"I always loved the idea of costumes as a kid. I was always dressing up.”
For most people, the memory of their first-ever job is likely a distant one. It may have been a summer spent stacking shelves, pulling pints, or filing papers while simultaneously clock-watching. We tolerated the monotony because those early jobs offered something valuable: a first taste of independence from our parents and the freedom that came with earning our own money. Few of us, however, can claim we still work for the same company.
Sam Emmett differs in two significant ways. Not only does he still work for the company he started in, but his sense of independence has always been tied to a unique paradox. His father was not simply his dad; he was also his boss.
If popular shows like Succession have taught us anything, it is that working alongside family can create it's own set of unique problems. Sibling rivalries, questions of hierarchy, the challenge of finding the right role for each family member, and expectations arriving long before readiness to name a few. Another question emerges: when your childhood and future career all grow from the same place, how do you know which parts of yourself were inherited, influenced or genuinely your own?
Listening to Sam speak about the family business, it becomes difficult to imagine the experience as anything other than harmonious. There is admiration in the way he describes the company and the people within it that, by the end of the conversation, leaves you half-wondering whether there are any vacancies or perhaps opportunities to be unofficially adopted into the fold.
The company is Emmett London, a menswear business specialising in shirts. Yet, its story begins, well… unexpectedly outside of London. Before the storefronts of King's Road and Jermyn Street, there was a garage in Switzerland. Sam's father, originally from Australia, was working as a bespoke cutter when he decided to create his own shirts. However, he lacked the very crucial showroom in which he could exhibit his work.
"There was a garage, and my mother, a trained architect, converted it into a little sort of showroom," Sam explains.
The origin story carries an almost romantic quality: two creatives working with what they had at hand, hoping that a complementary skill set and a degree of ingenuity would be enough to overcome the financial constraints most small businesses face.
As the business gathered momentum, the family relocated to London in 1993, where they secured their first permanent storefront on King's Road. That same year, they welcomed their first child, prompting Sam to joke that it was a "busy year" for his parents. There is a notable symmetry in the timing, one that blurs the line between family and working life from the outset. Both the family and the business were in their infancy; each demanded its own share of attention and care, and both took shape and expanded simultaneously in the years that followed.
It was in those following few years that Sam arrived.
From an early age, he fondly remembers being surrounded by fabrics, collars, colours, prints and customers. "A lot of childhood was sort of in the store," he says. At the time, "it was just [his] dad in the store," meaning his father welcomed an extra pair of hands, no matter how little they may be. Then what began as the backdrop of his own childhood gradually extended to his friends as well. While other children disappeared to parks, living rooms, and after-school clubs, Sam and his friends headed toward the King's Road shop, unpacking boxes and stacking shelves.
"After school, we'd all hang out there," he remembers. "We'd be sort of messing around, trying things on."
For the friends who followed him there, the shop offered something unique: access to a world they would not ordinarily have been invited into. It was a place of customers, responsibility, work and professionalism, typically reserved for adults. Yet the already blurred boundaries between family life and business life meant they were welcomed in, gaining an early glimpse of adulthood.
It's important to note that fashion was never imposed on Sam, or at least it never felt that way. When I ask whether growing up in the business naturally pushed him towards it, he pauses before explaining that his first love was not clothing, but costume.
"I always loved the idea of costumes as a kid," he says. "I was always dressing up."
Working alongside his father, therefore, never felt like an obligation. Instead, it felt like an extension of his existing interests. During those formative years, the shop became both a playground and a classroom.
"We've always had friends involved. It's quite a fun creative outlet because there are so many different facets to it.”

As Sam grew older, the markers of maturity arrived in slightly unusual forms. While many associate adulthood with a first shave, driving licence or a first pint, Sam's progression was also measured by the growing responsibilities entrusted to him within the business. The afternoons spent restocking and trying things on gradually evolved to more serious work. One of his earliest jobs, in his early teens, involved photographing shirts for the company's newly developed website. More significant than the task itself, however, was what came with it.
"That's when I started getting paid," he recalls.
This crossing of the threshold of adolescence, though impactful in significance, wasn't a hefty challenge for him. He was already familiar with the terrain, which arguably made him the perfect employee.
Today, his responsibilities look rather different. Emmett London now operates from two storefronts on King's Road and Jermyn Street, and Sam works full-time within the business. I ask whether, upon joining the company full-time, he had noticed the expansion affecting the family dynamic. The answer is - surprisingly little, it seems- with the working culture appearing largely unchanged.
"There are probably only seven people in the company," Sam explains. The result of a small team is a working life that feels fluid rather than rigid. A single day might involve one moment: he may be conducting made-to-measure fittings with clients upstairs on Jermyn Street; the next, photographing products against the studio backdrop tucked behind us, before heading across London to help organise stock or oversee new collections at the King's Road location. It is precisely this variety of work that appears to energise him.
"Each day is quite different to the last," he says, "You're just sort of running around... which is great."
Although everyone is expected to contribute, people naturally gravitate towards their strengths. One brother produces much of the company's graphic artwork and illustrations, used either on the website or on the storefront window. That collaborative spirit extends beyond the immediate family, with friends (some even dating back to childhood) drifting in and out of the business over the years, helping with everything from summer shop work to photography, graphics, and social media. "It becomes a bit of a nice collective over the years," Sam says. "Not everyone all at once, but sort of bits and bobs, dipping in and out."
A welcome helping hand (perhaps paired with a bit of purposeful childminding) gradually set the ethos for a wider creative network surrounding the company that still carries today.
“Everyone's got slightly different preferences. Some people like a shirt to be very fitted, some people like it to be very baggy. It's really interesting seeing what they do with it.”

The relationship between Sam and the business appears to have been reciprocal. While the family business undoubtedly helped shape the person he became, I find myself wondering how he, in turn, had helped shape Emmett London. Asked where he feels he has made his greatest contribution to the company, he gestures towards the studio behind us.
"The main one is definitely the made-to-measure side of things," he explains.
In contrast to the shop floor below - all dark woods, deep tones and softly lit displays - the studio space feels distinctly more contemporary. Bright, open and functional, it is lined with drawers of fabric swatches, buttons and measuring tapes, with dress forms displaying half-finished garments.
Although Emmett London has long been known for its off-the-peg shirting, much of Sam's contribution has centred on exploring a more personal experience. "Giving clients that option to choose and design their own thing with them," as Sam puts it.
The made-to-measure approach feels consistent with the business's established ethos: welcoming collaboration. However, the impact extends beyond the shirts. Working closely with customers has given Sam direct access to the opinions of people wearing the clothes.
Through fittings and consultations, Sam gains insight into what clients are looking for, how they dress, and, increasingly, what influences their tastes. Popular culture, in particular television and film, finds its way into conversations and regularly shapes demand. Searching for an example, he discusses the impact of Peaky Blinders, and he remembers "a lot of people coming in asking for that sort of style," particularly "a penny kind of collar, sort of a bit more curved."

The role also offered him more in-depth conversations with customers from across the world, each bringing their own preferences and styling habits. While Emmett London might offer garments rooted in British design traditions, Sam comments, "what's interesting is the way that they might then put it together." These examples demonstrate how closely fashion, culture and customer behaviour remain intertwined, and having that direct information helps the brand move with the trends.
Having developed an early fascination with costume, the underlying appeal of made-to-measure feels remarkably similar. Both begin with a person and an idea of who they want to be; the clothing helps bring it to life. Made-to-measure offers an almost limitless number of possibilities. A customer may want something subtle, or something far more flamboyant, but in either case, the process creates space for individuality and creative self-expression with Sam's assistance.
However, ironically, some of Sam's most valuable contributions may have come from stepping away from the business altogether. In his early twenties, he spent several years in Australia, wanting to explore his paternal heritage and working for a casual menswear company. The experience exposed him to a very different side of the industry, one that pulled him away from the world of traditional, formal menswear he had grown up around. "That sort of changed my outlook a bit," he reflects.
Returning to London, he brought that perspective back with him.
Although exploring a relaxed approach to menswear was not entirely new to Emmett London, Australia gave Sam a fresh appreciation for it and the confidence to build upon the idea. At the time, neither Sam nor his family could have anticipated quite how useful that perspective and experience would soon become.
"I think I'd be very much like my father. I'd give them the choice. It would be great if they wanted to be involved, but it would be up to them.”

During the period when offices closed, London's streets emptied and international travel largely ground to a halt; there was a particular curiosity surrounding how the city's tailoring industry would survive. Savile Row, arguably Britain's most famous tailoring district, found itself the subject of increasingly bleak headlines, while neighbouring Jermyn Street faced many of the same questions.
The concerns were just. Much of tailoring is built upon face-to-face interaction. Clients cannot properly appreciate fabrics on a screen, and colours should be tested in person under different lighting conditions in direct contact with the customer's tones. Equally, British menswear has long benefited from London's position as an international destination. For many, a trip to Jermyn Street or Savile Row and the act of having a suit made were part of the attraction. Then there was the disappearance of office culture, the cancellation of weddings, and the postponement or pushback of formal events.
Against this backdrop, I ask Sam about the period.
Sam's recollection is notably measured. "Obviously, Covid affected sales," he says, before turning his attention to how the business adapted. Online sales became a focal point, existing content was revisited and reused, and online communication with customers increased. More than anything, however, he points to customer loyalty.
"A very lucky thing," he explains, "is that our retention rate is great."
Gratitude is an underlying note in his answer. The retention rate feels less like a business metric and more like evidence of the relationships the company has built over the years. During a period when many people were tightening their spending and buying less, customers continued to return, choosing to support a small business they valued.

Sam, through conversations with customers, also notes a broader shift in how people dress post Covid. "People are dressing more casually," he explains, with office wear taking a notable shift towards the more relaxed. Full suits became less common, while customers increasingly looked for garments that could move comfortably between professional and social settings. Having already spent years in Australia immersed in a more relaxed side of menswear, he recognised a shift already underway and helped the business move with it.
The influence is perhaps most visible in how the brand presents itself today. Emmett London's Instagram is filled with colourful and unique shirts worn beyond the environments traditionally associated with tailoring. They appear on holidays, at restaurants and during weekends away, highlighting a sense that good menswear need not be reserved for offices, weddings or formal occasions.
Perhaps what makes the imagery particularly effective is that much of it is genuine. The friends appearing throughout the photographs are often exactly that: real friends. The holidays are real, and the photographer is also part of Sam's inner circle. Even the interview that led me to Sam offers a small example. Vincent Davies, who nominated him for this project, arrived proudly wearing an Emmett London shirt himself. It was a reminder that the people surrounding the business are not simply helping to market the brand; they genuinely believe in it.
In many ways, Emmett London's social imagery reflects a wider shift amongst a new generation of London tailors. The goal is not simply to make clothing more versatile, but to make tailoring itself more accessible. Traditionally, tailoring has sometimes carried an air of exclusivity; at its most extreme, not entirely dissimilar to the atmosphere of a members-only gentleman's club. There is now a clear effort amongst young craftspeople to demonstrate that quality craftsmanship need not come at the expense of warmth or approachability. If the future of menswear lies in this balance of tradition with accessibility, Emmett London already seems comfortably centred.
My next question, however, is a more personal one: where does Sam see himself in that future?
Australia continues to occupy a place in his imagination of possibilities. He speaks about the possibility of returning one day with his wife. However, whether that would involve establishing something entirely his own or creating an international extension of Emmett London remains undecided.
Before we finish, I ask whether he would want his own children to become involved in the family business. His answer is immediate: much like his father before him, he would leave the decision entirely up to them.
Not all of Sam's siblings chose to enter the business; while his brothers became involved in various capacities, his sister pursued a different path. The opportunity was always there - the choice remained their own.
Perhaps it is this idea of choice that answers the question I found myself returning to throughout our conversation. Of course, some might argue that growing up surrounded by fabrics, colour and design inevitably played a role in nurturing Sam's fascination with costume. Yet what feels significant is that, even as a child, he appears to have recognised it as something distinctly his own. Perhaps the answer lies not in nature or nurture, but in the balance of the two.
Emmett London appears to benefit when its family members gravitate towards the areas that feel most natural to them. For Sam, that became made-to-measure, customer relationships and personalisation. His decision to spend time in Australia similarly exposed him to a different side of menswear that would later influence the company's direction during uncertain times. Rather than following a predetermined path through the business, he was encouraged to pursue what genuinely interested him and, in time, bring those experiences back into the fold.
For all the discussion of shirts, tailoring and family business, the most important thing Sam may have inherited was the freedom to choose his own path within a nurturing environment; something he seems equally determined to pass on.
You can explore Emmett London's latest collections, made-to-measure services, and discover more about the family business via their website and Instagram.