My day at Eton Shirts...

The flagship Eton shirt shop in South Molton Street in London, which has just opened, is not a place for the indecisive or easily bewildered. So many choices! Stripes versus plains versus checks. Button-down collar versus button-under. Cutaway collar versus extreme cutaway collar. Double cuff versus single... And that's before you've even got to the myriad contrasting buttonhole and monogram options. It's a wonder that I'm not still there, a week after my made-to-measure shirt fitting with Adrian Reid, leafing through swatch books and going, "Mmm, on second thoughts perhaps I'll go with a nice Madras check. What do you think?" as he stifles a yawn.

All I can say is that I am mighty glad I am not Adrian. Not because it is he who, as store manager, suffers such indecision with near-saintly chirpiness and patience. Nor because he goes home after a busy day with arms aching from all that measuring. No, the reason I am glad I am not Adrian is that he has to get up every morning and decide which of the 85 (and counting) formal shirts in his possession he is going to put on that day, and then find a tie to go with it. "And they are just the ones not in their boxes," he says, sheepishly. "In total I've probably got about 125 shirts." And this from a man who goes on to suggest that working men need no more than four or five formal shirts in their wardrobes, which they can wear in rotation.

The flagship Eton shirt shop in South Molton Street, London.

In fairness, I can now sort of see how someone might develop such an extreme addiction. Like many men, I've always skimped on shirts, believing there surely couldn't be that much between a perfectly good £19.95 button-down Oxford in organic cotton from Muji and something bought on Jermyn Street at many times the price, unless you happened to be the Prince of Wales or his valet. But I totally get it now, following my fitting.

I arrive wearing my best Jil Sander for Uniqlo stretchy white shirt, feeling a lot clammy and shabby after a quick-march to the shop, and soon realise just how shamefully ill-fitting it feels (that'll be my fault, not Uniqlo or Jil Sander's, I should add). Off comes the stretchy white shirt, and on goes a sample Pima-cotton number in my approximate size, which immediately feels like cooling liquid silk against the skin. My arms begin to go this way and that, so that I look like an air-traffic controller or someone doing upper-body calisthenics, as Adrian takes the pertinent measurements - arms outstretched, arms bent, arms pointing up, chest puffed up, chest not-so-puffed-up and so forth. He tells me that it is not uncommon for men to have one arm a good inch longer than the other from lugging heavy gym bags around. Not that there is any risk of that in my case, as he can probably see when he comes to wrap his tape around my ample middle. All these measurements are logged on the Eton system should I want to make repeat orders in the future.

And, er, that's it. Even taking into account the painful initial umming and ahhing on my part, the whole process is over within three-quarters of an hour easily. The shirt itself? I went for a chambray-coloured cotton in the end, with slightly darker stitching, pinkish buttons, cutaway collar and monogrammed initials (just in case I forget who I am). It'll be with me in about four weeks. But I am assured it will be worth the wait. And quite possibly the start of a ruinous habit...
etonshirts.co.uk

Eton: a potted history
The company began life at the end of the 1920s in Gånghester in Sweden. Set up by Annie and David Pettersson, the grandparents of the current chief executive (another David), it was originally called Skjortfabriken Special (the Special Shirt Factory). Years down the line, a younger generation of Petterssons conceded that the name didn't exactly trip off the tongue. On the lookout for something snappier, they were driving through Eton in Berkshire one day when they realised they'd found it. It's probably a good job they hadn't taken a diversion through Slough...

Basic shirt care
Always, always undo the buttons. None of that undoing the top one only, lifting the shirt over the head and throwing it into the machine - that way unsightly creasing of the placket lies.
Wash at 60 degrees maximum. Any hotter than that and your shirts will be far more likely to shrink. While we're at it, only ever wash shirts with shirts, and don't overload the machine, unless you want them to look even more creased than Keith Richards.
Beware dry-cleaners. Appealing as a shirt service is to the busy man or woman, the dry-cleaning process isn't kind to shirts, and many buttons are broken by industrial irons.
Do not wring the shirt of excess moisture, because you will damage the fibres and cause unnecessary creasing, and do not tumble-dry. The best thing you can do for your shirt is air-dry it on a hanger.
Everyone and their mum has an opinion on the "correct" sequence to iron a shirt, whether yoke or sleeves first. None of that matters, but you should try to iron the reverse of the fabric rather than the good side, and (perhaps surprisingly) you shouldn't iron the collar or cuffs - it will soon lose its structure and ruckle if you do. If you really must, press it with a towel between the iron and the cloth, and never use the steam setting.

Via: My day at Eton Shirts...