Looking for a tux that won’t make you sweat? Look to Vienna!
Peter Weisz has designed men’s formal wear that won’t make the wearer sweat
When I arrive at the home of Austrian designer Peter Weisz, he is in the midst of trying to stop a rather large cat from jumping out of the apartment’s third-floor window. “He’s just visiting,” says Weisz, casually handsome in a scruffy beard and a white buttondown shirt with the sleeves messily rolled. When he finally gets the fluffy white feline back inside, the cat makes a beeline for his food dish. “He eats all of the time,” Weisz says with a laugh. “Like Garfield.”
The reference to generic popular culture is pleasantly discordant with Weisz’s extraordinary surroundings. Weisz lives in the centre of Vienna, near the famed Naschmarkt, in a century-old building complete with courtyard, original mouldings, grand double doors and 20-foot ceilings. His living and working space is full of antiquities picked up on travels, gifts from fellow artists and purchases from the local flea markets — things like candelabras, colourful hand-blown glass vases and taxidermy heads. The showpiece in his living room is a giant white chandelier, a dreamy mix of naked bulbs and feathers.
Behind a heavy curtain, Weisz’s cozy two-room atelier is packed with yards of loden fabric (synonymous with classic Alpine clothing), sample garments on mannequins and racks of ongoing projects. And it’s there, in his small studio, that Weisz is becoming distinguished for one particular garment: He has created a lightweight tuxedo that won’t make the wearer overheat. “When you go out in the evening, you see all of these women in their beautiful silk dresses,” says Weisz, as he lights another cigarette. “And the men sit next to them, red faced and sweating.”
Weisz, now 47, studied at Vienna’s Michelbeuern School, where he learned fashion less as a vision board and more as a precision craft. One of his final exams involved making an entire men’s suit in just 32 hours. Recently, after multiple incarnations — including stylist and fashion editor — and any number of creative outlets — from designing restaurant place settings and lamps to the labels on wine bottles — he has returned to his roots as a tailor.
Weisz wanted to update the feel of the suit without compromising tradition. His “tuxedo light” is unlined and made with superlight breathable wool. The accompanying dress shirt is made almost entirely of muslin. A Weisz tuxedo is made by hand and to order, takes a minimum of 35 hours to produce, and costs approximately €3,000. The newfangled design honours oldfashioned construction; the lapels are lined with silk, the pockets are a classic slit style, and shoulders contain horsehair to help maintain structure. Weisz has made 14 so far.
The tuxedo debuted as upscale evening wear in mid19th century England, and has gone through some familiar, if modest changes. (Shortened jackets and lapels, the elimination of tails and a brief but disastrous powder blue phase.) In North America, we now primarily associate the tuxedo with weddings, high school proms, formal nights on even the most downmarket cruise ships and butlers on television.
Some things translate easily. The words George Clooney, for example, transcend mere language. Other things do not. Vienna’s formal ball culture has no peer in Canadian society. “You turn 40 and you suddenly have to wear a tuxedo all of the time,” says Weisz, with some resignation, as I nod my head with no parallel awareness. There are around 450 balls in Vienna every year, and they vary from formal dances to more casual parties. Ball events peak during the winter carnival season, also known as Fasching.
It’s interesting that the tuxedo — one of the most classic, seldom revolutionized garments — is being innovated in Vienna, a city that reveres the past. "You look around and you're surrounded by these palaces, and you're encouraged to preserve things," one Viennese woman told me. Casual interpretations of the classic dirndl dress are readily available in the boutiques of modern Austrian designers, including Lena Hoschek. And even the brand new Sir Terence Conran-designed boutique hotel I stayed in — The Guesthouse Vienna — was a nod to Adolf Loos’ early 20thcentury inspirations.
But Weisz has found that his clients are always open to change when it comes to increasing comfort. “In the end, it’s all about how you feel in something,” he says. “The tuxedo light look is very traditional, but the weightlessness and ease are what bring it from the past to the future.”
Weisz’s practical skills and impressive vision have made him a master in the intricate and bespoke art of appearing effortless — both literally and figuratively cool. “You’re complicated enough up here,” says Weisz, pointing to his temple. “Everything else should be easy.”