My grandfather had a relationship with his clothier that lasted longer than many marriages. Mr. Abrams at Kornblatt’s Men’s Store on Chicago’s North Side dressed him for everything from his wedding to standard office attire for nearly forty years. My grandfather didn’t “go shopping”—he’d call Mr. Abrams, mention an upcoming occasion or need, and arrive to find a thoughtful selection waiting in a private fitting room. Mr. Abrams knew his measurements, his color preferences, even which fabrics would irritate his skin condition. When my grandfather died, Mr. Abrams attended the funeral wearing a tie he’d sold him years earlier.
This kind of relationship has largely vanished from American retail. The concept seems almost absurdly quaint now—having a specific person who knows your wardrobe, understands your preferences, and guides your purchasing decisions through decades of your life. Most men today, even those who care about their appearance, have never experienced anything remotely similar. We browse alone through cavernous department stores with indifferent staff or shop online based on algorithm recommendations and anonymous reviews. We’ve gained convenience and possibly lower prices, but we’ve lost something profound in the process.
The old-school men’s store wasn’t just about selling clothes—it was about cultivating clients. Men like my grandfather didn’t have extensive style knowledge themselves; they relied on the expertise of career clothing men who understood quality, fit, and appropriateness in ways that went far beyond “this is trending now.” These relationships were built on trust developed over years, not on maximizing each transaction’s profit margin.
I’ve spent the last decade lamenting this loss while simultaneously shopping online like everyone else. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on me, but the convenience of midnight browsing and front-door delivery is undeniably seductive. Then last year, facing a friend’s black-tie wedding and frustrated with ill-fitting rental options, I found myself walking into H. Stockton in Atlanta while in town for a conference. What I experienced there wasn’t just good service—it was a revelation of what we’ve been missing in modern retail.
The gentleman who assisted me, Hamilton, had worked there for 27 years. When I explained my needs, he didn’t immediately pull tuxedos—he asked questions about the wedding venue, time of day, my role in the ceremony, and even the climatic conditions expected. He then measured me properly (not the cursory collar-waist-inseam I’d experienced elsewhere) and brought several options that specifically addressed my proportions and the event’s requirements. The tuxedo I eventually purchased fit better off the rack than custom pieces I’ve had made by online services, and his accessories suggestions were flawless without being upsells.
The experience was so dramatically different from modern retail that I’ve since been on something of a mission to find and support the remaining bastions of old-school menswear service across the country. These stores still exist, though they’re increasingly rare and precious. They survive not as quaint throwbacks but because they offer something algorithms and most modern retail experiences fundamentally cannot: human expertise applied with personal attention to individual needs.
O’Connell’s in Buffalo, New York, represents perhaps the purest preservation of the traditional American men’s store. Walking through their doors feels like stepping back in time, but not in a costume-y, affected way. The Wood family has operated this institution since 1959, maintaining relationships with both suppliers and customers that span generations. What distinguishes O’Connell’s isn’t just their carefully edited selection of traditional American clothing or their preservation of hard-to-find items like true sack suits and oxford-cloth button-downs with proper rolling collars. It’s their approach to customer service.
On my first visit, I was immediately struck by how the staff engaged with regulars—remembering not just their sizes but details about their lives, preferences, and past purchases. Even as a first-time visitor, I received careful attention focused on understanding my needs rather than making an immediate sale. When I mentioned casually that I was looking for summer trousers, the salesman asked about my existing wardrobe colors, preferred weight and weave, how I typically wear summer pants, and even whether I preferred a traditional or slightly lower rise. The questions weren’t perfunctory—he was building a genuine understanding of my preferences to make appropriate recommendations.
Cable Car Clothiers in San Francisco has managed a similar preservation of old-world service while adapting to contemporary retail realities. Having weathered a transition in ownership, they’ve retained their commitment to personalized service while carefully updating their merchandise mix to remain relevant. During my visit, I witnessed owner Jonathan Levin spend nearly an hour with an elderly gentleman selecting a new hat, discussing not just size and style but how the customer would wear it, with what garments, and for what occasions. The care and attention to detail was moving—this wasn’t transactional selling but genuine clothier-client relationship building.
The Andover Shop in Cambridge, Massachusetts, continues a tradition of measured, thoughtful service established in 1948. What impressed me most about my visit was how they handled my initial indecision about a sport coat. Rather than pushing for an immediate sale, Larry, the salesman who assisted me, suggested I take a walk around Harvard Square and think about it. “The jacket will be here if you decide it’s right,” he said. “Better to be certain than to have regrets.” This patience—this prioritization of the right purchase over the immediate sale—exemplifies what makes these establishments special.
In Chicago, Optimo Hats maintains an approach to customer service that would have been familiar to my grandfather’s generation. When I visited their shop in the historic Monadnock Building, I explained that I was just browsing and gathering information for an article. Rather than relegating me to self-service, owner Graham Thompson gave me essentially the same tour and education he provides to serious buyers. He explained their bespoke hatmaking process, demonstrated how they measure heads using conforming devices that date to the 1930s, and allowed me to examine examples of their craft without any sales pressure. That generosity with knowledge and time—regardless of immediate sales potential—reflects a philosophy of client development rather than transaction optimization.
H. Stockton in Atlanta, where my personal rediscovery of proper menswear service began, deserves special recognition for maintaining comprehensive service without feeling stuffy or intimidating. What distinguishes them in my experience is their ability to meet clients where they are in terms of knowledge and confidence. When I returned for dress shirts after my positive tuxedo experience, I brought a friend who was deeply uncomfortable in clothing stores and generally wore whatever his wife purchased for him. The staff engaged him differently than they had me—more educational, more reassuring, carefully building his confidence rather than overwhelming him with options or terminology.
What these establishments share beyond specific service practices is a fundamental philosophy about their role. They don’t view themselves primarily as product vendors but as stewards of their clients’ appearance. They understand that clothing purchases represent significant investments—not just financially but in how a man presents himself to the world. This perspective naturally leads to service that prioritizes appropriateness and longevity over immediate sales or trend-chasing.
The economic realities facing these businesses are challenging. Overhead costs for prime retail locations continue rising while online competitors operate with lower margins and without the expense of maintaining experienced sales staff. Many traditional men’s stores have closed in recent years, unable to square this difficult circle. Those that survive typically do so through a combination of adaptation and doubling down on what makes them special.
Some, like The Armoury (with locations in New York City and Hong Kong), have effectively leveraged social media to extend their influence and clientele while maintaining rigorous in-person service standards. Their Instagram account features not just product but education—helping potential customers understand quality markers, styling options, and the philosophy behind their approach. This creates informed customers who value the in-store experience rather than seeing it as an inconvenience compared to online shopping.
Others have evolved their merchandise mix to include categories beyond traditional tailored clothing while maintaining their service standards. Peter Elliot in New York City has thoughtfully incorporated casualwear and accessories that appeal to younger customers without compromising quality standards. During my visit, I observed how seamlessly they transitioned between serving a longtime customer selecting custom suits and a first-time visitor exploring their more casual options. The service philosophy remained consistent even as the product category shifted.
Some traditionally minded establishments have embraced made-to-measure programs that allow them to compete with online custom services while providing the superior guidance and fitting expertise that virtual interfaces cannot. Sid Mashburn, with locations in Atlanta, Washington DC, Dallas, Houston, and Los Angeles, has particularly excelled at this balanced approach—offering ready-to-wear, made-to-measure, and full custom options all delivered with consistent, knowledgeable service that builds long-term client relationships.
What I find most encouraging are the occasional new establishments opening with old-school service values. Khaki’s of Carmel in California, while not new (George Hladun founded it in 1990), represents a successful recreation of traditional menswear service values rather than the preservation of a decades-old business. Owner Jim Ockert has built a world-class menswear destination based on personalized service, carefully edited merchandise selection, and genuine expertise. The fact that such a store can be established and thrive in recent decades suggests the model remains viable when executed with commitment and authenticity.
Finding these service-oriented establishments requires more effort than locating the nearest mall anchor store, but the rewards justify the search. Beyond the major coastal cities, look for independently owned men’s stores that have survived for decades in downtown districts or established neighborhoods. The very fact of their longevity typically indicates something special about their approach. Bergdorf Goodman and Wilkes Bashford in New York and San Francisco respectively maintain menswear departments with service standards that approach the best independent stores.
When you find such an establishment, the key to unlocking their full value lies in how you engage. Be honest about your needs and budget constraints—these professionals would rather help you make the right purchase within your means than sell you something inappropriate that sours you on the experience. Recognize that the first visit represents the beginning of a potential relationship rather than a one-off transaction. The true value emerges over time as they learn your preferences, needs, and lifestyle.
Understanding what constitutes genuine service helps distinguish these special retailers from stores that merely use “service” as a marketing claim. Real menswear service includes technical expertise about garment construction and proper fit; institutional knowledge about appropriate dress for various contexts; and sincere interest in developing each client’s personal style rather than pushing a store’s preferred aesthetic. The salespeople in these establishments function more as personal consultants than transactional facilitators.
My most recent visit to one of these temples of proper menswear service came last month at Paul Stuart in Chicago. I had an hour between meetings and stopped in with no intention to purchase, just to see their current collection. When I explained this to the salesman, Mark, he nodded and said, “Let me show you what I think you’ll find interesting based on what you’re wearing today.” Rather than being annoyed by my browsing status, he saw an opportunity to begin a relationship. He showed me several pieces that genuinely appealed to my aesthetic, asked thoughtful questions about my preferences, and mentioned upcoming collections that might interest me. He even wrote down specific details to remember for my next visit. I left empty-handed but with a strong inclination to return—exactly the long-term relationship building that distinguishes these special retailers.
The future of such establishments remains uncertain. The convenience of online shopping and the economic efficiencies of scaled retail operations create powerful headwinds. Yet I remain cautiously optimistic that enough men will recognize and value the irreplaceable benefits of proper menswear service to sustain at least some of these special businesses. The personal guidance, technical expertise, and relationship continuity they provide simply cannot be replicated by algorithms or minimally trained retail staff.
For those men who’ve never experienced this level of service, I strongly encourage seeking it out at least once. The difference between being sold to and being dressed properly is profound and often revelatory. You may discover, as I did at H. Stockton with that wedding tuxedo, that the right guidance leads not just to better purchases but to a more confident relationship with how you present yourself to the world.
My grandfather’s forty-year relationship with Mr. Abrams at Kornblatt’s represented something we’ve largely lost in our convenience-obsessed, transaction-focused retail culture—the clothier as trusted advisor rather than mere vendor. While we can’t fully return to that era, we can support the establishments that maintain its best aspects: genuine expertise, personal attention, and commitment to appropriate dressing rather than trend-chasing. In doing so, we not only improve our own wardrobes but help preserve an approach to menswear that prioritizes relationship over transaction, appropriateness over novelty, and genuine client service over efficient selling.
