Press coverage

Articles about Meyer and Mortimer in the press and media will be posted here.

Meyer and mortimer press release (2009)

Gathering dust in the basement of a Savile Row tailors and military outfitter is a suit pattern worthy of the attentions of the renowned Belgian sleuth, Hercules Poirot.  As is the custom with all the bespoke work of Meyer and Mortimer prepared for customers across the globe, the  pattern should have been delivered for a final fitting. But the client failed to turn up and the pattern, by a twist of fate, narrowly avoided becoming a casualty of one of Britain’s worst maritime disasters.
More of that mystery later; losing clients is not practice of Meyer and Mortimer whose customers in a history spanning more than two centuries have included that innovator of sartorial elegance, Beau Brummell; the Duke of Wellington; and monarchs around the world.
Savile Row is the collective name for the top quality tailors based in and around the central London thoroughfare.  Meyer and Mortimer has its head office in adjacent Sackville Street, just off Piccadilly Circus, but its origins lie partly  in Scotland.   John Meyer, a tailor from Austria, established a tailoring and military outfitting business late in the eighteenth century, while the Mortimer family were operating in Edinburgh specialising in military outfitting.   As was the practice in those days, such companies also supplied their customers with swords, ceremonial dirks and firearms.  Many authenticated examples of such weapons remain in existence.
Surviving records show that John Meyer’s company was making clothes for the Prince Regent and his fashion mentor, Beau Brummell,  as early as 1810. When the prince ascended the throne as George IV he awarded the company a royal warrant -- the first of many through the years, right down to warrants awarded by the current monarch, Queen Elizabeth.
At the same time as assisting with the supply of clothes for the changing fashion tastes of Regency England, tailors from Meyers were travelling through Europe following the British army’s engaged in the Napoleonic Wars.  If the officers could not leave campaigning  to get their outfits measured and fitted , the tailors had to go to them.  Records show that uniforms made by the company were worn at the Battle of Waterloo.
An interesting point was that the company sent out its bills in guineas -- the old currency of one pound and one-shilling -- rather than in pounds sterling.  This was to allow for a built-in interest payment as military officers at the time were notorious late payers.
In the 1830s the Meyers joined forces with John Mortimer to establish a new company, Meyer and Mortimer, which was advertised in Edinburgh under the title “army contractors and tailors to His Majesty“.   The new company was also known as the Royal Clan Tartan Warehouse, specialising in supplying Scottish military officers.  Back in London the company was awarded further royal warrants by Queen Victoria,  including outfitting the Military Knights of Windsor and supplying their ceremonial weapons.
Meyer and Mortimer tailors still travel the world to meet the needs of clients, albeit in more comfort than their predecessors of Napoleonic times.  Prominent clients include the Sultan of Brunei and the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.  The company also continues to supply ceremonial uniforms, dress uniforms and mufti apparel for officers in many British regiments.
It’s expertise is also called upon by the modern entertainment industry. The actor Trevor Howard, for example, had a jacket made for him by a boy apprentice when he played the role of Lord Cardigan in the 1968 film version of the Charge of the Light Brigade. That apprentice is now a director of Meyer and Mortimer, underlining the sense of loyalty and continuity at the company.  Another actor, Peter Sellers, was so impressed with the company that he commissioned it to make his outfit when he married Miranda Quarry.
Back now to the mystery of that unclaimed suit pattern.  The customer, a Monsieur Phillipe Autenloe, arranged to meet a representative of Meyer and Mortimer for a final fitting at a hotel in Brussels on March 6th, 1987.  The representative waited without success until he could no longer afford to miss his return ferry to England.  Held up by heavy traffic, he arrived at the port of Zeebrugge to see the stern of his scheduled ferry leaving the dock.  Waiting for the next departure, he found himself at the centre of high drama as news spread that his intended ferry, the Spirit of Free Enterprise, had sunk with the loss of nearly 200 passengers and crew.
Repeated efforts over the intervening years to locate Monsieur Autenloe, reportedly a prominent jeweller, have drawn a complete blank.  Truly a case for Hercules Poirot.
Gathering dust in the basement of a Savile Row tailors and military outfitter is a suit pattern worthy of the attentions of the renowned Belgian sleuth, Hercules Poirot.  As is the custom with all the bespoke work of Meyer and Mortimer prepared for customers across the globe, the  pattern should have been delivered for a final fitting. But the client failed to turn up and the pattern, by a twist of fate, narrowly avoided becoming ar casualty of one of Britain’s worst maritime disasters.
More of that mystery later; losing clients is not practice of Meyer and Mortimer whose customers in a history spanning more than two centuries have included that innovator of sartorial elegance, Beau Brummel; the Duke of Wellington; and monarchs around the world.
Savile Row is the collective name for the top quality tailors based in and around the central London thoroughfare.  Meyer and Mortimer has its head office in adjacent Sackville Street, just off Piccadilly Circus, but its origins lie partly  in Scotland.   John Meyer, a tailor from Austria, established a tailoring and military outfitting business late in the eighteenth century, while the Mortimer family were operating in Edinburgh specialising in military outfitting.   As was the practice in those days, such companies also supplied their customers with swords, ceremonial dirks and firearms.  Many authenticated examples of such weapons remain in existence.
Surviving records show that John Meyer’s company was making clothes for the Prince Regent and his fashion mentor, Beau Brummel,  as early as 1810. When the prince ascended the throne as George IV he awarded the company a royal warrant -- the first of many through the years, right down to warrants awarded by the current monarch, Queen Elizabeth.
At the same time as assisting with the supply of clothes for the changing fashion tastes of Regency England, tailors from Meyers were travelling through Europe following the British armies engaged in the Napoleonic Wars.  If the officers could not leave campaigning  to get their outfits measured and fitted , the tailors had to go to them.  Records show that uniforms made by the company were worn at the Battle of Waterloo.
An interesting point was that the company sent out its bills in guineas -- the old currency of one pound and one-shilling -- rather that in pounds sterling.  This was to allow for a built-in interest payment as military officers at the time were notorious late payers.
In the 1830s the Meyers joined forces with John Mortimer to establish a new company, Meyer and Mortimer, which was advertised in Edinburgh under the title “army contractors and tailors to His Majesty“.   The new company was also known as the Royal Clan Tartan Warehouse, specialising in supplying Scottish military officers.  Back in London the company was awarded further royal warrants by Queen Victoria,  including outfitting the Military Knights of Windsor and supplying their ceremonial weapons.
Meyer and Mortimer tailors still travel the world to meet the needs of clients, albeit in more comfort than their predecessors of Napoleonic times.  Prominent clients include the Sultan of Brunei and the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.  The company also continues to supply ceremonial uniforms, dress uniforms and mufti apparel for officers in many British regiments.
It’s expertise is also called upon by the modern entertainment industry. The actor Trevor Howard, for example, had a jacket made for him by a boy apprentice when he played the role of Lord Cardigan in the 1968 film version of the Charge of the Light Brigade. That apprentice is now a director of Meyer and Mortimer, underlining the sense of loyalty and continuity at the company.  Another actor, Peter Sellers, was so impressed with the company that he commissioned it to make his outfit when he married Miranda Quarry.
Back now to the mystery of that unclaimed suit pattern.  The customer, a Monsieur Phillipe Autenloe, arranged to meet a representative of Meyer and Mortimer for a final fitting at a hotel in Brussels on March 6th, 1987.  The representative waited without success until he could no longer afford to miss his return ferry to England.  Held up by heavy traffic, he arrived at the port of Zeebrugge to see the stern of his scheduled ferry leaving the dock.  Waiting for the next departure, he found himself at the centre of high drama as news spread that his intended ferry, the Spirit of Free Enterprise, had sunk with the loss of nearly 200 passengers and crew.
Repeated efforts over the intervening years to locate Monsieur Autenloe, reportedly a prominent jeweller, have drawn a complete blank.  Truly a case for Hercules Poirot.

Gathering dust in the basement of a Savile Row tailors and military outfitter is a suit pattern worthy of the attentions of the renowned Belgian sleuth, Hercules Poirot.  As is the custom with all the bespoke work of Meyer and Mortimer prepared for customers across the globe, the  pattern should have been delivered for a final fitting. But the client failed to turn up and the pattern, by a twist of fate, narrowly avoided becoming a casualty of one of Britain’s worst maritime disasters.


More of that mystery later; losing clients is not practice of Meyer and Mortimer whose customers in a history spanning more than two centuries have included that innovator of sartorial elegance, Beau Brummell; the Duke of Wellington; and monarchs around the world.


Savile Row is the collective name for the top quality tailors based in and around the central London thoroughfare.  Meyer and Mortimer has its head office in adjacent Sackville Street, just off Piccadilly Circus, but its origins lie partly  in Scotland.   John Meyer, a tailor from Austria, established a tailoring and military outfitting business late in the eighteenth century, while the Mortimer family were operating in Edinburgh specialising in military outfitting.   As was the practice in those days, such companies also supplied their customers with swords, ceremonial dirks and firearms.  Many authenticated examples of such weapons remain in existence.


Surviving records show that John Meyer’s company was making clothes for the Prince Regent and his fashion mentor, Beau Brummell,  as early as 1810. When the prince ascended the throne as George IV he awarded the company a royal warrant -- the first of many through the years, right down to warrants awarded by the current monarch, Queen Elizabeth.


At the same time as assisting with the supply of clothes for the changing fashion tastes of Regency England, tailors from Meyers were travelling through Europe following the British army’s engaged in the Napoleonic Wars.  If the officers could not leave campaigning  to get their outfits measured and fitted , the tailors had to go to them.  Records show that uniforms made by the company were worn at the Battle of Waterloo. 


An interesting point was that the company sent out its bills in guineas -- the old currency of one pound and one-shilling -- rather than in pounds sterling.  This was to allow for a built-in interest payment as military officers at the time were notorious late payers.
In the 1830s the Meyers joined forces with John Mortimer to establish a new company, Meyer and Mortimer, which was advertised in Edinburgh under the title “army contractors and tailors to His Majesty“.   The new company was also known as the Royal Clan Tartan Warehouse, specialising in supplying Scottish military officers.  Back in London the company was awarded further royal warrants by Queen Victoria,  including outfitting the Military Knights of Windsor and supplying their ceremonial weapons.


Meyer and Mortimer tailors still travel the world to meet the needs of clients, albeit in more comfort than their predecessors of Napoleonic times.  Prominent clients include the Sultan of Brunei and the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.  The company also continues to supply ceremonial uniforms, dress uniforms and mufti apparel for officers in many British regiments. 


It’s expertise is also called upon by the modern entertainment industry. The actor Trevor Howard, for example, had a jacket made for him by a boy apprentice when he played the role of Lord Cardigan in the 1968 film version of the Charge of the Light Brigade. That apprentice is now a director of Meyer and Mortimer, underlining the sense of loyalty and continuity at the company.  Another actor, Peter Sellers, was so impressed with the company that he commissioned it to make his outfit when he married Miranda Quarry.


Back now to the mystery of that unclaimed suit pattern.  The customer, a Monsieur Phillipe Autenloe, arranged to meet a representative of Meyer and Mortimer for a final fitting at a hotel in Brussels on March 6th, 1987.  The representative waited without success until he could no longer afford to miss his return ferry to England.  Held up by heavy traffic, he arrived at the port of Zeebrugge to see the stern of his scheduled ferry leaving the dock.  Waiting for the next departure, he found himself at the centre of high drama as news spread that his intended ferry, the Spirit of Free Enterprise, had sunk with the loss of nearly 200 passengers and crew. Repeated efforts over the intervening years to locate Monsieur Autenloe, reportedly a prominent jeweller, have drawn a complete blank.  Truly a case for Hercules Poirot.


Gathering dust in the basement of a Savile Row tailors and military outfitter is a suit pattern worthy of the attentions of the renowned Belgian sleuth, Hercules Poirot.  As is the custom with all the bespoke work of Meyer and Mortimer prepared for customers across the globe, the  pattern should have been delivered for a final fitting. But the client failed to turn up and the pattern, by a twist of fate, narrowly avoided becoming ar casualty of one of Britain’s worst maritime disasters.


More of that mystery later; losing clients is not practice of Meyer and Mortimer whose customers in a history spanning more than two centuries have included that innovator of sartorial elegance, Beau Brummel; the Duke of Wellington; and monarchs around the world.


Savile Row is the collective name for the top quality tailors based in and around the central London thoroughfare.  Meyer and Mortimer has its head office in adjacent Sackville Street, just off Piccadilly Circus, but its origins lie partly  in Scotland.   John Meyer, a tailor from Austria, established a tailoring and military outfitting business late in the eighteenth century, while the Mortimer family were operating in Edinburgh specialising in military outfitting.   As was the practice in those days, such companies also supplied their customers with swords, ceremonial dirks and firearms.  Many authenticated examples of such weapons remain in existence.


Surviving records show that John Meyer’s company was making clothes for the Prince Regent and his fashion mentor, Beau Brummel,  as early as 1810. When the prince ascended the throne as George IV he awarded the company a royal warrant -- the first of many through the years, right down to warrants awarded by the current monarch, Queen Elizabeth.


At the same time as assisting with the supply of clothes for the changing fashion tastes of Regency England, tailors from Meyers were travelling through Europe following the British armies engaged in the Napoleonic Wars.  If the officers could not leave campaigning  to get their outfits measured and fitted , the tailors had to go to them.  Records show that uniforms made by the company were worn at the Battle of Waterloo. 


An interesting point was that the company sent out its bills in guineas -- the old currency of one pound and one-shilling -- rather that in pounds sterling.  This was to allow for a built-in interest payment as military officers at the time were notorious late payers.


In the 1830s the Meyers joined forces with John Mortimer to establish a new company, Meyer and Mortimer, which was advertised in Edinburgh under the title “army contractors and tailors to His Majesty“.   The new company was also known as the Royal Clan Tartan Warehouse, specialising in supplying Scottish military officers.  Back in London the company was awarded further royal warrants by Queen Victoria,  including outfitting the Military Knights of Windsor and supplying their ceremonial weapons.


Meyer and Mortimer tailors still travel the world to meet the needs of clients, albeit in more comfort than their predecessors of Napoleonic times.  Prominent clients include the Sultan of Brunei and the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.  The company also continues to supply ceremonial uniforms, dress uniforms and mufti apparel for officers in many British regiments. 


It’s expertise is also called upon by the modern entertainment industry. The actor Trevor Howard, for example, had a jacket made for him by a boy apprentice when he played the role of Lord Cardigan in the 1968 film version of the Charge of the Light Brigade. That apprentice is now a director of Meyer and Mortimer, underlining the sense of loyalty and continuity at the company.  Another actor, Peter Sellers, was so impressed with the company that he commissioned it to make his outfit when he married Miranda Quarry.


Back now to the mystery of that unclaimed suit pattern.  The customer, a Monsieur Phillipe Autenloe, arranged to meet a representative of Meyer and Mortimer for a final fitting at a hotel in Brussels on March 6th, 1987.  The representative waited without success until he could no longer afford to miss his return ferry to England.  Held up by heavy traffic, he arrived at the port of Zeebrugge to see the stern of his scheduled ferry leaving the dock.  Waiting for the next departure, he found himself at the centre of high drama as news spread that his intended ferry, the Spirit of Free Enterprise, had sunk with the loss of nearly 200 passengers and crew. Repeated efforts over the intervening years to locate Monsieur Autenloe, reportedly a prominent jeweller, have drawn a complete blank.

Truly a case for Hercules Poirot.

 

 

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