I thought it would be interesting to discuss Loro Piana here on PS, given it’s probably the luxury menswear brand that has grown most in prominence in recent years, and which has changed most in that time. 

My personal history with LP goes back a fair way. Over 25 years ago, I was the luxury-obsessed kid that hunted the clothing on eBay, and regularly trawled their outlet in Bicester Village. 

There was one rack, right at the back on the left, which was 70% off. That was where I headed first and over the years I managed to pick up a Horsey jacket, a Roadster knit, a suede bomber and a cashmere shawl (the only piece I still have).

I continued to buy sporadically, often treating myself to one thing with my annual bonus. And then as PS grew, I got to know the staff and company, culminating in a visit to the weaving and knitting operations, and the design HQ, in 2014 for my book The Finest Menswear in the World. It felt like I’d come a long way. 

The thing is, Loro Piana’s quality was always exceptional – indeed innovative – but the designs were a little stodgy. 

That Horsey jacket in green covert made me look like a 60-year-old, albeit an Italian one. I had to wear a size 46 in the Roadster just to avoid looking like a balloon. The industry joke at the time was that the perfect brand would be Cucinelli designs with Loro Piana quality. (Not something I brought up in interviews with either Brunello Cucinelli or Pier-Luigi Loro Piana, above.)

I’m not sure Cucinelli is viewed as favourably today, but LP still felt as staid in terms of design – that is until recently. 

In the last three or four years the designs have become more interesting and the fits rather better. It’s gone a little unnoticed, given LP’s popularity as the embodiment of ‘stealth wealth’ and various other controversies, but there has been a real shift. 

It started first with womenswear, obviously. The collections started to play more with proportions and texture, in menswear-like colours and  incorporating a lot of tailored coats and jackets. 

The looks above are from the past two years, and I think they’re good examples of how womenswear can be inspiring for menswear, whether it’s ideas of materials, colour or layering – something both myself and André have written about. More recent collections have featured more silks and beautiful embroidery. 

The men’s collections have been slower. There was an odd collaboration with streetwear designer Hiroshi Fujiwara, which scared everyone into thinking they were going down the Vuitton route and abandoning classicism entirely. 

But since then things have steadily improved. The fits have changed (I’m now a solid 50) and every season there are interesting shirts and knits in fabrics you see nowhere else. 

In store today, for example, you’ll still find their standard half-zip jumper but also an unusual open knit, one with a raised stitch used to create the stripes. There’s the standard navy blouson but also a silk/linen version with a shimmery texture and distinctive Japan-inspired collar. (Not currently online, but the shirt in the same material is similar.)

A lot of the full looks (below) aren’t for me, but each contains beautiful and unusual pieces. Plus it’s refreshing to have any brand playing with classic styles like this at the top level of quality. Often it feels like Purple Label is the only one out there, particularly with Tom Ford turning more conceptual. 

The issue hanging over all of this, of course, is price. Loro Piana is enormously expensive, much more so even in real terms than it was 25 years ago.

There are a few things we can say about this. 

First, although not to the same extent, everyone’s prices have gone up. It’s the same at Prada, at Ralph Lauren Purple Label and at Edward Green. Those are three very different companies – spending a very different proportion on their product – but they have all gone up. 

Second, to the best of my knowledge both as a consumer and (to an extent) industry insider, Loro Piana spends more on quality than its peers. The problem always used to be that it didn’t spend as much on design, and that now seems to be changing. 

Last, a lot of the Loro Piana products are genuinely innovative in terms of manufacturing and textiles. In the same way that I’m more likely to spend money on Ralph Lauren because nearly all their fabrics are exclusives – and I therefore can’t get them anywhere else – the same goes for Loro Piana. 

None of this justifies £2000 knitwear, but it hopefully points out some of the nuance. The world is rarely as simple as those shouting on Instagram or forums claim. The world isn’t split cleanly into heritage makers that are good value, and big brands that are ripping you off.  

So would I actually buy something from Loro Piana today, and if so what?

Perhaps, but very little. It would always be something that feels unique, and it would be a conscious indulgence: a treat, like upgrading on a flight – somewhere else where you know you’re paying over the odds.

For example, I bought a navy mock-neck from them a few years ago which had a fashioning structure I’d never seen anywhere, and was just beautiful. I have yet to see anything like it anywhere else. And at some point I can see myself being tempted by the shoes. 

Now, LP shoes probably need a whole post to discuss sufficiently. I think I could write one just on why I dislike the Open Walk. But like many things Loro Piana does, there is often genuine innovation in both quality and design with the shoes – as the number of copies of the Open Walk demonstrates. 

Yes, they do a version of the German Army Trainer, like everyone. But as a designer friend pointed out to me recently, the last shape is very different. It has a narrow, squared toe and surprisingly wide joints, the combination being a neat way to create a distinctive style that’s also more comfortable. The shoe is also made out of the best, natural materials inside and out, with the upper an uncoated deerskin. 

It’s these things that, as an obsessive about beautiful menswear, make me want to see and try them if nothing else.

Years ago, I attended a Loro Piana event to launch their new website. It was designed like a physical store, with the homepage showing a storefront rendered in dreamy watercolour. When you moused over it, a series of clicks took you through the shop, as if browsing in person. 

It looked lovely, but as a fellow attendee said to me on the way out: “I’m not going to go through a slide show every time I want to find a pair of shoes”. 

Loro Piana as a company has come a long way since then, and it’s no longer just luxe-obsessed teenagers like me that hunt down its products (searching for ‘Loro Piano’, rather than Piana, on eBay is a good tip). 

It’s become more popular and more expensive. But it’s still one of the few luxury brands I admire and, with the design consistently improving, now regularly visit. I think it’s also telling that even though I know a lot more about how the industry works than I did 25 years ago, I still (very occasionally) spend my money there.