Kids are commonly curious about other cultures. But as a child growing up in Aomori, Japan, Daiki Suzuki—creator of Engineered Garments and the designer behind Woolrich Woolen Mills—was downright smitten with America and its sportswear. His fascination with everything from prep-school blazers to blue-collar uniforms and all things denim only grew through the years. He became so enamored, in fact, that he even learned about the industrial techniques used to mass-produce such classics. Automation and mechanization, ultra-efficient stitching room floors, easily churning out massive runs of technically complex patterns and designs—here, some see quantity over quality. But Suzuki noted something different: subtle flaws, weaknesses, and character. "The clothes had a natural, postmodernist, deconstructed quality about them," he says. "If a button falls off, you sew another one on, but it probably won't match."

Now here's a paradox: a designer obsessed with the assembly line who scoffs at perfection. "It's hard for most people to understand," explains Suzuki, far taller than his average countryman at six feet or so and apt to wear chambray shirts and canvas coveralls to work. "People think that if it's a good fabric and a good construction, then it's a good garment. But it's not necessarily. You can have good fabric and not great construction, and still get a really beautiful garment. That's what we build." Small touches elevate each piece beyond a straight workingman's cut. And if the buttons, pockets, and hoods that Suzuki so adores fray or fall off, that's just part of how use translates to ownership. These are, as Suzuki puts it, "clothes that survive with you and become a second skin."

Sporty jackets—like the Bedford, with its peak lapels—-intimate Ivy League style. The Fishing Shirt takes its utilitarian pockets from a wader's vest, but could easily slide over a button-down and tie, or a T-shirt and jeans. These pieces—along with the hats and other shirts that complete the line—are made in America's textile capital, New York City, where Engineered finds its most ardent fans. This fall, the company is offering its first suit, a natty gray wool number that manages to retain the brand's rugged appeal while venturing into office-space territory. "It has been a progression," Suzuki says of what he considers Engineered Garments' natural next step.

Never one to mono-task, Suzuki is also juggling various side projects at any given moment. His latest collaboration is with Woolrich Woolen Mills, a capsule menswear line meant to revive the 177-year-old American sleeping giant. It launched in boutiques in Europe and Japan last year and is now making its way into Bergdorf Goodman. As designer, Suzuki looked to the Woolrich heritage first, diving into the company's archives and sorting through the available fabrics at its Pennsylvania mill before spinning out a series of urban lumberjack coats and shirts. The pieces are useful come the weekend—whether you spend it on city streets or tucked away in the country. "I grew up with Woolrich, so I have a real respect and admiration for the history," Suzuki says. "I wanted to take it back to American sportswear in its heyday and glory."—BENJAMIN JERVEY

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