Entrepreneur Finds Perfect Fit
Seeing Lack of Retail in Prince George's, Clothier Set Out to Suit Up Big Shots

By Chris Kirkham
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, December 4, 2006

As custom tailor to some of the most prominent African American political and business leaders in the Washington area, Kwab Asamoah knows Michael Steele has very long arms and lean shoulders for his body type.

He knows Maryland Sen.-elect C. Anthony Muse's right shoulder is lower than his left, and he wants longer cuffs on shirts for preaching, shorter for politicking. Former Washington Redskin Rick "Doc" Walker likes three-button suits in basic blues and blacks. Other clients include ABC 7 News anchor Leon Harris, who wore a gray, pinstriped suit on the air Friday night; Rushern Baker, who ran against Prince George's County Executive Jack B. Johnson in the Democratic primary; and Pepco regional president Thomas Graham. Maryland Lt. Gov.-elect Anthony Brown said he is planning to come in and get fitted for a tuxedo.

"You should feel empowered by apparel," says Asamoah, 33, with a slight accent of Twi, his native Ghanaian language. "People say they want a European cut; they want an American cut. No, no, you want your cut."

As president and founder of Kustom Looks Clothier in Landover, Asamoah found opportunity in the lack of high-end chain retail in Prince George's County. He built his formal-wear business in less than two years from a shoestring operation out of his bedroom in Bowie. Baker frequently touted him as a model of entrepreneurial success in campaign stops last fall.

"One of the problems is you've either got to go to Baltimore or D.C. to get clothes like that," Baker said. "Here's a guy who's starting out in the county, doing what exactly we want."

Asamoah wants to take his niche success and build something bigger, but it will not be easy. Established clothing retailers, such as Macy's and Jos. A. Bank in Bowie Town Center, are setting up shop in the once-ignored county. The competition is likely to put new pressure on his young business. Asamoah is undaunted, confident local residents will stay loyal to his black-owned business.

"I used to be awed over Brooks Brothers. Now I want to be the 'Brown Brothers,' " he said.

Growing up in the tropical, dusty village of Kumasi, Ghana, in the 1970s, Asamoah said he was fascinated by uniforms: the white-crested dress shirts of schoolchildren, the traditional kinte cloth worn by professionals, with vibrant patterns and colors representing changing seasons.

Apparel was a status symbol, a way to distinguish oneself.

Thirty years later the uniforms are different. Asamoah's custom suits, made in a Bangkok factory and shipped to his Landover office, start at $685 and can range upward of $1,000.

More than a year ago, he said he had a comfortable six-figure salary as an IT consultant, most recently at Freddie Mac. But his true passion was for salesmanship, he said.

During an earlier stint at Morgan State University near Baltimore, where he graduated early with degrees in physics and engineering, he spent much of his time selling soap and cleaning products for the direct-marketing company Amway. He skipped parties and lost contact with friends, many of whom thought he had joined a cult or "some sort of door-to-door pyramid scheme."

"A lot of people thought he was crazy," said Wylace Liggon, Asamoah's freshman-year roommate at Morgan State who joined Kustom Looks as a partner late last year.

Asamoah did well enough that he purchased a 32-acre farm near Brandywine that he dubbed AshantiLand, named after his ancestral tribe in Ghana. It became a hub for big parties, including "Blackstock," a summer 2002 festival.

A friend, Dwayne Rawlings, was known for his flashy suits. Asamoah approached him about the maker, and Rawlings put him in touch with Umesh "Sammy" Balani, the owner of a Bangkok factory that produces high-end formal clothing.

Asamoah bought a few suits for himself, and Balani mentioned that he was looking for a pipeline into the U.S. market.

Asamoah's consulting job at the time paid well but he missed chasing the sale. Curious, he asked the factory owner how he could help. In a hastily arranged trip a year later, he met Balani in New York City and got a two-hour crash course on the tailoring business.

Just measure the clients and send some photographs, he was told, and Balani would take care of the rest. He saw it as an interesting side project, so he persuaded a few friends to try it out.

As promised, the suits came back a few weeks later, but something got lost in the translation. Pants were too short, jackets didn't fit and several suits had to be sent back. One of his first clients was a vice president at Freddie Mac, his former employer, and it took several tries to get the suit right.

"People had an interest in the product, but the product was terrible," Asamoah said. "In the first 12 months of this business, anybody else would have gotten out."

Over time, he perfected the measurement system, plotting measurement points all along the torso to ensure shirts, jackets and pants fit to form. He devised an online form that sends the numbers directly to the factory workers, none of whom speak English. He circled different body types to indicate a client's posture, such as "stomach out" or "shoulders forward."

He explains suits in terms of angles and curves, the way light bounces off ties and silks. It sounds like one of his physics classes from college.

"It's all about science, electromagnetic theory . . . it's a formula," he says, gesturing at the pinstriped suits and silk blouses on display in the store. "I'm a nerd by trade, don't let it fool you."

He and his partner have only recently been able to start drawing a steady salary. At his house in Bowie, he still has an alteration bin where he keeps clothes to be sent for alteration, right next to his laundry basket.

The Amway experience influenced the way he approaches clients. Up until this past spring, when he got his store near the New Carrollton Orange Line stop, he was mostly making house calls and showing up at Prince George's benefit dinners and business galas.

Most clients said they met him after being drawn to his flashy suits.

"He's all over the place, there's no question about it," said Pepco president Graham, who has worked with Asamoah on two suits and a line of golfing wear. "He's someone you just want to work with. At the end of the day he just wants to satisfy you."

"It's so convenient and so cool to have somebody come to your office and your house," said Harris of ABC 7 News. "You can get addicted to that kind of stuff, especially if you're a clothes-horse kind of person."

On a recent evening in his store -- an old dance studio tucked away in a corporate office park -- David Byrd, an aide to Jack Johnson, tried on the first of three suits he was buying, fumbling with a small jacket pocket. It's a watch pocket, Asamoah explains.

"A watch pocket? I've never seen that before," Byrd says, looking at himself in the mirror.

"Welcome to high fashion, Mr. Byrd," Asamoah says with a laugh.

Byrd met Asamoah and his partner Liggon at a dinner last year, at the time unaware that his predecessor in the county, Alfonso Cornish, and another aide, Derrick Green, were also customers.

"If you wear this and you start getting compliments, you know to let us know," he says to a female customer who walks out with a red silk blouse.

"If a guy has never had a custom suit before, it's like he's never been out to fine dining," says Doc Walker, who wears the suits on "Doc Walker's ProView" on News Channel 8. "People can tell the difference. It's your game-day outfit."

Sitting at his desk in a three-button, beige glen plaid suit with a baby-blue pinstripe, measuring tape around his neck, Asamoah says that despite the high-profile clients he has nabbed so far, his target market is more modest.

"At the end of the day, we want to serve the corporate 9-to-5 professional," he says. "Whether it's Michael Steele or Anthony Williams, in the end you're human. Everybody needs clothes."