It’s not every day that a Chabadnik gets an enthusiastic mention in a men’s fashion magazine, but Rabbi Yosel Tiefenbrun, 24, was not surprised to see his name online in the magazine “British GQ”. The young rabbi, an apprentice to Savile Row tailor Maurice Sedwell, attended the Golden Shears Award ceremony in March, the “Oscars of British tailoring.” He did not win, but his creation of a matching trilby, bow tie and pocket square won Tiefenbrun the “best in show” distinction from GQ.

“I’ve been interested in clothes ever since I was little,” said Tiefenbrun in a recent telephone interview from his home in London. “Clothing is very important in this world, and before major events people always buy new suits. I was coddled, and I persuaded my father to buy me a suit before every holiday. I always wanted new shirts, too. Ever since I was 12 or 13, I’ve been dressing differently from everyone else. That is, I was subversive: I didn’t wear clothes that were very different from anyone else’s, but there was always something that set me apart from them: My black suit had fine pinstripes and my black shoes had secret white edgings, for example. It was an attempt to be rebellious, but to stay within the strict confines of Orthodox dress rules. This is what’s called adding your own personal style.

“I didn’t try to be special by force. I simply appreciate clothes and I buy what I like,” he adds. “It wasn’t against the rules; I was just paying attention to what I like and appreciate. I still pay a great deal of attention to my clothes. In Chabad, we get a new Borsalino hat every few years. Mine still looks new even after several years, but my friends’ hats look shabby after two months. I remember when I transferred to a different yeshiva, they added a note to my file that said I was interested in clothes. From their perspective, it’s necessary to work more on one’s inner life. But I like my external self. I like to dress.”

Yosel Tiefenbrun was born in Brooklyn to an Orthodox family that moved to London when he was young; he attended a yeshiva there, and subsequently one in France and another in Holon. He then became a Chabad emissary to Singapore. This mission was a turning point for him. He began to dress more freely there, took more of an interest in fashion, met with designers and other people in the industry and began to think about a career in the field.

Nevertheless, Tiefenbrun did not rush into the world of fashion. “I thought that maybe it wasn’t the place for me,” he related. “The fashion world isn’t a religious place and from afar it seemed to be full of phoniness and glitz.”

Tiefenbrun initially enrolled in a course in interior design in Singapore but quickly realized it was not the right place for him: “I love design in general and I took a course in furniture design, but I was always thinking about fashion. When I designed a room, I realized that I was putting fashion into the rooms and objects. Then I also realized I needed to return to my old dream. I returned to London and took courses in pattern making and returned to London.”

Upon his return, he immediately set out for Savile Row, the street in London famous for its elite men’s tailoring establishments. He tried to get accepted to an apprenticeship and was sent to a sewing academy. He left that after six months.

“I realized it wasn’t good enough,” he explains. “There were a lot of students, and I didn’t get the appropriate attention needed for tailoring. Therefore I decided to register for the Royal Academy of Arts, and there I was interviewed by the person who is now my boss, Andrew Ramroop.”

Ramroop, who is also an odd bird in the British world of custom-made tailoring establishments, came to the capital of England from Trinidad, where he had been a tailor. He studied at the London College of Fashion and finished the program with honors. He tried to find a position at one of the establishments along Savile Row tailors, but encountered many rejections before finding his place at the veteran men and women’s fashion house of Maurice Sedwell; he worked his way up there and is now its director and owner.

Seeking his own label

When he interviewed Tiefenbrun, Ramroop was impressed by the young rabbi, his unusual story and his enthusiasm. He accepted him to the department and three weeks later invited him to become an apprentice at Maurice Sedwell.

“I was in shock,” recalls Tiefenbrun. “After three weeks I was accepted to the place where I’d always wanted to be. I left my studies and the next day I started working.”

That was a year ago.

“I do a lot of things,” he explains. “You begin and then slowly they add tasks. The tailoring here is bespoke − as opposed to [creating] suits by size, here they are made by hand from beginning to end. You construct a suit that takes into account the unique measurements of the wearer, whether with asymmetrical shoulders or a unique back. It’s a whole system, and it’s possible to sew a suit and take it apart dozens of times until the jacket gets the right proportions for the body beneath it. I do a lot of things: from making coffee for the clients to the sewing − from sleeves to the back of the jacket, to padding the front of it in the chest area. It’s a lot of work by hand and anyone who isn’t knowledgeable can’t understand why what you see on the outside is only a small part of what there is inside.”

And how do you connect your worlds?

“For me it’s one world. When I am a rabbi, I am a tailor, and when I am a tailor, I am a rabbi. Everywhere I go people know who I am. When you respect yourself, observe the Sabbath, fast on Tisha B’Av, eat only kosher food and don’t participate in birthday parties or ice-cream breaks at work − it arouses respect. Maybe they don’t always understand it, but they respect it. And if you respect [others], everyone will respect you.”

In his own world, too, Tiefenbrun enjoys respect. “When people hear I am a tailor, suddenly they all remember they had a tailor for a grandfather or an uncle. It’s a very Jewish profession. But you also have to remember that in England tailoring has a long tradition. I don’t see myself as part of the fashion world; I do tailoring. That is something different. When you have a suit tailored [to your measurements], you are making something timeless, something that will serve you for years. It isn’t seasonal.”

Nevertheless, Tiefenbrun says he takes care not to stand out when in synagogue. “I do wear clothes that I love everywhere else, but for the synagogue I wear gray or black cloth with pinstripes. You have to respect the surroundings and the tradition. But when I have a label of my own I will wear the clothes I make.”

The rabbi thus does not see himself as the fomenter of fashion changes in the community in which he lives. “I don’t think people there will dress any differently,” he says. “However, now that I am more aware, I am beginning to look at the traditional clothes and see the uniqueness in them. The Sabbath suits are beautiful and the long coats are finely designed and sewn. And altogether, Jews have always paid attention to their clothing: When you worship you are supposed to wear a hat and a jacket, to dress before the king. And clothes represent beauty. That’s how it is in the Orthodox world. And it’s amazing.”

And what do you wear on days off?

“On a day off or a casual Sunday I wear T-shirts. But at work I always wear suits and ties, of course. I hardly ever wear jeans anymore, because when you work in a place like Savile Row, you understand what prestige is and what clothes are that are made to your measure. I can’t turn back anymore. Some day I will have a label of my own, with bespoke suits, and I will help people dress better. First I will acquire all the necessary skills, and only then, with the help of the Holy Name, will I open a place of my own.”

Open gallery view Rabbi Yosel Tiefenbrun. "When people hear I am a tailor, suddenly they remember they had a tailor for a grandfather." Credit: Tal Cohen

Open gallery view Men's shoes. Credit: Tal Cohen

Open gallery view Men's tie. Credit: Tal Cohen