Last Easter, the bag designer Jas Sehmbi opened the new incarnation of his shop Doors, a smart new showroom for his much-loved brand Jas M.B., in Rivington Street, east London. Geographically, it's only a few miles from the streets where Jas - who arrived in the UK aged four, having previously lived in Africa and then India - started out, and closer still to the location of his former Soho store. In every other respect, it's proof of how far he's come. "For years and years," Sehmbi says, "all I tried to do was create interesting bags for British men." That project began just a few months after he completed the art foundation course he'd begun after school, when Sembhi opened his very first shop, a leather goods store in Ilford, Essex. Three years later, he'd packed it in, convinced that he had to educate himself and return on a grander scale. "In '88, I decided to go to Italy because I wanted to learn about the leather as the starting point for making bags. On my first day, as I came out the station at Florence, I thought, 'Oh shit, the energy these people have, it's incredible.' And I ended up standing there for three hours to see how they move, how they talk, how they carry themselves, how they dress." He liked the little details, like the way the Italian gents always wore tees to absorb the sweat their poly-cotton shirts generated. "I thought, 'This makes sense,' and from then on I always made sure that I wore a T-shirt under my shirt." He also found out about leather and began importing bags from Italy. "But British men men wouldn't wear them. They were a bit too campified." Sehmbi still wasn't going to give up. "I thought we needed something a bit more casual and acceptable and wondered what kind I could make that would be acceptable for British men. At about the same time, I realised that people were wearing these T-shirts with record label logos and T-shirts can't even be worn one day or two days a week. I saw that and thought, 'Why don't I offer this industry a bag which can have a giant-sized logo on the front and can be worn every day?' Back then, everyone wanted to be a DJ." To cut a long story short, sometime DJ Jas designed a bag of suitable dimensions, borrowed £500 to get the equipment and produced a prototype in his garage. Six months later, with stock made on his three sewing machines and sourced out to home-working seamstresses, he'd made £30,000. Then, a London label called Slammin' Vinyl came to him and told him it would take as many as he could produce. The rest wasn't just history; in the 15 years since that breakthrough, Jas has become a byword for a whole range of subtly branded bags for men and women that have a knack of looking luxurious and elegant without ever being fussy. He's always got a new avenue of curiosity to explore, whether it's this season's run of high-end rucksacks or the new expansion zips and iPad sleeves he's worked into bags elsewhere, and his subsequent inventions and innovations have been admired and ripped off by rival brands more times than he can count - and by rivals from London to Tokyo and Shanghai, where he has always had a huge following. "It almost felt against the grain in the beginning, making here and selling in the far east, rather than the other way round." Now, though, he points out, "Made in England"-awareness has made his ethos seemed more at home and his local sourcing more glamorous. "I travel 20 odd times a year, and I still think London is the most creative city in the world," he says. "We Londoners don't always notice it, because we can walk round a bit robotically and be preoccupied with our work. But Italians wanna be English, New Yorkers… the Japanese men can't look English, but their dress sense and accessories all originate from English traditions. The energy was always here. It's just we haven't always been willing to celebrate it."

After seven years of working in the mega-houses of Paris and Milan, Alistair Carr has finally come home. First there was Marni, then Chloe, and finally the role of womenswear designer at Balenciaga. Now we're seeing the returns on the role he was appointed to last March: creative director at Pringle of Scotland. Carr first became aware of Pringle as a slap round the face: at the age of six, he was on a golf course with his nan and stared so intently at the men in their crazy Argyle jumpers that he got a telling off and a clip round the ear. Minus the telling off, my own recollections are similar, and yours may be too: yellow and pink diamonds,"madly patterned v-necks, the classic early '80s Pringle look!" But the 200-year-old company has a multifaceted heritage, and there is more, much more, to be discovered and redefined. "I think it's important to remember what's been done, but it's also important to not do it again," says Carr. "It's about having an intelligent approach to keep the brand relevant." That is already in evidence. Carr isn't a knitwear designer by trade, but so far that seems to be his strength. He's trying new ideas for stitches, twisting knitwear (literally sometimes), having no preconceptions, and making things work. This year, for spring/summer and then pre-fall, there are intarsia knits with flashes of bright colour, playful bright variants on the classic diamonds, super-fine cashmere ribbed jerseys, light cotton blazers with back panels entirely in knit, garments that do the layering for you and a Chelsea boot hybrid with Puma soles. Colour, contrasts and textures are all remixed to bring things up to date. The day after Boxing Day, on a rainy afternoon, Carr was in the Pringle offices in Sloane Street, Chelsea, enjoying a rare quiet day to reflect on the next women's collection. For the modern designer at a big house, the sheer volume of shows on the 21st-century fashion calendar mean moments of reflection are at a premium. "Literally, it was the women's show, straight onto women's pre-fall, men's pre-fall, men's show, women's resort, men's resort. Eight collections a year, plus collaborations and campaigns and blah blah blah .. a lot of people complain about that but it's the way it is and I've got such gratitude that I get to do this. It's not just a job for me." That much is self-evident; there's no mistaking Carr's commitment as he speaks, nor the way he takes all these challenges in his stride. Backstage in Milan a couple of weeks later during the January men's shows, Carr's vision for the label seemed more assured still, as he showed an autumn/winter collection classic of sober pieces in classic sober colours. There were also hints of something more youthful and rough, echoes of less casual, more confrontational British style references, chief among them skinheads. Amid the cashmere polo necks there were red leather trousers, knitted long johns, thick-soled leather lace-ups and boots with industrial fasteners and bolts holding the cord laces. There were strong knitwear ideas, too, like waffle stitch jumpers with contrasting colours. Referential? Yes. Retro? Absolutely not. In fact, the only nod to the Abigail's Party era was the solid gold superstar Carr chose for the soundtrack: Barry White.

Step back into 1920s New York with photographer and writer Guerre. He's taken on the tricky sartorial tightrope of channeling a by-gone era that can often end up looking as if you're wandering around looking for the next fancy dress party. But Guerre makes his look work with little details like the pocket square, a mix of blue tones and his beard.

Chaps these days are embracing dressing up as dapper gentlemen. We've been spying the pocket square (overtaking the bow tie as the quirky accessory of choice), the hat increasingly being donned and the rise of the everyday suit. We tip our hats to you gents, long may the suited an booted look reign.

Because: Do you have a website or a blog?

Guerre: Yes I do, it's called guerreisms.com.

What's your favourite thing to shoot?

Great style. People that know to combine great elements and aren't necessarily dressed in labels.

Guerre is wearing:

Harrods jacket
Banana Republic turtleneck
Custom made trousers from a tailor in New York
Borsalino hat
Ralph Lauren pocket square