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SAN FRANCISCO
Shifting styles spell the end for suitmaker
Master tailor closing up shop after dressing city for decades
Carl Nolte, Chronicle Staff Writer
Saturday, September 9, 2006
A San Francisco institution is fading away this month, done in by changing times and, the owner says, by changing styles. The place is Courtoué, a men's clothing store on one of the best blocks on Geary Street, tucked between the Curran Theater and the Clift Hotel, not far from Union Square. Courtoué is the kind of place where movie stars of a generation ago would stop in for a few hours to be fitted for a suit or 3 or 4 or 10, the best suits in the West perhaps, at $4,000 and up. It would be easy to spend a couple thousand dollars on a sport coat, a couple hundred on a tie, waited on perhaps by Walter Fong, the owner and master tailor, a man who dressed like a million bucks himself.
Fong is out of a long tradition of Shanghai and Hong Kong tailors, a man who set the style for stylish men in San Francisco. Now Fong is 79 himself, and tired after a lifetime of work. "Don't you think that at 79 someone should finally retire?'' he asks.
The store, which he founded in San Francisco more than 30 years ago, is going, too. Fong thinks its day is done. "Things are more casual now,'' he said. "Even lawyers going to court don't want to wear a suit.''
He remembers the day, when he first came to San Francisco in the '50s, when women would dress up to go downtown, when a man couldn't even get in the door of a decent restaurant without a coat and tie. Both men and women wore business suits; businesswomen wore dresses.
"San Francisco,'' he said, "used to dress very well.''
That day is gone. "I think it is climate change,'' he said with a small laugh.
When he was a younger man, George Ow Jr., a Santa Cruz County land developer, realized he had a serious problem. "I did not know how to dress,'' he said. "Sometimes it pays to dress up.''
He went to San Francisco, as a matter of course. It was the center of fashion and had the best selection, he felt. He went to Wilkes Bashford but liked Walter Fong and his son, William, at Courtoué better; Courtoué was a family operation, and Ow raised a family himself; he brought his own children shopping with him.
"Two generations of my family have shopped there,'' Ow said. "It's like having your favorite restaurant close after 30 years. It's sad.''
In its prime, the store had famous customers. Walter Fong remembers that Raymond Burr, the star of the "Perry Mason" television series, playing the lawyer who never lost a case, would come in. Burr was a big man, size 50 long and hard to fit. He would spend hours at Courtoué. Nate Thurmond, the basketball player, was a client. So were George Moscone, the mayor, and Melvin Belli, the lawyer, men with style and class. When Art Agnos was mayor and had to officiate at his first Opera opening, he put himself in Fong's hands. His Honor was resplendent in white tie and tails for a mere $1,400, a hell of a lot of money 20 years ago. Herb Caen, the columnist, shopped there. He called Walter Fong "the Wilkes Bashford of Geary Street," a high compliment in Caen's world. He mentioned Fong in his Christmas column five years running.
Fong came by his reputation the hard way: He worked. First in Shanghai's international district, later in Hong Kong, when that city was famous for its tailoring. He worked 16-, 18-hour days. He came to the United States in the '50s, working as a tailor in Los Angeles. One day, into his shop came Aaron Spelling, the television producer. Fong spoke little English, but he knew style, and Spelling became a regular customer.
In 1958 or '59 -- he's not sure exactly when -- he came to San Francisco. "I noticed the sidewalks were full of people,'' he said. "In Los Angeles, nobody was on the sidewalk.'' It was a style point to him: San Francisco was a real city, he thought. "I decided I wanted to live here,'' he said.
He opened Walter Fong, Custom Tailor, at Grant Avenue and Sutter Street. By then, Fong had gone to Italian master-tailoring school. One day, he met Brioni co-founder Gaetano Savini himself. The two men appraised each other. "He said, 'You are the only other one who really understands tailoring.' "
Fong himself always wears Brioni clothes. "Clothing is my hobby,'' he said. "Brioni is the best clothing in the world.''
He is partial to the Italians: Canali, Armani, Versace, others. "They have the best workmanship, the best style,'' he said.
He moved to Geary Street 27 years ago and bought a six-story building. At one time he had 20 tailors, "more than anyone else in the city, I think," he said. Customers came from Washington, D.C., New York, Texas and Mexico.
But the culture changed, casual came in, and at the same time competition ramped up, boutiques appealing to younger clients. Walter Fong began noticing it five or so years ago. Business was dropping off, and the old style didn't quite work any more.
"I was thinking, thinking, thinking, a long time,'' he said. He was getting older, too. "I was not like I was 10 years ago, or five years ago,'' he said. Neither was business.
One day he went to the second floor of his store, the heart of the place, surrounded by racks of expensive men's clothes, and stood there thinking. "I was alone,'' he said. "My tears came.'' He had decided to close the store.
In his farewell letter to his customers, he said his four children, all involved in the store, had all decided to pursue other interests.
The going-out-of-business sale started in mid-August. It's a classic farewell: Everything must go, 50 percent off. Fong is not sure how long he'll stay open. Until the end of September or the end of the customers, whichever comes first.
Why did the store fail? Wilkes Bashford, San Francisco's premier purveyor of high-end clothes, thinks there is plenty of style left. He thinks that young people are dressing up more. He's optimistic. "I respect Walter Fong as a tailor and a businessman,'' he said. "There must be something else.''
There is. The customers Fong names so proudly are people of another generation. Raymond Burr, Aaron Spelling and Caen are dead, and their world has vanished.
George Ow's son, Ben, who is 25, flew up from Los Angeles to take advantage of the sale. He is an admirer of good clothes, the store and the Fong family, and he bought a couple of suits. But Courtoué, he said, was in its prime a generation ago. "It was a little outdated,'' he said. "Time had passed it by.''
That was the saddest part of all. The store that had set style had gone out of style.
E-mail Carl Nolte at [email protected].
Page B - 1
Shifting styles spell the end for suitmaker
Master tailor closing up shop after dressing city for decades
Carl Nolte, Chronicle Staff Writer
Saturday, September 9, 2006
A San Francisco institution is fading away this month, done in by changing times and, the owner says, by changing styles. The place is Courtoué, a men's clothing store on one of the best blocks on Geary Street, tucked between the Curran Theater and the Clift Hotel, not far from Union Square. Courtoué is the kind of place where movie stars of a generation ago would stop in for a few hours to be fitted for a suit or 3 or 4 or 10, the best suits in the West perhaps, at $4,000 and up. It would be easy to spend a couple thousand dollars on a sport coat, a couple hundred on a tie, waited on perhaps by Walter Fong, the owner and master tailor, a man who dressed like a million bucks himself. Fong is out of a long tradition of Shanghai and Hong Kong tailors, a man who set the style for stylish men in San Francisco. Now Fong is 79 himself, and tired after a lifetime of work. "Don't you think that at 79 someone should finally retire?'' he asks.
The store, which he founded in San Francisco more than 30 years ago, is going, too. Fong thinks its day is done. "Things are more casual now,'' he said. "Even lawyers going to court don't want to wear a suit.''
He remembers the day, when he first came to San Francisco in the '50s, when women would dress up to go downtown, when a man couldn't even get in the door of a decent restaurant without a coat and tie. Both men and women wore business suits; businesswomen wore dresses.
"San Francisco,'' he said, "used to dress very well.''
That day is gone. "I think it is climate change,'' he said with a small laugh.
When he was a younger man, George Ow Jr., a Santa Cruz County land developer, realized he had a serious problem. "I did not know how to dress,'' he said. "Sometimes it pays to dress up.''
He went to San Francisco, as a matter of course. It was the center of fashion and had the best selection, he felt. He went to Wilkes Bashford but liked Walter Fong and his son, William, at Courtoué better; Courtoué was a family operation, and Ow raised a family himself; he brought his own children shopping with him.
"Two generations of my family have shopped there,'' Ow said. "It's like having your favorite restaurant close after 30 years. It's sad.''
In its prime, the store had famous customers. Walter Fong remembers that Raymond Burr, the star of the "Perry Mason" television series, playing the lawyer who never lost a case, would come in. Burr was a big man, size 50 long and hard to fit. He would spend hours at Courtoué. Nate Thurmond, the basketball player, was a client. So were George Moscone, the mayor, and Melvin Belli, the lawyer, men with style and class. When Art Agnos was mayor and had to officiate at his first Opera opening, he put himself in Fong's hands. His Honor was resplendent in white tie and tails for a mere $1,400, a hell of a lot of money 20 years ago. Herb Caen, the columnist, shopped there. He called Walter Fong "the Wilkes Bashford of Geary Street," a high compliment in Caen's world. He mentioned Fong in his Christmas column five years running.
Fong came by his reputation the hard way: He worked. First in Shanghai's international district, later in Hong Kong, when that city was famous for its tailoring. He worked 16-, 18-hour days. He came to the United States in the '50s, working as a tailor in Los Angeles. One day, into his shop came Aaron Spelling, the television producer. Fong spoke little English, but he knew style, and Spelling became a regular customer.
In 1958 or '59 -- he's not sure exactly when -- he came to San Francisco. "I noticed the sidewalks were full of people,'' he said. "In Los Angeles, nobody was on the sidewalk.'' It was a style point to him: San Francisco was a real city, he thought. "I decided I wanted to live here,'' he said.
He opened Walter Fong, Custom Tailor, at Grant Avenue and Sutter Street. By then, Fong had gone to Italian master-tailoring school. One day, he met Brioni co-founder Gaetano Savini himself. The two men appraised each other. "He said, 'You are the only other one who really understands tailoring.' "
Fong himself always wears Brioni clothes. "Clothing is my hobby,'' he said. "Brioni is the best clothing in the world.''
He is partial to the Italians: Canali, Armani, Versace, others. "They have the best workmanship, the best style,'' he said.
He moved to Geary Street 27 years ago and bought a six-story building. At one time he had 20 tailors, "more than anyone else in the city, I think," he said. Customers came from Washington, D.C., New York, Texas and Mexico.
But the culture changed, casual came in, and at the same time competition ramped up, boutiques appealing to younger clients. Walter Fong began noticing it five or so years ago. Business was dropping off, and the old style didn't quite work any more.
"I was thinking, thinking, thinking, a long time,'' he said. He was getting older, too. "I was not like I was 10 years ago, or five years ago,'' he said. Neither was business.
One day he went to the second floor of his store, the heart of the place, surrounded by racks of expensive men's clothes, and stood there thinking. "I was alone,'' he said. "My tears came.'' He had decided to close the store.
In his farewell letter to his customers, he said his four children, all involved in the store, had all decided to pursue other interests.
The going-out-of-business sale started in mid-August. It's a classic farewell: Everything must go, 50 percent off. Fong is not sure how long he'll stay open. Until the end of September or the end of the customers, whichever comes first.
Why did the store fail? Wilkes Bashford, San Francisco's premier purveyor of high-end clothes, thinks there is plenty of style left. He thinks that young people are dressing up more. He's optimistic. "I respect Walter Fong as a tailor and a businessman,'' he said. "There must be something else.''
There is. The customers Fong names so proudly are people of another generation. Raymond Burr, Aaron Spelling and Caen are dead, and their world has vanished.
George Ow's son, Ben, who is 25, flew up from Los Angeles to take advantage of the sale. He is an admirer of good clothes, the store and the Fong family, and he bought a couple of suits. But Courtoué, he said, was in its prime a generation ago. "It was a little outdated,'' he said. "Time had passed it by.''
That was the saddest part of all. The store that had set style had gone out of style.
E-mail Carl Nolte at [email protected].
Page B - 1
