I wear the fact that I never have to wear a suit outside of weddings, funerals and the occasional job interview as a badge of professional pride. There’s nothing wrong with suits and nothing wrong with those who wear them, but, apart from a brief and unfortunate fling with a mod life as a teenager in the 1980s when my cool-kid friends wore three-button suits as an act of rebellion, they’ve never been my thing.

Even though I can count the number of times I’ve worn a suit in the past five years on a single hand, I own six of the things (seven if you count my Confirmation suit, which is still knocking about somewhere). It saddens me to think I have probably spent more than €5,000 on them, yet they hang lonely and unloved in a bedroom wardrobe.

What would an expert have to say about my collection? Can they be rescued? Do they have any value? Who else can I ask but Louis Copeland, the most famous tailor in Ireland. I’m pretty sure he’ll be impressed.

Turns out I am pretty wrong.

1

I’ve a soft spot for my sober grey suit from

A-Wear

. It was my first, and you always remember your first. I bought it in 1996, the year I started working as a night-shift drone on the

Irish Times

website.

The suit cost me £79, and for many happy years it was my go-to garb for all funerals and functions. I still remember telling a fancy dan work gathering that I was delighted to be wearing “my suit”, and a senior executive at this paper practically falling off his chair because he was laughing so hard at the notion that an adult male owned just one solitary suit.

Time has not been kind to “my suit”. And Copeland is not kind to me when he sees it. “Not even a charity shop would take that,” he says. “You’re swimming in it. How can a suit you bought nearly 20 years ago be too big for you? Have you shrunk?”

No, Louis, I haven’t shrunk. But I didn’t have a keen eye for sizing in the mid 1990s. And the suit was on sale. And the salesman convinced me I looked dapper in the billowing cloth. And I figured this three-buttoned number that reminded me of my mod days would last a lifetime. I was wrong.

2

Ah,

Armani.

This was my first foray into the world of designer suits. I got it for a song thanks to the spectacular economic collapse in Argentina in 2002. I did not cry for Argentina, I took advantage of it. Suddenly it became an affordable destination for semi-skint European tourists, and so I found myself in Buenos Aires, in a desolate Armani shop where this three-piece suit called to me. It cost €500, but I figured it was an investment that would stand the test of time.

“Oh no, no, no. That might actually be worse than the first one,” Copeland says. “It doesn’t fit you and the style is all wrong. There is no way you could wear that today,” he adds (somewhat harshly, I think). “You might be able to rescue the waistcoat but I’d get rid of the rest of it, were I you.”

3

I bought a

Paul Smith

suit in 2006 and paid full price for it. It was at the height of the boom, when I mistakenly thought I had money. Finally, we have a suit that Copeland likes. Well, “likes” might be pushing it, but at least he’s not utterly scathing about the cut.

He takes hold of the lapels. “This is good material,” he says. “It’s a Paul Smith and at least it has been cut in a modern style. And it nearly fits you. You could get away with wearing this, just about.” Result.

4

For some inexplicable reason, I bought a pinstripe suit in a Brown Thomas sale in 2008. Pinstripe? It was

Armani,

though, and I got it for a serious discount. “Pinstripe stopped being popular in 2008,” Copeland says. “With the economic crash, people stopped buying pinstripe. That’s probably why you got it so cheap.”

Oh. Apart from the fact that it is a suit worn by total bankers, he is happy enough with it. “The cut is better, more modern, and it has two buttons. It is probably the best one I have seen so far,” he tells me.

5 So we have a suit that Copeland likes. It is five years old, but my little black number can still cut it, he reckons. It is probably the suit I have worn most; because it is black, I can get away without a tux at a black-tie do, and it works for slightly less formal occasions too. "The cut is right and at least it fits you. You might get another two years out of it."

Two years? I was hoping for 20.