The Costume, (I Mean) The suit

Clothes make NOT the man, Love, Caring, Benevolence is what makes the man, not linen or polyester…

…but I’m the Father of the Bride and as such I have to be in costume like everyone else at this wedding shindig.

Here’s the issue though, I’m 67 years old and up until now HAVE NEVER OWNED OR WORE A SUIT.

Never.

Possibly at my First Communion but I can’t find any photos of the event so who knows, I was 10, my mother and I never got along so I’m betting I was in the whitest kid communion suit she could find.

Possibly why I never got in another one, white or not, in my life. For the record I got married in a Sport Coat over a turtleneck and with cowboy boots on…

…and that was 45 years ago so I’ve come to believe what you get married in has no impact on the marriage which is pretty much what the wedding gig is about in the first place.

But…

…you know.

Putting lipstick on a pig

Never eat in a diner that has a skinny cook.

Never buy a car from someone who doesn’t drive.

Never buy a suit from a salesman wearing a bad suit…and one is standing right next to me.

The first place we, Barb and I, stop for our costume shopping is a “Men’s” store that advertises a lot mainly because I think you have to do that when you exclude half of the humans on the planet with money to spend…women.

Me I’d just call the place: “SUITS,” and let the folks who are looking for “SUITS” come in and figure out for themselves if they are in the right place or not.

Just saying.

As you go into the store the right side of it seems to be for “Men’s” who are in shape and want to spend a lot of money to prove it.

Not me.

The left side is for “Men’s” who are either tall and wide or short and wide (me), and cheap (me).

Next to me is a salesMEN’S who is trying to get me to the middle of the store where “we can custom make a suit exactly for you.”

The last thing I want in life is a “suit exactly” for me because if I have to wear the thing I want to look “exactly” like someone who doesn’t look like me, short and wide, because all my clothes must be custom then because when I wear them I look “exactly” like me.

You want to sell me a suit make it so I look “exactly” tall and skinny and possibly 45 years old.

Dude salesMEN’S that’s CUSTOM!

“Well then we have these.”

Apparently I’ve made a faux pas since I haven’t moved from the short/wide $300-suit aisle.

“Try this.”

I do.

The salesMEN’S went way wide, and long. The suit coat sleeves are just a tiny bit long since they go past my pinky finger, the coat hangs mid-thigh and I have bigger shoulder pads than most NFL players.

“Um, do you fix this.”

“You mean tailoring, yes. That’s extra of course.”

Barb: “Does it come with suspenders…”

“No, but we sell them here…”

“…and does the pants have buttons in them for the suspenders.”

“No but we can put them in.”

Me: “Does it cost to add the buttons.”

“Yes sir.”

“Huh, how much.”

“$10-dollars…a button.”

$60 for buttons, I look at Barb and say this, “Let’s go.”

And so we do, leave, maybe it’s best it’s just for “Men’s” because from what I’ve seen, women tend to wear way more buttons then us “Men’s.”

Just saying.

Next up…

…the MALL!

Lipstick & pig: 2

Once again I’m in…

…the short and wide department, this time in a store for all us humans.

I’m starting to dig this place because…

…me and them are on the same page about these things most people call “Suits,” except for the people who make them and dig what the things really are.

“Hey Don, look at this, why don’t you try this on.”

Over the costume rack I give Barb the universal look from a husband standing in a store where you have to try stuff on instead of taking off real clothes and just putting PJ’s on.

“Come on, THIS IS YOU.”

And so after a slow walk her way I discover….dang, she’s right…

…it is me, and OMG…they have TWO of THIS IS YOU of me…

Leopard spots, or EVEN BETTER, a white sequined jacket.

Dear Gawd I would have “dressed better” a long time ago if I knew they made this kind of stuff.

I’m leaning toward the spotted jacket thinking that it might take AWHILE to tailor sequined stuff since if you do it wrong most of the jacket may fall off and roll around the tailoring floor.

But as the caring, loving Father of the Bride this is exactly what I do, I send a txt to my daughter, Ashley that says this: “Hey, I think I found…

…my Father of the Bride suit.”

For some reason, Ashley never txt’d back.

Lipstick & pig: 3

Next up…

…this place where two salespeople in the Suit Department paid no attention to us as we looked through their suits so I told Barb, “Let’s get out of IGnordstrom…and check out another joint.”

And so we did…this place…

Yep.

Brook$ Brother$

At about this point I was done shopping in general, costume shopping specifically.

“Can I help you sir,” says a young man in a suit that I’m sure cost more than my first car.

This is me: “Dude, I have to buy a suit for my daughter’s wedding, I’ve never owned a suit in my life, don’t ever want to own a suit in my life and I’m CLOTHESOUT.”

Then I just stood there, let’s see what the dude is made of.

“Oh…and I don’t want to pay a lot of money.”

On the street I’ve just laid down a double-dog-dare.

“No problem, let’s try this…”

So we go to the back of the store where they have wood tables made of real wood, mirrors that are framed with nice framed stuff, and where all the folded stuff is folded all the same and seems to just smile at you.

And the dude pull a $900…NINE-HUNDRED DOLLARS suit off the rack and says, “Try this on, don’t worry about the price, just try it on first.”

So I do and do so handling it like it’s the freakin’ Ark of the Covenant, and come back out and look over the dude and straight at Barb.

I know an OMG look when I see one, I know BETTER the look she gives me when I’ve actually done something unexpected that was actually good, or, not totally against societal norms.

Dude says: “Go look in the mirror…”

And I do…Holy God…and I turn to Barb with the look like, “Is that me in that mirror,” to which she just shakes her head, “yep.”

“But dude, you know, YOU KNOW…”

Throughout this I’ve been pretty honest with the dude, Michael, is his name, turns out he’s the manager of the store or something, turns out he just got a bigger gig with the company and is moving to Manhattan, turns out he has a pretty cool sense of humor because my straight out honesty mixed with a touch of Hangryness has had him laughing from basically minute one of this, turns out…

…through some voodoo math he manages to knock a few hundred dollars and now it costs a bit more than the “MEN’S,” and this place caters to both sets of humans in our species so…

…I say exactly this, “Done Dude, I’ll take it.”

Did I buy it because of who made it, nope.

Did I buy it because of who handed it to me, yep. That young man standing next to me understood me, got me, PUT UP WITH ME, listened to me and with his first and only choice of suits handed me the exact one that he knew someday…

…would look like this on me but more importantly would…

…would lead to this smile on the Daughter of the Father of the Bride.

And that in itself is worth wearing the costume.

db

PS: This is the tie I will wear as The Father of the Bride:

Because I figure if I’m going to have to wear a costume…

…wear one that also helps others.

Just saying.