean, safe, and well-located are many stately hotels on and about the Avenida de Mayo, which runs from the Casa Rosada (the Pink House holds the offices, but not the residence, of the president of the Republic) to the copper-domed Palacio del Congreso, though it might be helpful if the visitor speaks Spanish (deliberately without a Porteño accent, so that he's not answered in Lunfardo, the strange slang of the city).
The Clothing
Argentines take pride in dressing well. Photographs of decades past show many men and women whose tastes the Lounge would doubtless approve. Today, of course, appearances have coarsened.
Argentine women are beautiful and charming. The mixture of bloods results in a great variety of appearances, but most younger women of the middle and upper classes tend to be tall for Latin Americans, slender, and fair-skinned, with the full palette of eye and hair colors (darker predominating, of course, as most are descended from Spanish settlers or Italian immigrants). Regrettably, rich diets, frequent smoking, too much sun and too little exercise generally mean that the beauty of youth is sooner lost than it is in some less-favored lands. But, despite growing numbers of blue-jean wearers, Porteño women continue to dress well (sometimes stunningly) at each stage of life.
Argentine men may not be so attractive physically as their sisters, though one may occasionally see an older man who would have looked at home in the noble Quixote's Castille. Young men generally don universal student dress (blue jeans, sportcoat); manual workers wear laborers' clothes (jeans, shirts); but office and professional workers are seldom seen without coat and tie. Most common among these last are a dark suit, a white or pale-colored shirt, and a dark cravat (ascots are amazingly popular among older, affluent men, who may often be seen with sportcoat and dog on the streets of the quieter residential neighborhoods; excepting waiters, I saw but two or three bowtie-wearers, and one was in black-tie, befuddledly wandering the streets of Retiro late one Sunday morning). The quality of the clothing, regrettably, is not usually high: not the misshapen sacks of the third-world Orient, but not the elegance of Savile Row or (I suppose) Naples, either. This may arise from the very real concern that a too-obvious display of wealth can endanger the wearer: kidnapping for ransom continues to be more frequent than might be imagined in a city that generally is much safer than either New York or San Francisco.
But Buenos Aires deserves its reputation as the most glamorous of Latin American cities, the trend-setter for fashion for every state south of the Rio Grande. Rich and powerful men from each of these countries visit Buenos Aires for fine clothing, even if tailors are no longer so numerous as dressmakers. Where do these men go for suits, shirts, and shoes?
On my fourth day in town, I set out to discover the answers with a visit to the shop that I had heard was the finest tailor's house on the continent,
Sastrería ("Tailor's shop") Cheverny,
at Cerrito 1366 (telephone, 54-11-4811-4724), in the cool, quiet northern districts (first populated by rich Argentines as they fled the boggier, crowded, older districts in the 1870s and '80s). Just a stone's throw from the noisy, diesel-fume-ridden "Ninth of July Avenue" (at fourteen lanes, said to be the broadest on earth), Cheverny is a world apart. The visitor first sees the magnificent Brazilian embassy, occupying the palacio built a century ago for the Pereda family; Plaza Carlos Pellegrini (how did I wind up in Faubourg St. Germain?); or the solitary beauty of the French embassy, in another "palace", nearly across from which is the more modest but no less elegant Cheverny.
I entered the shop (a carpetted hush divided by a low counter piled with bolts of English and Italian wools, fitting rooms to one side, a colorful picture of a French Renaissance chateau high on one wall) expecting to meet Señor Cheverny. But there is no Sr. Cheverny.
Greeting me instead was José Marturano, a grave and diminutive man in his late sixties. It was he who founded the house about 1977, naming it for the very chateau depicted in the framed photograph. Trained in the tailor's craft from boyhood in his native southern Italy (this foreigner found Sr. Marturano's accented Spanish very easy to understand; and he, in turn, was more than patient with my own non-specialist Spanish), Sr. Marturano still cuts all clothes made by his house (he employs several men and women to sew in the workroom above the shop). Although Cheverny doubtless can furnish whatever the customer desires, the house is renowned for a formal, Italianate style, much desired by powerful politicians such as Carlos Menem (I was told that Cheverny had dressed former American president Ronald Reagan, too).
From the variety of cloths stocked, I chose a plainweave, mid-gray, summerweight English wool. Sr. Marturano measured me that very day -- and the suit I was wearing. I was able to return on the morrow both to pay the entire cost of cloth and hechura (the "making"; the Porteño custom after a relationship between tailor and client has been established is to pay the entire sum only upon completion of the work) and, amazingly, to have my first fitting: the shell of the coat had been cut and sewn so precisely that no adjustment seemed necessary.
Six days later, I returned for a second prueba ("fitting"), this time of a pair of trousers and of a coat completed but for its sleeves. In two more days, after a final prueba, I received the completed ambo ("two-piece suit"): three-buttoned and short-collared, with small armscyes, just as I had specified.
At that final meeting, I photographed Sr. Marturano, his shop, and his cutting room (just off the employees' workroom above the shop). (You may, dear reader, thank Michael Alden for these photographs, for I doubt that I would have asked to take pictures had not he encouraged me in this.) I also pressed the owner of Cheverny for suggestions regarding other Porteño tailors of comparable quality. After much hesitation (many tailors work out of little workrooms high in the office buildings of downtown Buenos Aires, he told me, and he could really neither recommend any nor recall their names), Sr. Marturano at length suggested
Carbone hnos. ("Carbone Bros."),
at Veinticinco de Mayo 382 (telephone, 54-11-4328-7174), deep in the heart of "La City", the financial district that really does have something of the air of the City of London about it. Founded before 1870 (as the current owner told me goodnaturedly, the date of 1886 on the shop window "es una mentira"!), the shop moved some years ago and is now opposite the Bolsa de Comercio ("stock exchange").
As one might expect from the location, the clientele of Carbone are drawn largely from the successful business and professional classes. The interior of the shop, suggestive of a men's club with wooden panelling and mounted antlers, is notable for the raised platform on which Pascual Curtosi cuts cloth in plain view of passersby (it was this sight, while I was in vain search of the apparently non-existent reciprocal of my club a few days earlier, that first drew me into the shop). Sr. Curtosi, as Sr. Marturano of Cheverny, is in his late sixties and began his training as a boy in Italy; but his preferred style is a bit more British in cut, and the work is sewn by outworkers.
From a swatch book at Carbone (Lesser's, if I remember correctly), I chose a heavy, dark-blue flannel worsted. Because of a delay in shipment from the distributor (many woollen merchants have their storefronts in the streets between Carbone and Cheverny; I visited one of the largest, whose managing director told me that few self-respecting Argentine gentlemen would wear Argentine woollens -- generally found only in mixes with synthetic fibers -- despite the hardiness of Patagonian wool, preferring instead English and Italian goods), less time was available than the twenty days that Carbone prefer from measurement to final prueba. Nevertheless, the ambo was completed and I walked out a happy and satisfied client the day before my flight home.
At Carbone, too, both I and the suit I was wearing were measured. Their fittings, too, were of a partially completed coat, then of a coat with one sleeve attached and of trousers, with a final fitting at which nothing was found wanting. Smaller in area than Cheverny, Carbone is at least as attentive; and handsomely-attired José Luis Caneda, who assisted Sr. Curtosi with measurements, was able to answer all my questions regarding the clothing trades in Buenos Aires.
[To be continued.]
After an eleven-hour flight from the States, I landed at Ezeiza (the name of the suburb in which the international airport for Buenos Aires is located) early on a beautiful, crisp morning in late July. I didn't reverse the ride until the beginning of September, and so enjoyed more than a month of business mixed with delight in the most cosmopolitan city of the southern hemisphere.
Founded at the edge of the Spanish empire in the sixteenth century, the City of the Most Holy Trinity and Port of Saint Mary of the Good Air remained modest in size until the nineteenth century brought massive immigration of landless peasants and others (most, from southern Italy and from Spain; but some from as far afield as Wales, Poland, and the United States) to this principal port of a new nation with rising wealth (chiefly from agricultural exports). By the turn of that century into the twentieth, Argentina had become one of the richest countries on earth; and its capital, Buenos Aires, was its showcase, with handsome mansions and public buildings constructed in the finest neoclassical, Beaux Arts, and, later, Art Nouveau styles, set amidst verdant parks and broad avenues.
The nearly worldwide economic depression that followed the First World War hurt Argentina as well. Before the middle of the last century, a restricted democracy and laissez-faire economics had given way to national socialist oligarchy, with liberal government returning only in 1983. The popular presidency of Carlos Menem created prosperity through an artificial parity of the peso with the United States dollar; and the inevitable decoupling at the start of this century severely shook the Argentine economy, which is only now beginning to recover.
Throughout all the economic shocks and exhilaration, military coups and workers' strikes, Buenos Aires has remained vibrant and varied, one of the most sophisticated cities in the world with its refined neighborhoods of Retiro and Recoleta, rough La Boca, energetic "La City", and dozens of other distinctive districts, both within the Capital Federal (the heart of greater Buenos Aires, administratively set apart from the province of the same name) and in the surrounding suburbs, which together constitute an urban area of perhaps twelve or thirteen millions, mostly of European descent but with rapidly increasing numbers from the third world. These men and women work, study, and live in a vast metropolis spread out over a broad section of the famous, flat pampas (prairie), for few buildings rise higher than fourteen or fifteen stories in this humanely-scaled city.
See, Shop, Eat, Sleep
Buenos Aires may be likened to a poor man's Paris, with a seeming infinity of pleasing sights, varied shopping, fine dining, and good hotels; a congenial and helpful population; good climate (though the antipodal summer, especially January and February, is to be avoided for its oppressive heat and humidity); and affordability -- about half what one might expect to pay in the EU or US (somewhat less for food, labor, and domestic products; considerably more for imported goods).
What to see? Where to start! One may see a different play or hear a different concert every day of the month and still have theaters unvisited. The greatest theater is, of course, the Teatro Colón ("Columbus Theater"): massive and brilliant, it dominates its stretch of the Avenida Nueve de Julio; inside, a huge rendition of La Scala furnishes nearly perfect acoustic and visual lines for each of an audience of three thousand; the stunning performance of Prokofiev's ballet "Romeo y Julieta" -- by the resident company! -- was one of the highlights of my weeks in the city. But drama and comedy at the nearby Teatro Cervantes, or any of scores of other stages in a city now experiencing great artistic fervor, is not to be missed, either.
The galleries of art, most notably the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes and the new MALBA (Buenos Aires' Museum of Latin American Art), are excellent, if a bit small by standards of the northern hemisphere. Historical museums, not so numerous, are weaker but usually interesting. Parks, zoo, arboretum, and private gardens all are attractive, as are many of the ubiquitous statues and other monuments (which often lack any identifying plaques, as the poor or the unscrupulous have taken much of the bronze that may be pried from its mountings to sell to scrap-metal dealers). The cemetery of Recoleta (beside the charming, and high-society, Church of Our Lady of Pilar) contains acres of tightly-packed mausolea that form an outdoor museum of two centuries of architectural and artistic history (on the Sunday afternoon that I wandered the many lanes, fewer of my fellow visitors were interested in the tombs of past presidents or generals or inventors than in that of a short-lived woman who died two generations ago: "Perdóname, señor: ¿dónde está la tumba de Evita?").
Shopping? Ah, yes. As wide a variety as one might wish, from international chains to local shops, in shopping malls (Galerías Pacífico, at Florida and Córdoba, is worth seeing just for its architecture and decoration -- not for its worldclass prices!) and on seemingly every street in the city. Some of the most interesting sections may be found on Calle Florida, from Sarmiento to Alvear (along which the street is largely closed to motorized traffic), and on Avenida Santa Fe. These stretches include many of the costliest shops, but the variety of clothing, jewellery, handicrafts, books, and just about everything else makes windowshopping, at least, worthwhile.
After all that walking -- or travelling by subway or 'bus -- the visitor doubtless will be hungry. He can enjoy any of the four standard Argentine meals (breakfast, luncheon, late-afternoon tea, and supper -- this last, generally at about ten o'clock) in a wide selection of restaurants serving traditional Argentine or Spanish cuisine, Italian, French, German, Chinese, Japanese, or North American cookery -- to name only those few I remember. A tasty luncheon in a clean but simple cafe might cost the equivalent of US $3 with a thoughtful ten-percent tip; an elaborate supper for four, with an excellent domestic red wine, in the swank neighborhood of Las Cañitas might cost as little as US $80.
Tired and muddle-headed, our visitor seeks rest. He may find it in the highly refined Four Seasons hotel, a Marriott, or, best of all, the incomparable Alvear Palace Hotel. Less princely in price, but clean, safe, and well-located are many stately hotels on and about the Avenida de Mayo, which runs from the Casa Rosada (the Pink House holds the offices, but not the residence, of the president of the Republic) to the copper-domed Palacio del Congreso, though it might be helpful if the visitor speaks Spanish (deliberately without a Porteño accent, so that he's not answered in Lunfardo, the strange slang of the city).
The Clothing
Argentines take pride in dressing well. Photographs of decades past show many men and women whose tastes the Lounge would doubtless approve. Today, of course, appearances have coarsened.
Argentine women are beautiful and charming. The mixture of bloods results in a great variety of appearances, but most younger women of the middle and upper classes tend to be tall for Latin Americans, slender, and fair-skinned, with the full palette of eye and hair colors (darker predominating, of course, as most are descended from Spanish settlers or Italian immigrants). Regrettably, rich diets, frequent smoking, too much sun and too little exercise generally mean that the beauty of youth is sooner lost than it is in some less-favored lands. But, despite growing numbers of blue-jean wearers, Porteño women continue to dress well (sometimes stunningly) at each stage of life.
Argentine men may not be so attractive physically as their sisters, though one may occasionally see an older man who would have looked at home in the noble Quixote's Castille. Young men generally don universal student dress (blue jeans, sportcoat); manual workers wear laborers' clothes (jeans, shirts); but office and professional workers are seldom seen without coat and tie. Most common among these last are a dark suit, a white or pale-colored shirt, and a dark cravat (ascots are amazingly popular among older, affluent men, who may often be seen with sportcoat and dog on the streets of the quieter residential neighborhoods; excepting waiters, I saw but two or three bowtie-wearers, and one was in black-tie, befuddledly wandering the streets of Retiro late one Sunday morning). The quality of the clothing, regrettably, is not usually high: not the misshapen sacks of the third-world Orient, but not the elegance of Savile Row or (I suppose) Naples, either. This may arise from the very real concern that a too-obvious display of wealth can endanger the wearer: kidnapping for ransom continues to be more frequent than might be imagined in a city that generally is much safer than either New York or San Francisco.
But Buenos Aires deserves its reputation as the most glamorous of Latin American cities, the trend-setter for fashion for every state south of the Rio Grande. Rich and powerful men from each of these countries visit Buenos Aires for fine clothing, even if tailors are no longer so numerous as dressmakers. Where do these men go for suits, shirts, and shoes?
On my fourth day in town, I set out to discover the answers with a visit to the shop that I had heard was the finest tailor's house on the continent,
Sastrería ("Tailor's shop") Cheverny,
at Cerrito 1366 (telephone, 54-11-4811-4724), in the cool, quiet northern districts (first populated by rich Argentines as they fled the boggier, crowded, older districts in the 1870s and '80s). Just a stone's throw from the noisy, diesel-fume-ridden "Ninth of July Avenue" (at fourteen lanes, said to be the broadest on earth), Cheverny is a world apart. The visitor first sees the magnificent Brazilian embassy, occupying the palacio built a century ago for the Pereda family; Plaza Carlos Pellegrini (how did I wind up in Faubourg St. Germain?); or the solitary beauty of the French embassy, in another "palace", nearly across from which is the more modest but no less elegant Cheverny.
I entered the shop (a carpetted hush divided by a low counter piled with bolts of English and Italian wools, fitting rooms to one side, a colorful picture of a French Renaissance chateau high on one wall) expecting to meet Señor Cheverny. But there is no Sr. Cheverny.
Greeting me instead was José Marturano, a grave and diminutive man in his late sixties. It was he who founded the house about 1977, naming it for the very chateau depicted in the framed photograph. Trained in the tailor's craft from boyhood in his native southern Italy (this foreigner found Sr. Marturano's accented Spanish very easy to understand; and he, in turn, was more than patient with my own non-specialist Spanish), Sr. Marturano still cuts all clothes made by his house (he employs several men and women to sew in the workroom above the shop). Although Cheverny doubtless can furnish whatever the customer desires, the house is renowned for a formal, Italianate style, much desired by powerful politicians such as Carlos Menem (I was told that Cheverny had dressed former American president Ronald Reagan, too).
From the variety of cloths stocked, I chose a plainweave, mid-gray, summerweight English wool. Sr. Marturano measured me that very day -- and the suit I was wearing. I was able to return on the morrow both to pay the entire cost of cloth and hechura (the "making"; the Porteño custom after a relationship between tailor and client has been established is to pay the entire sum only upon completion of the work) and, amazingly, to have my first fitting: the shell of the coat had been cut and sewn so precisely that no adjustment seemed necessary.
Six days later, I returned for a second prueba ("fitting"), this time of a pair of trousers and of a coat completed but for its sleeves. In two more days, after a final prueba, I received the completed ambo ("two-piece suit"): three-buttoned and short-collared, with small armscyes, just as I had specified.
At that final meeting, I photographed Sr. Marturano, his shop, and his cutting room (just off the employees' workroom above the shop). (You may, dear reader, thank Michael Alden for these photographs, for I doubt that I would have asked to take pictures had not he encouraged me in this.) I also pressed the owner of Cheverny for suggestions regarding other Porteño tailors of comparable quality. After much hesitation (many tailors work out of little workrooms high in the office buildings of downtown Buenos Aires, he told me, and he could really neither recommend any nor recall their names), Sr. Marturano at length suggested
Carbone hnos. ("Carbone Bros."),
at Veinticinco de Mayo 382 (telephone, 54-11-4328-7174), deep in the heart of "La City", the financial district that really does have something of the air of the City of London about it. Founded before 1870 (as the current owner told me goodnaturedly, the date of 1886 on the shop window "es una mentira"!), the shop moved some years ago and is now opposite the Bolsa de Comercio ("stock exchange").
As one might expect from the location, the clientele of Carbone are drawn largely from the successful business and professional classes. The interior of the shop, suggestive of a men's club with wooden panelling and mounted antlers, is notable for the raised platform on which Pascual Curtosi cuts cloth in plain view of passersby (it was this sight, while I was in vain search of the apparently non-existent reciprocal of my club a few days earlier, that first drew me into the shop). Sr. Curtosi, as Sr. Marturano of Cheverny, is in his late sixties and began his training as a boy in Italy; but his preferred style is a bit more British in cut, and the work is sewn by outworkers.
From a swatch book at Carbone (Lesser's, if I remember correctly), I chose a heavy, dark-blue flannel worsted. Because of a delay in shipment from the distributor (many woollen merchants have their storefronts in the streets between Carbone and Cheverny; I visited one of the largest, whose managing director told me that few self-respecting Argentine gentlemen would wear Argentine woollens -- generally found only in mixes with synthetic fibers -- despite the hardiness of Patagonian wool, preferring instead English and Italian goods), less time was available than the twenty days that Carbone prefer from measurement to final prueba. Nevertheless, the ambo was completed and I walked out a happy and satisfied client the day before my flight home.
At Carbone, too, both I and the suit I was wearing were measured. Their fittings, too, were of a partially completed coat, then of a coat with one sleeve attached and of trousers, with a final fitting at which nothing was found wanting. Smaller in area than Cheverny, Carbone is at least as attentive; and handsomely-attired José Luis Caneda, who assisted Sr. Curtosi with measurements, was able to answer all my questions regarding the clothing trades in Buenos Aires.
[To be continued.]
Last edited by RWS on Thu Nov 30, 2006 2:00 pm, edited 11 times in total.
A wonderful report on a city that I am especially keen to visit. I look forward to reading the next installment.
One of the questions I asked Sr. Caneda of Carbone Hermanos was whom in Buenos Aires he would suggest as tailors of comparable quality to Carbone. He mentioned
George, in the 1800 block of Avenida Alvear, directly across from the Alvear Palace Hotel; I passed the very attractive shop window but lacked the time to go in (I did have a few commitments in Bs. As. beyond commissioning two suits!); and
Gomez Sastrería, at Paraguay 824; regrettably, I lacked the time even to pass this shop.
An article in the issue of Noticias de la Semana for June 11, 2005, treats of "Los reyes del corte" (if any Lounger doesn't catch this broad pun, he may send me a private message!). Both Cheverny and Carbone are covered in some detail, and Ana Peré Vignau writes approvingly of two other tailors in Buenos Aires as well:
Natalio Argento, in Calle Esmeralda;
Tito Samelnik, in Matices, who makes for highly visible athletes and performers.
Sra. Vignau notes that the grand old house of Giesso, favored by the great men of the Argentine past, "converted forty years ago to a readymade-suit store, with eleven locations" ("'It was a worldwide movement', explains Ana María Giesso, vice-president of the business, 'And we were growing and increasing. Earlier, readymade clothing wasn't good, today it does have [fine] quality.'").
The magazine states that readymade men's suits of excellent quality may be had for the equivalent of US $300 to $450, while custommade suits cost between US $600 and $1,200. Both Cheverny and Carbone, with nearly identical pricing of their workmanship, are at the top of that range.
Camiserías ("Shirtmakers' shops")
Both Cheverny and Carbone can make shirts to measure and, doubtless, furnish as fine a product as they tailor from wool; Carbone emphasize their line of Smith's cloths, and that their shirts are entirely handmade (though Sr. Caneda candidly stated that this is partly because their customers expect handwork, regardless of the benefits of some machine stitching).
Sr. Marturano also suggested a shirtmaker in the 800 block of Marcelo T. de Alvear. I went up and down both sides of that stretch of the street but could not find the shop.
Sr. Caneda suggested Sir Greytton (yes, that really is the name of the firm) at Avenida Santa Fe 1825. I looked at the windows hours before I flew home: attractive, with a variety of other garments, and seemingly very well made.
Zapaterías ("Shoemakers' shops")
As T4phage and other Loungers have pointed out, Argentine leather is prized on the world markets. One would expect, therefore, that this comparatively affluent city of many millions of inhabitants would number more than a few fine shoemakers among them.
But, sadly, one would be mistaken. Although a few lines of handmade men's shoes of domestic production may be seen, all but one appear to use "corrected" leathers; and Argentine friends warned me that the shoes simply do not stand up well. I was disappointed twice: Lopez Taibo, in Avenida Corrientes and elsewhere, displayed good-looking shoes in their shopwindows that upon closer inspection were not to this Lounger's taste in materials or construction; and the best leather-goods shop that I found, Rossi y Caruso in Avenida Sta. Fe, no longer makes shoes (though its riding boots are very nice and quite expensive).
Surely, then, some out-of-the-way shoemaker turns out masterpieces from his tiny workshop, I thought. I asked both Sr. Marturano of Cheverny and Sr. Caneda of Carbone whom each would recommend as a fine custom bootmaker: no one. Sr. Caneda explained that the best or most suitable hides and leathers are exported, and that the skills of the bootmaker's craft are regrettably lacking in Argentina.
So, I asked Sr. Caneda, where do the best-dressed Argentine men buy their shoes? In Italy! Both ready-to-wear makes and various bespoke houses, it seems, supply South American needs. (I must add that in my attempt to answer T4phage's question more fully I found myself looking at feet rather more than I've ever done before; and a very few -- doubtless exotic by Argentine norms -- seemed to have been shod by Alden or Cleverly.)
[To be continued.]
George, in the 1800 block of Avenida Alvear, directly across from the Alvear Palace Hotel; I passed the very attractive shop window but lacked the time to go in (I did have a few commitments in Bs. As. beyond commissioning two suits!); and
Gomez Sastrería, at Paraguay 824; regrettably, I lacked the time even to pass this shop.
An article in the issue of Noticias de la Semana for June 11, 2005, treats of "Los reyes del corte" (if any Lounger doesn't catch this broad pun, he may send me a private message!). Both Cheverny and Carbone are covered in some detail, and Ana Peré Vignau writes approvingly of two other tailors in Buenos Aires as well:
Natalio Argento, in Calle Esmeralda;
Tito Samelnik, in Matices, who makes for highly visible athletes and performers.
Sra. Vignau notes that the grand old house of Giesso, favored by the great men of the Argentine past, "converted forty years ago to a readymade-suit store, with eleven locations" ("'It was a worldwide movement', explains Ana María Giesso, vice-president of the business, 'And we were growing and increasing. Earlier, readymade clothing wasn't good, today it does have [fine] quality.'").
The magazine states that readymade men's suits of excellent quality may be had for the equivalent of US $300 to $450, while custommade suits cost between US $600 and $1,200. Both Cheverny and Carbone, with nearly identical pricing of their workmanship, are at the top of that range.
Camiserías ("Shirtmakers' shops")
Both Cheverny and Carbone can make shirts to measure and, doubtless, furnish as fine a product as they tailor from wool; Carbone emphasize their line of Smith's cloths, and that their shirts are entirely handmade (though Sr. Caneda candidly stated that this is partly because their customers expect handwork, regardless of the benefits of some machine stitching).
Sr. Marturano also suggested a shirtmaker in the 800 block of Marcelo T. de Alvear. I went up and down both sides of that stretch of the street but could not find the shop.
Sr. Caneda suggested Sir Greytton (yes, that really is the name of the firm) at Avenida Santa Fe 1825. I looked at the windows hours before I flew home: attractive, with a variety of other garments, and seemingly very well made.
Zapaterías ("Shoemakers' shops")
As T4phage and other Loungers have pointed out, Argentine leather is prized on the world markets. One would expect, therefore, that this comparatively affluent city of many millions of inhabitants would number more than a few fine shoemakers among them.
But, sadly, one would be mistaken. Although a few lines of handmade men's shoes of domestic production may be seen, all but one appear to use "corrected" leathers; and Argentine friends warned me that the shoes simply do not stand up well. I was disappointed twice: Lopez Taibo, in Avenida Corrientes and elsewhere, displayed good-looking shoes in their shopwindows that upon closer inspection were not to this Lounger's taste in materials or construction; and the best leather-goods shop that I found, Rossi y Caruso in Avenida Sta. Fe, no longer makes shoes (though its riding boots are very nice and quite expensive).
Surely, then, some out-of-the-way shoemaker turns out masterpieces from his tiny workshop, I thought. I asked both Sr. Marturano of Cheverny and Sr. Caneda of Carbone whom each would recommend as a fine custom bootmaker: no one. Sr. Caneda explained that the best or most suitable hides and leathers are exported, and that the skills of the bootmaker's craft are regrettably lacking in Argentina.
So, I asked Sr. Caneda, where do the best-dressed Argentine men buy their shoes? In Italy! Both ready-to-wear makes and various bespoke houses, it seems, supply South American needs. (I must add that in my attempt to answer T4phage's question more fully I found myself looking at feet rather more than I've ever done before; and a very few -- doubtless exotic by Argentine norms -- seemed to have been shod by Alden or Cleverly.)
[To be continued.]
Last edited by RWS on Sat Oct 08, 2005 1:59 am, edited 1 time in total.
Jonathon Becker, photographer, named Longstaff e Hijo of Buenos Aires as his tailor in a best dressed list in Vanity Fair. Anybody had any experience?
This was really an enjoyable travel essay, RWS, and one I will enjoy rereading several times. I hope to see the results of your commissions some time soon.
Thank you, dopey; I've enjoyed writing the survey and intend to complete it soon. I expect to wear the two suits to the next two gatherings of LL/NY and hope that you and others will critique the suits here.
Forgive my delay in replying, Mr. Maran. I've enquired of friends in the beautiful city. My impression is that the firm, which may have been only a sophisticated made-to-measure operation if it existed at all, is not known to well-dressed, well-to-do Porteños; but I'll try to make a definitive discovery when next I return to the city for an extended visit.S.Maran wrote:. . . Longstaff e Hijo of Buenos Aires . . . . any experience?
Thank you for an excellent city guide. Informative and engaging. Looking forward to visiting.
I have returned to Bs. As. for another winter stay. I have returned to each of the tailors for a shirt (to one for an adjustment as well) and have visited Sir Greytton, too, for a shirt. If I can find a keyboard that responds properly, I shall post a bit more while here; otherwise, and if fellow Loungers would be interested, I would anticipate posting fully after my return to the northern hemisphere.
Well, then, I´ll commence a narrative that must by its nature and the shortness of my time be given in sections.
I returned to Buenos Aires at the very end of last month and will leave this city before the end of next week. Before I returned here, I had determined to have a shirt made by each of the three shirtmakers who are reputed to be the best in this huge city, the firm of Sir Greytton in Avenida Santa Fe and the two leading tailors of Buenos Aires, Cheverny and Carbone Hermanos.
So, on my first full day in town, I visited Sir Greytton. With a shopfront on a very busy street (broad Sta. Fe is one of the most glittering in a city of many, many shopping areas), this haberdasher and maker of custom shirts is well-situtated to draw the broadest cross-section of more affluent men: the prices of its shirts start at $199, about US $65.
Once across the threshhold of the panelled shop, I was shown a wide selection of cotton and linen fabrics from England, Italy, Brazil, and elsewhere. For a first shirt, I chose a reasonably stout, white cotton (a simply-patterned all-linen also attracted me, at 450 Argentine pesos).
I returned to Buenos Aires at the very end of last month and will leave this city before the end of next week. Before I returned here, I had determined to have a shirt made by each of the three shirtmakers who are reputed to be the best in this huge city, the firm of Sir Greytton in Avenida Santa Fe and the two leading tailors of Buenos Aires, Cheverny and Carbone Hermanos.
So, on my first full day in town, I visited Sir Greytton. With a shopfront on a very busy street (broad Sta. Fe is one of the most glittering in a city of many, many shopping areas), this haberdasher and maker of custom shirts is well-situtated to draw the broadest cross-section of more affluent men: the prices of its shirts start at $199, about US $65.
Once across the threshhold of the panelled shop, I was shown a wide selection of cotton and linen fabrics from England, Italy, Brazil, and elsewhere. For a first shirt, I chose a reasonably stout, white cotton (a simply-patterned all-linen also attracted me, at 450 Argentine pesos).
Last edited by RWS on Wed Sep 13, 2006 12:07 am, edited 2 times in total.
I've returned home and, sipping green tea (eleven hours of inhaling the recycled breath of coughers and sneezers has made me quite sick) and listening to Joan Manuel Serrat, will try to continue my tale of three Porteño shirtmakers.
The staff at Sir Greytton measured me and my shirt (I deliberately wore to each shirtmaker's fitting a shirt made by Budd, expecting that this would ensure that the Argentine result would be at least as good as the London maker's) and enquired as to the intended use of the shirt. It, as each of the other two shirts, thus was cut and sewn to be worn with cravat. Additionally, I pointed out the chief problem I have with shirts (and coats, for that matter) -- a buckling of excess fabric at the base of the collar, a result of too erect a posture, I suppose -- my desire to have a collar without ballenitas (collar bones or stays, so called as corset stays, ballenas, originally were made of whalebone), and some minor changes I wanted in the cut of the Budd: a higher collar, a placketless front, and so forth.
Although Sir Greytton often cut and sew without a subsequent fitting, the company was receptive to my request for one. And I'm glad I requested it: when I returned, ten days later, I was shocked to see that the shoulders came nearly so far down my arms as the shoulders of a massmade shirt would; and the body of the shirt was almost as voluminous as an American off-the-rack. A week afterward, though, these problems had been corrected and I left the shop with a decent machine-sewn shirt, the nicest imitation mother-of-pearl buttons I'd yet seen, and (as with each of the other two shirts) a length of cloth sufficient to replace collar and cuffs.
The staff at Sir Greytton measured me and my shirt (I deliberately wore to each shirtmaker's fitting a shirt made by Budd, expecting that this would ensure that the Argentine result would be at least as good as the London maker's) and enquired as to the intended use of the shirt. It, as each of the other two shirts, thus was cut and sewn to be worn with cravat. Additionally, I pointed out the chief problem I have with shirts (and coats, for that matter) -- a buckling of excess fabric at the base of the collar, a result of too erect a posture, I suppose -- my desire to have a collar without ballenitas (collar bones or stays, so called as corset stays, ballenas, originally were made of whalebone), and some minor changes I wanted in the cut of the Budd: a higher collar, a placketless front, and so forth.
Although Sir Greytton often cut and sew without a subsequent fitting, the company was receptive to my request for one. And I'm glad I requested it: when I returned, ten days later, I was shocked to see that the shoulders came nearly so far down my arms as the shoulders of a massmade shirt would; and the body of the shirt was almost as voluminous as an American off-the-rack. A week afterward, though, these problems had been corrected and I left the shop with a decent machine-sewn shirt, the nicest imitation mother-of-pearl buttons I'd yet seen, and (as with each of the other two shirts) a length of cloth sufficient to replace collar and cuffs.
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