It wasn’t my idea to rent a tuxedo. Someone talked me into it. It would be good for my image, he said. My image was crying out for something more dignified than the ancient blue suit with the pin stripes hanging in my closet. Clothes, after all, have to make a statement nowadays and all my old suit has been saying to me lately is, “Leave me alone!”
I walked by the men’s store a time or two and gathering up my nerve, headed in. A young man listened to me explain what I needed and realizing the importance of the request, summoned his boss from the back of the store.
“This image thing is working already,” I thought. Just the mention of a tuxedo has started to bring me respect.
Together, the clothier and I leafed through a picture book showing all the various models of tuxedo available, much like a prospective car buyer and salesman discussing the new fall lineup. First we looked at the hardtops, convertibles and top-of-the-line models and then at the compacts. I chose a black sedan.
The negotiations on price followed. When he said the cost would be $80.25, I assumed the store rented them by the month and was shocked to find out I would be able to keep it for only one day at that amount. The last thing I rented that cost that much took unleaded gasoline.
But this suit came with the works. Cuff links, studs instead of buttons to fasten the shirt, a fancy bow tie, something called a cummerbund and suspenders. When I first tried it on at the store, I ran into a few minor hitches. I had trouble doing up the pants but finally got them hooked, put on the frilly shirt and jacket and went out to be admired. I was fairly happy with the fit, I said, but something was wrong with the front of the trousers which seemed to sag and crinkle. On inspection, the clothier found I had fastened the waist band to a suspender button instead of the pants button it was intended for. I didn’t feel embarrassed at all.
Finally outfitted, I admired myself in the full-length mirror and marvelled at how, until that moment, I had never realized how much like Engelbert Humperdinck I look. An irresistible urge to sing a verse or two of Blue Spanish Eyes came over me. Whatever a fandango is, I wanted to do one.
When I now consider the respect a tuxedo brought me on the day of the big event and on the next day – I wore it all day Sunday – I will never again say $80.25 is too much to pay. For one night, I moved up the social ladder a class or two. I felt like tipping anyone who did anything for me and I walked straight and proud like I imagine a man of refinement should walk. I felt sorry for the poor guy next to me at the meal that night who wore only an ordinary suit but I resisted the urge to toss him a dollar or two.
When we sat down to the banquet, I knew the tuxedo had been a stroke of genius. Before me, around my plate, lay various pieces of cutlery, including four spoons. I am not sure why one person with only one mouth needs four spoons but I am glad that I was properly outfitted to deal in a dignified way with the perplexing dilemma of trying to decide which one went with which food. At least in a tuxedo, you look like you probably know things like that.
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The night carried on without incident. The tux was a hit even though there were a hundred others in the room. I felt like a millionaire.
In the morning, though the day was sunny and warm, I couldn’t resist wearing it again to an out-of-town party for one of my nieces.
“You look nice, Uncle Jim,” she said.
“Thanks,” I answered her. “I rented this suit just for you.”
And on the way home, I went into the coffee shop I go to every night, just to soak up a little more respect and awe before Monday returned with its blue jeans, T-shirts, running shoes and reality.
“Get up, dress up, show up” is an expression someone put forward as the keys to success. I don’t know if going out into the world dressed like a king made me a success, but for a few hours, at least, I felt like one.
©1987 Jim Hagarty
