Superfine Reflections: On Legacy, Tailoring, and the Black Dandy

The name of my father’s tailor shop in Islington was Allen and Sons. I’ve always carried immense pride in that title. Though my own career has taken many turns — from education to film, fashion weeks to private clients — tailoring has always been the thread I return to. In my family, tailoring wasn’t just craft. It was survival. 

My parents arrived from the small island of Montserrat as part of the Windrush generation, bringing with them the skill of making clothes — a skill that would shape not just their lives, but mine and my 8 siblings. Tailoring was their currency, their way of finding place and purpose in a new world.

 In 2024, as I marked the 40th anniversary of my business, I found myself reflecting more than celebrating. I thought about the paths I’ve walked, and the pieces of memory I’ve lost along the way. You see, I never kept an archive. I sold everything I made. That’s what I knew — you made the garment, and you moved forward. There was no luxury of sentimentality, just the urgency of making a living.

Now, with the wisdom that time gives, I look at my contemporaries — some proudly showcasing pristine archives, entire histories curated and preserved. I’ve seen my own vintage designs in the wardrobes of clients and old friends, kept in immaculate condition. It’s surreal. They have what I never thought to keep for myself: the evidence. This year’s Met Gala theme — Superfine: The Black Dandy — strikes something deeply personal. My interpretation of dandyism has always been quieter than most. Understated. Rooted in elegance rather than flamboyance. A whisper of confidence, not a shout.

As I look forward to the exhibition and my contribution, I feel both pride and a little pain. The absence of photographs, garments, records — they’re ghosts of a legacy that was never documented. In recent years, I’ve been invited to contribute to films and exhibitions that look to me as a marker of a certain period. I’ve said yes, often with a twinge of regret that I no longer have the original pieces. Yes, I can remake them. But bespoke, by its very nature, is lightning in a bottle — it can’t ever be exactly replicated.

So, we keep going. We are building a new archive. A living one. Every sketch, every stitch, every story.

This time, we keep the evidence