The Roebling fits relatively relaxed, but it has enough shape in the right places to avoid veering into zoot suit territory (not a bad look if that’s your thing, just not what I was searching for). The lapels are beefy enough to distinguish it from other popular off-the-rack options—most notably J.Crew’s Ludlow and Todd Snyder’s Madison—but not beefy enough that they feel tied to a specific era. The skirt is also a touch longer, a nice change of pace from other modern OTR options that lean slim and short. The pants are full but not sloppy, and the tacked cuffs are a nice vintage touch.
I went down two sizes in the trousers. (Either I don’t know my actual waist size or they run a touch big—or both.) After adjusting for the higher rise, I had my tailor take them up a couple of inches, a normal procedure for guys with shorter legs like me. I took my normal size in the jacket, made zero adjustments, and have zero regrets.
To say I loved the final result is an understatement. I wore the Roebling to the wedding I bought it for and nearly scored a contact high from how great I felt in it. The pants were somehow airy and hardy, and stayed that way throughout the evening. The jacket hugged my body in exactly the places I wanted it to without inhibiting my range of movement. I’ve spent the couple of months ever since finding excuses to wear it, or just breaking out the trousers solo when the full kit feels like overkill.
500 bucks isn’t nothing, but compared to alternatives in the same price range, it felt like so much suit—the beautiful Italian fabric, the spot-on cut, the endless versatility—for so little money. So long as there’s even the faintest hint of chill in the air, I’ll be looking for reasons to wear it into the ground.