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This article first appeared in issue 14 of Umbrella Magazine.
Cubitts now offer a bespoke frame-making service. Umbrella’s Matthew Reynolds goes in search of the perfect pair of specs
"Versatile,” says Tom. “Your face is versatile.”
I’m taking it as a compliment. I’ve been called many things, and versatile is certainly one of the less offensive.
It’s also a good thing when it comes to having bespoke frames made – which I am, courtesy of London-based spectacle makers Cubitts. Company ownerTom Broughton is guiding me through the whole process.
“We want to find the ideal shape to compliment your face,” says Tom. “People with round faces should avoid round glasses – it just accentuates the roundness. Similarly, people with very angular faces should swerve square glasses. Your face is somewhere in the middle so we’ve got plenty of options”.
He’s not kidding. The Cubitts workshop beneath its Marshall Street store in Soho is home to a mind-boggling collection of frames.
“Round, oval, pantoscopic round oval – there are plenty of places to start,” says Tom, “and there are plenty of tricks we can use to find the best solution. For example, a keyhole bridge (think Persol sunglasses) will make the nose appear longer and slimmer than a regular saddle bridge, and a thicker browline (think Ray-Ban Clubmasters) will draw attention upwards – so avoid that if you have a receding hairline.”
“That’s the beauty of glasses, they give your face character, personality – they’re a statement.”
So what statement am I making with bespoke frames?
“That’s easy,” says Tom. “You’re saying, ‘I care about the details’.”
The store is named after the Cubitts brothers of King's Cross.
A brief history lesson. Once, all glasses in the UK were handmade. Spectacle-wearers would typically have their heads measured by optometrists and frames would be made to fit.
All this changed after World War II when the NHS rolled out an unprecedented scheme that allowed spectacle-wearers to receive free (or heavily subsidised) mass-produced frames. Unsurprisingly in austere post-war Britain the scheme was a huge success, and although the frames were of good quality, the range available was tiny – with just seven styles available for adults. Britain’s love affair with NHS frames continued up until the mid-1980s when the scheme was abandoned, leaving very few designers and specialist makers left.
“Nowadays things are different,” says Tom. “People care more about craftsmanship – where the materials come from, the process, the heritage. And nothing represents that more than having something made that’s unique to you. In the same way that a handmade suit will give you confidence, so too will a pair of bespoke frames.
“What we wanted to do at Cubitts was to open this up to everybody. Some of the more established brands already offer a bespoke service – but it’ll cost you a couple of grand. Ours start at a quarter of that price, and include lenses. It’s not all about huge profits for us. We want to keep that spirit of tradition and craftsmanship alive – if we don’t, who will?”
Optical equipment in the Soho store.
So what’s the first step? “I need to take some measurements,” Tom says, reaching for his notebook and a measuring device that looks like a spare part from the Apollo space mission. “This is an original LS Sasieni facial gauge,” he says. “We’ve developed a computer program so we can do this for customers all around the world, but it’s nice to do things the old-fashioned way.”
He rests the device on the top of my nose, adjusting the multiple scales and dials to take precise measurements. Then we look at the frame options.
Tom lays out a selection from Cubitts’ men’s collection. “We currently stock 20 styles of frames for men,” he says, holding up each pair to my face.
“I’d suggest we use the Brunswick model as a jumping-off point. It’s a slightly-rounded style of frame so it should soften and compliment the angles of your face. There’s been more of a tendency lately towards lighter rims, and some customers are even choosing metal over acetate as it can be cut thinner. But for a frame like this I’d suggest a 1.8mm-width acetate with a 3.6mm depth.
“For the temples – or ‘arms’ – we’ll go for a traditional angled hockey end as opposed to a straight paddle arm. That’s the sort that holds the frames in place by slightly pinching the sides of the head.
“The next stage is to create an acrylic ‘mock up’ of the frames using these measurements. This is a machine-cut template in black acrylic that you can try on to check if the fit is correct. Once you’re happy we can discuss the colour and material options.”
Matthew has his measurements taken by owner Tom.
A few days later I receive an email from Tom. Attached is a technical drawing of the proposed frame design, as well as a mugshot of me with a computer-generated graphic of the glasses superimposed on top. I like them – a lot.
The style is slightly different to the glasses I currently own, something I put down to Tom’s expertise – as well as the fact that my sole criteria for glasses-buying up until now had been that “they look like the ones that Morrissey wears”.
Back in the workshop a few days later I try on the ‘mock-up’ acrylic frames. They fit perfectly.
“That’s great” says Tom, “now we can choose the colour”. He picks up a piece of dark brown acetate from a pile of multi-coloured slabs on the desk in front of him. “I think this will suit your complexion. Some of our customers opt for a solid colour but the most popular finish is mottle, which has a strong contrast of tones and is what we’re using here, or havana – which is a lot more subtle.
“We don’t have to use acetate of course – we’ve made frames from all sorts of things in the past: walnut, oak, copper, horn, a vintage piece of real turtleshell, concrete, rust, even hardened milk resin! The next stage is to send these mock-ups along with the chosen piece of acetate to the framemaker to be hand-cut.”
Some of the technical drawings created for the bespoke frames.
Detail of cleaning cloth.
The process of hand cutting the frames with a hacksaw (not to mention the multiple rounds of grinding, filing, buffing and polishing) takes between three and four weeks. At any stage the brittle acetate can snap, or an angle mis-cut.
“Years of experience ensures that doesn’t happen,” says Tom, “a lot of the framemakers we work with have been doing this for decades. It’s something of a niche skill and a lot of them are now in their 70s. Still, you’re in good company – they’ve cut frames for all sorts of film and TV stars, including Dame Edna Everage. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t add any glittery wings.”
Detail of care booklet.
The finished frames.
After a couple of weeks I go into the store to collect my custom-made frames.
The correct prescription lenses have been added, and the glasses packaged in a monogrammed leather case alongside a cleaning cloth (featuring a screen print by Radiohead sleeve designer Stanley Donwood) and an optical screwdriver for final adjustments.
I open the case and take out the spectacles – they look fantastic. The dark brown acetate has been polished to a honey-coloured mottle finish. I stand in front of a mirror and try them on.
“So how do they feel?” asks Tom. “Fantastic. They suit me, perfectly” I say.
“Good. That’s exactly what we want to achieve.” says Tom. “Like I said before, when you’re buying a pair of bespoke glasses you’re saying, ‘I care about the details’. well, so do we.”