There is really nothing like a clothing factory. And I mean clothing in the proper menswear sense of the word — suiting. It really is amazing that I haven’t visited the good people at Martin Greenfield sooner, but I never really had a good opportunity. When Tyler Thoreson and I got to talking about Gilt’s Martin Greenfield suit offering it was just the chance I was looking for. Ladies in smocks constructing jackets, sewers sitting together stitching by hand, and of course, Martin (along with his two sons) on the factory floor full of enthusiasm. Check this off my list.
You can tell this place never stops and probably hasn’t for years. (Note the GGG clock.) The floor gets layered and layered around tables and machines because there is no time to stop production and redo the worn out floor. The factory has been there so long the neighborhood went from good to bad to hipster in a blink of Martin’s eye. During their breaks, the Greenfield factory workers spill out onto the sidewalk in front of the building and mix with seemingly unemployed creative types that inhabit the post-industrial streets of Bushwick.





















