Gambler. Tailor Made.

European boys allure. You see, their pants fit. Literally. From top to bottom. (Granted, like hipsters in Bedford-Stuyvesant, sometimes a bit too much). When I first encountered Xavier this was one of the things that stuck out, apart from his slight-but-oh-so-charming accent and his pink tie. In fact, the image of him walking down the streets in New York, with his long-handled umbrella, was not unlike the profile of John Steed - minus the bowler. These days, he does less walking and more zooming and darting, but looks dashing nonetheless.



When we came to Paris I uncovered his fashion bonanza. He has his suits tailor-made. A lot of guys parade into Hugo Boss and walk out thinking they've bought fashion. Little do they know that they can have a suit made for their body, choose the fabrics, the thread count and look like gold - à la parisienne. Comparable cost.





Last night we were in Gambler - the place where all of this is made possible in Paris. 4, rue de l'Arcade - in the shadow of La Madeleine. The owner, Didier Azoulay, is such a dude. He talks and measures with his hands. He makes 10,000 suits a year. He tailors "demi-mesure" suits, as opposed to "sur-mesure" ones, which means that he does not measure every inch of you, just half. (Still luxurious, but roughly half the price). He takes only three weeks of vacation (heresy in France), but claims that he gets bored and misses his shop too much when he is away. He drives an Aston Martin. All of this, I swear, only in Paris. It is worth going in to have a chat. And to be properly measured.