May 15, 2015 10:50 p.m. ET
Most hot names in fashion shine bright for a few years and then burn out. But the rulers of the fashion galaxy—stars whose luminosity keeps burning by virtue of their creative core—are few and include Karl Lagerfeld, Ralph Lauren, and Paul Smith.
Over 40 years ago, at the age of 24, Paul Smith set up shop in a Lilliputian men’s boutique in his East Midlands hometown of Nottingham, 100 miles northwest of London. Today, Sir Paul oversees a $300 million global empire spanning 73 countries; 315 stores bear his name, and his brand has a significant presence in 1,500 department stores. Smith owns 60% of the privately held company. The firm’s Japanese master licensee, Itochu, is his minority partner, and with good reason. Smith enjoys a kind of cult status in Japan, with an impressive 250 shops around the country.
Center: navy crease-resistant suit ($1,555) with striped dress shirt ($450), Jackson shoes ($575), and leather business valise ($925). Photograph: Brad Trent for Barron’s
The Paul Smith firm employs more than 1,000 people overall, and, according to Managing Director Ashley Long, carries no debt and has seen steady growth in profits for the past 25 years. Paul Smith’s customer is often likened to a “creative type” between the ages of 25 to 50—but don’t underestimate his appeal among knowledgeable and sophisticated Wall Street men.
Part of Smith’s charm and appeal is his studiously unpretentious manner—despite his rock-star status. “He is the icon of British menswear,” says Simon Doonan, Barney’s creative ambassador, brandishing a Paul Smith $245 two-toned merino-wool cardigan that he purchased for himself at Barney’s. “He has a great understanding of men. He is a highly important part of Barney’s—as well as men’s clothing.” But when we tell Smith he is universally considered England’s most successful and influential menswear designer, the lanky 68-year-old says, “I think I’m OK.”
Such self-deprecating remarks flow steadily; during our talk, he likens his formidable Roman nose to the nose of his now-departed Afghan hound, Homer. And he deploys that same playful humor when reinventing the best of English tailoring, cheekily turning Savile Row conventions on their ear.
Paul Smith’s menswear has six lines appealing to disparate ages and tastes. His runway collection, or Mainline, is edgy and youth-driven, while his London line of suits, shirts, ties, pocket squares, and more are for the conservative dresser with a touch of the inner peacock. Smith’s trademarks, for example, are a smart and well-cut jacket with a colorful silk inner lining, and lavender stitching on a lapel buttonhole.
His PS by Paul Smith label incorporates gossamer polos (starting at $165) for the head honcho on holiday and “acid jungle” T-shirts ($230) for his skateboarding son. He also designs women’s clothing and engages in countless collaborations with everyone from Mini Cooper (the car is entirely covered in the signature Paul Smith bar code of colorful razor-thin stripes) to Led Zeppelin (limited-edition scarves evoking the band’s albums). “Paul Smith’s corporate vision is to be himself,” says Deyan Sudjic, head of London’s Design Museum. “That is the brand.”
Indeed, each Paul Smith store (no two are alike) reflects the authenticity of his unjaded, boyishly enthusiastic self. Step inside and you feel as if you’ve stepped into a funky Bloomsbury men’s club.
WE ENTERED HIS CAST-IRON New York flagship on Greene Street in SoHo, and were instantly amused by a black leather billfold in an overlaid striped pattern, with the Paul Smith Mini Cooper depicted on the inside ($375, see photo below). A brown leather belt, of which the keeper, or loop, bears his vintage stripe ($155), was discreetly chic. Smith’s novel cuff links are legendary: Lift off with toy copper rockets ($125, see photo below), or stay seated at a board meeting with his name in various motifs—as in his rectangular brown leather-like links stitched with the words “Paul Smith” ($140)—radiating conservative cool.
Smith was the forerunner in persuading guys to don striped socks and floral shirts without feeling emasculated. His current crop doesn’t disappoint: An indigo floral-patterned shirt ($285) worn open-collared is smashing when paired with a pinstripe suit.
Paul Smith is known for his offbeat accessories. Above, a $375 billfold with overlaid stripes and an image of the Mini Cooper he designed. Photo: Courtesy of Paul Smith
Smith has built a powerful reputation for his shoes, which include such best sellers as the $395 Robin—a sleek, black leather toe cap with blue laces and a minuscule “stripe” along the back—or the $295 Rabbit, a white sneaker adorned with a variation of the Smith stripe. Both look superb, night or day, with your 501s.
LEATHER GOODS AND SUITS make up the company’s two fastest-growing categories. Smith’s bespoke suits start at about $4,500, fitted by his London-based tailors, who visit the U.S. throughout the year. Off-the-rack suiting, made of Super 150 wool, encompasses six different fits, catering to physiques from super-svelte to broad–shouldered. It’s a welcome change from 20 years ago, when only the emaciated could squeeze themselves into his skinny suits, now a menswear staple.
A smart yet conservative two-button, double-vented glen-plaid in burgundy, navy, and aubergine (eggplant) is pure Paul Smith, with its oversize pattern and undersize price tag of $1,485. And a light-blue wool ensemble with a dotted lining for $1,600 is a distinctive and welcome option to everyday navy. You’ll be a cut different when you casually toss your jacket over a shoulder and slyly reveal Smith’s deep lavender or tie-dye silk lining.
“It’s for a guy who knows what he’s doing and wants that extra 10%,” says Esquire’s fashion director, Nick Sullivan. “It’s better than the boring stuff and safer than the weird stuff. And good value for the money. Plus, he makes a damn good suit.”
The Mainline fare—seen on the runway in Paris each season—is more weekend than office. That is, unless you work alone—particularly in the case of a dinner jacket with a half-baked, trendy shawl collar, for $1,675. It’s a Smith miss, which does happen on occasion, and in this case smacks of a wannabe celebrity working with a desperate stylist. Head instead for the sweaters: A wild Caribbean jungle-art crew neck has just the right vibe for a bonfire on the beach or a summer jaunt to Portugal ($1,205).Overall, Smith’s casual wear accounts for 60% of his sales.
All good fun, particularly when you know that either Paul Smith or his spirit is in the back room, working hard at keeping it real.
Bruce Pask is Bergdorf Goodman’s men’s fashion director, but his first job out of the College of William and Mary was as a stock boy at Smith’s lower Fifth Avenue store in New York. “His personality is everywhere,” Pask says. “Clients appreciate it when they can see his hand in everything. He always made a point of remembering my name—even if I was just a stock boy below.”
Smith, whose father was a Nottingham door-to-door household-goods salesman, could have decamped years ago to some sunny isle—or bought himself an entire archipelago. Instead, he prefers to be in his office before dawn, listening to a Van Morrison vinyl after a swim at London’s Royal Automobile Club. In these early hours, he writes postcards to thousands of fans who send him letters, everywhere from Japan to the Ivory Coast. “I think, ‘How in the heck do they know I exist?’ ” he says of the Ivory Coast missive. “I’m in this world called fashion, but, in fact, I couldn’t be further away, because I’m a very down-to-earth guy.”
While some of this might at times appear a little studied, there’s still enough authenticity to make it convincing. Smith insists he doesn’t use a computer, read e-mails, or look at texts, and he rarely picks up a cellphone. His staff sifts through the 800 or so work e-mails he receives each day, because, he says. “I don’t want to clutter my mind. I’m the boss. I have to be lucid, original.”
His Luddite stance is rather ironic, considering that one of his greatest admirers is Apple’s senior vice president of development, Jonathan Ive, who designed the iPod, iPhone, and iPad, and once sent Smith a six-foot-tall iPod.
BUT THERE’S ALSO A corporate point to all of this self-imposed simplicity. “Today’s fashion,” Smith says, “is about companies comparing themselves to what other brands are doing. My way of working is with my head rather than forecasts.” He has rebuffed countless takeover offers, so “I don’t have shareholders breathing down my neck. I like the idea of spontaneity. It’s all about balance. Not everything is just for profit.”
The label could be bigger, but Smith has expanded cautiously over the years, doesn’t believe in swanky grand openings, and has always refrained from multimillion-dollar advertising campaigns festooned with celebrity mugs.
His schedule, meanwhile, is tightly booked eight months in advance, and—good news for road warriors—he’s soon going to reveal a crease-resistant suit for travel, inspired by his own wanderlust.
Smith is most famous for his quirky cuff links; above, a pair featuring copper rockets ($125). Photo: Courtesy of Paul Smith
His newest store opening is a third New York locale that debuted in late March, at Brookfield Place in the Financial District. “It’s a very astute move,” says a New York competitor. “He toes the line between tradition and fashion [for] a young financial guy who wants to explore but still have that office allure.” Future plans include China and India.
Vogue’s international editor-at-large, the perennially best-dressed Hamish Bowles, savors his Paul Smith French navy-blue double-breasted suit with pink silk lining, “which they would have never done on Savile Row.”
Bowles finds the Paul Smith’s aura indispensable for his work. “As an editor for fairly straight-laced publications, I need to project a professional look but still stay true to myself,” he says. “[Smith’s] clothes have personality and yet are aptly conservative enough. He straddles the market between Condé Nast and Goldman Sachs.”
The Smith formula for success, in short, is never to have a formula, presenting only the best of British tailoring with a slightly mischievous and self-deprecating grin worn on the sleeve. As Barney’s Doonan observes, “He’s just a good bloke who never stops.”
And neither do his suits, which are eminently fun and respectable, and always look fresh.
E-mail: penta@barrons.com
Julie Dickson is looking to follow in her dad’s footsteps
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