On tailoring shop High Society and the opening of its new store

The intrigue of magic — any magic — is rooted in its mystery. A craft performed out of sight can surprise us with its shape-shifting power, which only truly reveals itself to those who know where to look.

Hems, inseams, darts and vents are all details hidden beneath the surface of a garment, but much like the body’s skeletal system, they make up the essential, inconspicuous infrastructure on which a suit hangs. The light touch of a tailor’s hand makes it so that the clothes they create and adjust seem casually perfect, despite the immense amount of labor. But suits do not simply appear out of thin air: They are the terminal point of a journey that begins with an idea, then a pattern, then carefully cut fabric, which is ultimately sewn, adjusted, worn. And in the case of suits made by the team at High Society, these multi-step works of art usually end up in a client’s closet for a lifetime.

Founded by Richard Lim in 1968 in a storefront on Wilshire Boulevard, High Society is a bespoke brand and tailoring company focused on crafting custom suits and other wardrobe items. Lim emigrated to Los Angeles from Seoul, South Korea, where he’d worked at a tailoring shop in the front of house as a salesperson meeting with clients and taking measurements.

“When he moved to the States, he left that world behind and he wanted to be an engineer. He then opened up a gift shop with my mom at some point, but I think something clicked down the line where he was like, ‘I know how to do this other thing, and maybe I can bring some tailors from Korea to the States,’” David Lim, Richard’s son and current owner of High Society, tells me. “There were a lot of immigrants that came over from my dad, at least a dozen. And then eventually, over time, they branched off and did their own businesses.”

Fast-forward to nearly six decades later and L.A.’s brightest stars have gotten suits made by High Society, including Kobe Bryant, Magic Johnson, Tom Bradley, Conan O’Brien, Stephen Merchant, John C. Reilly, Ray Charles, Prince and many others. Prince worked with High Society on his custom outfits for stage performances so often that the Lims have a custom binder — so stuffed it’s bursting at the seams — dedicated to various sketches, fabric swatches and press photographs of all of Prince’s outfits they made. One design for the global megastar shows a flared jumpsuit with racing stripes down the side of each pant leg and a central zipper, and another is a characteristic purple suit with piping and “basket weave” decorative pockets on the front.

Besides celebrities, High Society also sees regular clients seeking custom suits and other bespoke wardrobe items. The slow and deliberate process is a collaborative conversation with each customer.

Mr. Han, High Society’s master cutter, was first hired by Lim‘s father 36 years ago.

“What we try to offer is the expertise in executing the fit, the construction, and making sure that it’s beautifully made,” says David Lim, adding that he and his team usually see clients three to four times throughout the process, which can last approximately six weeks. “At the end of the day you’re getting something that feels more connected to your personal taste.”

Buying off the rack generally means finding a “standard” fit, but because bodies are inherently varied and decidedly nonstandard, many of High Society’s clients are people who are particularly tall or broad (like athletes) or are very petite, and are better served by the bespoke approach. “We work with a lot of people that need or want custom suits, but then you [also] get people that just want to create something strictly because they want to explore their creativity,” Lim says.

I’m speaking with Lim on the occasion of their new building opening on Beverly Boulevard — a move that not only marks a new space, but a new era.

Lim joined the brand roughly six years ago after his father died in 2018, with a vision to update his family’s shop for the contemporary age. As opposed to keeping High Society the strictly service-oriented business his father began, Lim wanted to make the company a more front-facing brand, inspired in part by his background as a designer and creative director in the denim industry at brands like AG Jeans and Paige Denim. (He also founded his own brand, Kasil Jeans, in 2001.) Under David Lim’s stewardship, the new space is more stylized and geared toward a shopping experience, and though the focus has always been bespoke suiting, there are also racks of samples, including dresses, tops and jackets in unique fabrics and styles.

“When we present our collection, it still represents our ethos and our aesthetic, but now when people come into the space, they get to see a little more of our voice as a brand, whereas before there was never much of a voice for us,” Lim tells me. “People just got what they asked for; it was more of a service in that sense.”

Richard Lim in front of High Society’s original location, around the time he opened his shop.

(Courtesy of High Society)

One element, though, has remained the same: High Society is a close-knit network of family, first and foremost. Lim’s mother, Whaja Lim, is the company’s co-founder, his cousin Sunny Lee is the bookkeeper, and Mr. Han, High Society’s master cutter, was first hired by Lim‘s father 36 years ago.

“He was the first one to start a tailoring business in Los Angeles — there was no other Korean tailoring business,” Whaja Lim says in Korean of her late husband, whose family in Seoul was already involved in this industry. In some cases, when Richard Lim was unable to find experienced tailors in L.A., he had to send some items to Korea to be tailored for his clients in the United States. “A lot more people back then did customized tailoring. It was more favorable [at the time].”

The beautiful precision of tailoring is a centuries old skill that seems to be in the twilight of its popularity as a trade. “The hardest part to predict with this sort of business is how long this generation of traditional techniques will last, because no one else is behind the line taking over that technique,” David Lim says. “If there are people [doing it], they don’t really live in L.A. They live in London, work in Paris ateliers, or maybe New York. In L.A. it’s not very common for people to have the skill set to make proper jackets with the traditional methods. That’s the dilemma we’re facing in this business model. I think there’s this slow end to what we know as proper tailoring.”

Whaja wears High Society outfit and Gentle Monster sunglasses.

(Jennelle Fong / For The Times)

For the Korean immigrant family, starting — and maintaining — a tailoring business in a new city had its challenges. “I would always hear about how things were going at family dinners, and he would constantly look stressed out,” Lim says, reflecting on his father’s role as a business owner. He remembers watching his father get up for work every day and get dressed in a suit, which is a tradition Lim has since left behind, usually opting to wear denim and relaxed shirts in the store instead.

“I have my own personal style, but just because I’m not wearing a suit doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about suits. And I almost feel like it’s less intimidating to sit across from someone who’s dressed a little bit more how [the customer] is dressed.”

Work on High Society’s new space, opening this fall, began in late 2020. When Lim began looking for locations, he walked into Oriental Silk on Beverly Boulevard, a silk fabric store that had been on the block since the 1970s. The connection to the brand was obvious, and he jumped at the chance to buy not only the building, but also the endless yards of deadstock vintage silks the owner had. “This whole place was jam-packed with all the silks from the ’60s, ’70s, ’80s, ’90s,” Lim says. In the nearly five years of renovation, Lim has added a second floor to the building, which boasts a full-size patio for future events, a ping-pong table, offices and, of course, the company’s impressive collection of silks (which are often used for High Society projects and sold to other companies via High Society’s sister brand, Silk Project).

On the first floor, there is a retail environment in the front, and behind a romantic wall of silk organza dividers, a sewing atelier, fully visible thanks to a large workshop window that pulls the curtain back on the labor and precision required to craft the garments people are getting custom-made. In an era of advanced technology and automated processes geared toward speed at the expense of care, it’s refreshing to watch hands moving — drawing sketches, threading machines, handling fabrics.

Lim walks me around the space pre-opening, pointing out the full wall of mirrors — an ode to his late father and the original High Society location, as it was Richard Lim’s favorite element of the old store. The second-floor ceiling has been left intentionally unfinished (you can see the wooden beams) as a nod to the raw silk materials housed just beneath it. And naturally, the ground floor is more polished and arranged with precision, much like the completed suits that are made on that level.

On a Monday afternoon in July, Lim invites me to observe High Society in action. Craig Robinson, actor, comedian and longtime client, was introduced to High Society when Richard Lim was running his business in downtown Los Angeles. Robinson had a suit made for a movie (2007’s “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story”), but was so impressed that he kept going back to get suits made for his personal wardrobe too.

At the shop, Robinson is trying on a cream-colored suit. The casual yet focused conversation between Robinson and Lim, who suggests alteration options and asks leading questions that probe Robinson to not only think about how he looks but how he feels in the suit, is a master class in what it can look like to engage with a customer as both a businessperson and friend. The conversation is tailored to Robinson, much like the suit is.

“A suit off the rack is not always cut for me,” Robinson says. “[Getting a suit from here] — not only does it feel better and look better, [but] when you get quality, everything is better.”

Historically, Hollywood writ large has been one of High Society’s biggest clients. Awards seasons tend to be especially busy, as the team makes suits for various events, red carpet appearances, live telecasts and premieres.

“At one point, we were doing so many things for Hollywood, it used to be pretty constant,” Lim says. “But I think what’s happening in the industry has really dramatically affected all of L.A. There’s just so much of L.A. that is built around that industry. We see it affecting so many different levels of businesses and services.”

Notably, High Society was responsible for making over 100 suits for Arnold Schwarzenegger — Han’s favorite client. And though Richard Lim was allegedly not driven by celebrity, he did get starstruck by the Terminator.

Han was 32 years old when he came to Los Angeles from Seoul and met Richard Lim at a hotel as one of several interviewees for a position as a cutter. He is the only one Lim selected.

“It was a big opportunity to come to America because Korea is very small,” Han says in Korean while continuing to draft with his nubby yellow #2 pencil.

According to Han, “the first 10 years [at High Society] were very difficult because Mr. Lim was very particular.” He was strict and demanded precision, but it is this attention to detail that gained the company its positive, word-of-mouth reputation. Over 20-something years, Han and Richard Lim got into a groove.

At High Society, Han is widely regarded as having the most key role — it’s because of his carefully designed and measured patterns that the suits fit the customer. It’s a very precise process, architectural even. “It’s almost like you’re looking at the blueprint for a building drawn onto drafting paper, except it’s pattern paper and he’s crafting a suit, which is its own kind of structure,” David Lim muses, looking down at the blue-and-white sheets under Han’s steady hand, dotted with faint numbers that inspired High Society’s logo and tissue paper print.

High Society not only represents the enduring legacy of tailoring as a skilled trade, but also of one family — and a network of families — who have carried its mission across decades. Just as tailoring is an intergenerational art form, so too is the story of High Society. In that sense, nostalgia for the authenticity of the past is a key part of what draws clients to the brand.

“We’re like the film of cameras, and the records of music. We are the analog version, and we’re holding onto it as much as possible,” Lim says. “I think that’s the hardest part, is to see how long that grip will last — because that’s the unknown.”

As traditional, human-dependent techniques and analog approaches to creation fade away, it makes the spirit of these increasingly obsolescent facets of society all the more precious.

“When people use film it has this soul to it that digital just doesn’t capture. Everything can be copied and faked, but to know that something is real is what’s going to make it stand apart,” Lim says. “I think down the line we’ll understand that there’s just something missing. It’s that uncanny valley concept.”

In early October, High Society will be opening its doors to the public again, with a new energy, yet rooted in the same spirit. By then, Lim will have stripped the shop’s street-facing windows of the parchment paper that dresses them to obscure the hidden gem of a boutique-cum-atelier within, and he will have replaced it with a pink-colored tint on the windows.

“It’ll be like looking through rose-colored glasses,” he muses, smiling, optimistic about what’s to come.