I Finally Had a Collared Shirt Custom-Made by a Neapolitan Tailor

I have been neighbors with Ciro’s tiny workshop for nearly three years, and it wasn’t until this summer that I finally worked up the courage to stop in. You never know what you’re going to find on the other side of the door when you nervously knock and ask a simple permesso?

After having lived in Italy for nearly seven years, three of them now in Naples, I figured it was finally time to sit down and customize a collared shirt. And if it had to be done anywhere in the world, it should be done in Naples, where tailoring has been a way of life for generations, producing some of the finest custom jackets, trousers, button-downs, and ties in the world.

Possibly my favorite wardrobe staple, I love how a collared shirt feels polished yet second-skin effortless, classic in style yet endless in versatility. It can be paired with gym shorts or leather pants and a pair of New Balance sneakers, yet somehow it still finds its place in nearly every fashion setting. I love the masculinity of it, the relaxed, borrowed-from-the-guys feel, and the way it instantly makes an outfit feel much, much more thought-out. It's the piece you can reinvent, which is exactly why my love for them grows more and more.

If you walk by Ciro's studio and don't have your eyes carefully peeled, odds are you'll miss it. Sitting just below street level with a step down and barely-there signage, he's been customizing shirts, suits, swim trunks, and ties for over 30 years.

Just ten years ago, nearly every corner in Naples was home to a tailor working out of a tiny ground-floor shop. But after years of over-tourism, many have shut down, replaced by yet another fried-food shop, while others have had no choice but to sell their craft to the big Made in Italy fashion houses just to make a living. It makes finding someone like Ciro, and having a shirt made by him, that much more special.

A true master, he's humble in nature, offering me a coffee and a glass of water in true Neapolitan fashion before passing me booklets of fabric swatches to choose from and insisting I sit down as his fluffy-eared white dog, Leo, hops onto my lap. There is leftover tobacco sprinkled all over his desk from rolling cigarettes, business cards scattered everywhere, and a standalone fan catching every drop of sweat that forms at my hairline because basement-level living in the middle of a Neapolitan summer is next level.

Before getting into fit and style, I knew I wanted something that felt nautical, which could be a fair representation of a city that lives and dies by the sea. I wanted a fit that felt like you were throwing on your dad's best, most worn-in Ralph Lauren shirt from the beginning of his office days in the '80s and '90s: baggy in all the right places and fitted in the others. I wanted the shirt to have a good amount of length, sleeves that didn't feel too heavy under the armpit, and, most importantly, a collar and cuffs that felt a little more open and relaxed while still holding their shape, which I learned is known as a French collar.

Finishing his cigarette while telling little Leo to stop his barking nonsense, Ciro scribbles everything I just blabbered on about onto a white sheet of printer paper, takes my measurements, including my back, neck, waist, wrists, and height, and tells me to stop back in a week for the first fitting. Let’s just say artisans in Italy will tell you from start to finish it’ll take ten days, but multiply that by at least five and you’re looking at a much more realistic timeline for when your prized possession will be ready to take home. My first fitting took more than two weeks, and the final product was ready in my arms just yesterday, bringing it close to 60 days.

I finally picked up my shirt just yesterday, and it cost me €70. I don't mean "only" as if €70 is pennies, because it isn't, but for a one-of-one, custom-made shirt cut to my measurements by a single artisan, it feels almost impossible. My shirt took two months to make. Two months by a one-man show who has spent over three decades perfecting his craft. Ciro’s studio isn’t glamorous. There are no velvet-lined fitting room curtains, no branded shopping bags, no brand loyalty rewards or payouts, and no marketing machine convincing you to buy into a lifestyle. But his product is good, and he is great, and that makes every penny feel worth it.

P.S. Since The Row is still such an easy target :)

High-profile journalists, fashion insiders, and even influencers will ride for The Row till the break of dawn, talking about how the brand’s quality and “tailoring” are the best of the best. And they know this...how?

And it’s not just The Row. Take a browse through just about any trending brand right now, from Reformation and even Charvet, and a “plain Jane” collared shirt will run you anywhere from $250 to $800. Of course, The Row is feeling particularly spicy, daring to charge $1,150 for one.

I love this video by on Instagram, where he breaks down the construction and quality of one of The Row’s shirts. It reveals a lot more than you might expect and raises a bigger question: what actually is quality? After spending two months watching one man make my shirt from scratch, I think I know what it is.

As consumers, I think (and hope) we’re becoming more curious about where our clothes come from, what quality actually means, and who we’re really paying when we hand over our credit card. Made in Italy sure isn’t enough anymore, so maybe knowing who in Italy made it is becoming the real luxury.

Xx,

Gabri