The Suit

[Birdboy 10482]

I pursed my lips at my reflection in the mirror. The suit I was wearing had seen better days. It was rumpled and there was a faint smudge of makeup just visible on the shoulder. But those things can be easily fixed. The jacket, which pulled tightly over my newly discovered muscles after a summer of working out, and my pants, which were uncomfortably tight after some good livin'.. those were a little harder to make right.

 

I've never really been a suit kind of guy. I've always had one at the back of my closet for weddings, funerals, and the very occasional meeting with very important clients. But we live in more casual times, and I move in more casual circles now. So when I knew that I was going to be attending a Very Significant Event, I also knew that it would be time to wear one again.

 

It had been a good long time since I pulled this old suit from out of it's lair at the back of my closet. It never was a fancy suit. It had come from a department store, on sale, the crime of its purchase aided and abetted by the blandishments of an obsequious salesman. It had never really fit me, even when new and it was already a little out of date by the time it had reached the discount rack I took it off of. It had the fine feel of only the very best polyester blends.

 

Yes, it was a dog of a suit.

 

I've always liked nice clothes, as much as the next guy. But a good suit had always seemed like a needless luxury. Something that just took up space, destined to spend its days uselessly hidden away at the back of the closet. But now, looking at myself in the mirror, something clicked.

 

Suddenly I wanted something more. I wanted something nicer. I wanted something to make me feel strong, confident and in control. I wanted to kick ass and take names. I wanted armor for the modern world. I wanted a good suit.

 

As is my nature, I did my homework. I read about suits. I learned of Canali, of Kiton, of Brioni and others. I read about worsted wool. I read endless debates about two button versus three, of peaked lapels and notched lapels. Rear vent, side vents, no vent. I shook my head to clear it, and I could almost hear my sanity rattling free in my head. No, I'd read enough. It's time to put theory into practice. It was time to go shopping.

 

I noticed his insouciant grin before anything else. Another casual worker at his McJob, putting in time before moving on from the tony men's clothes store I was standing in. I took a second glance at him. My god, he might be queerer than a three dollar bill, but damned if he didn't look great. Well, here goes.

 

"I'm looking for a suit."

 

He snapped to attention, assessing me closely up and down with a flinty eye. "42 regular. 34 inch sleeve. 16 inch neck. I'd say.. 34 inch inseam." Hmm, maybe I'd been to quick to snap to conclusions. He had been dead on.

 

A brief discussion followed, where I told him what I was looking for and what I wanted to spend. He pursed his lips and walked over the a rack in back as I followed. He reached in and held up a suit.

 

I touched the jacket lapel. It felt as if it had been woven from the finest inner thigh fuzz from the purest of Italian virgins. It was the richest deep gray of the doves of Trafalgar Square. He took the jacket off of the hanger and held it up for me to slip on.

 

I put the jacket on and looked in the mirror. It fit perfectly. I barely recognized myself.

 

"It looks about right. The sleeves are a touch long. Why don't you try the pants on?" I went into the change room and came out again. I looked in the mirror again and I couldn't believe my eyes.

 

The salesman took a piece of chalk and some pins from his pocket and started to fuss with the sleeves and pants. But I already felt like Don Draper on a good day, minus the greasy kid stuff. I wanted to light a cigarette and pour myself a dry martini.

 

Galahad knew no greater joy discovering his grail, than I did with my new-found suit. It will be ready Friday.