I went to a tailor last week with three suits in need of adjustment for an upcoming formal event.
They all needed to be adjusted to one degree or another.
I donned the first suit, stepped out of the dressing room, and stood before the tailor. She asked me to turn, sighed, and said, “Let’s look at the other two suits.”
When I asked what was wrong, she said some words that made no sense to me, then Elysha translated:
“She says your suit is outdated.”
A minute later, I emerged once again from the dressing room with another suit, which she liked much better. She pinched and squeezed the fabric, pinned and marked certain places, and then we repeated the process for the third suit.
But that first suit, which still required tailoring?
It remained on its hanger. I brought it home, untouched, which is crazy, for this simple reason:
I wanted that suit tailored, but the tailor essentially said, “No, this suit is no good,” and moved on.
But I like that suit. I have no problem with that suit. I wore that suit last year and felt great while doing so.
All of which is to say:
The suit in question reflects my own personal style because I like the damn thing.
For all of my life, I have listened to people endlessly assert the importance of finding your own path, charting your own course, being your own person, and avoiding the pressure of others to conform and become something that you’re not.
Be yourself! To hell with the opinions of others! Be a leader rather than a follower!
Then I walk into the tailor’s shop and am told that my suit does not adequately conform to the current style and opinion of the masses, therefore I should not wear it.
In fact, it doesn’t even deserve to be tailored.
That’s crazy.
The world is a damn contradiction.
Be yourself, unless while being yourself, you’re wearing a suit that is a decade out of style.
Be yourself, just as long as you look like everyone else while being yourself.
Be yourself, but also, be like everyone else, too.
I hate all of it.
But here’s the craziest part of the whole encounter:
I went along with it. Me. The person who craves confrontation. The person who wears whatever he wants. The man who hasn’t donned a necktie in years and is underdressed most of the time by most people’s standards.
I allowed this woman to send me home with a suit that still requires tailoring.
Why?
I think it was a combination of things:
- I was in an environment – a European tailor shop – to which I was unacquainted. The tailor possessed home-field advantage, and pathetically, I allowed that advantage to impact my decision-making.
- Elysha was with me, also getting something tailored, and the whole purpose of the visit was to prepare for a formal event that we will be attending together. To go to war with the tailor would’ve created both problems and consternation for Elysha, who was patiently awaiting her turn. Rather than turning a simple visit to the tailor into a treatise on the importance and relevance of individuality, personal style, and basic business practices, I surrendered the hill, opted to fight another day, and moved on.
- I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. Had the tailor said, “No, this suit is out of style. You must never wear it again. Remove this ridiculous garment and don another,” I think the chances of me charging into battle would’ve been considerably greater. But I needed Elysha to translate whatever the tailor had said about the suit, so I wasn’t entirely sure if I had understood the situation correctly. It was only after we were driving home and I had time to ask Elysha some questions that I understood the true nature of the encounter and became annoyed.
So a suit remains in my closet, still in need of tailoring. I will get it tailored elsewhere, and I will wear that suit whenever I damn well please because I like the suit, and human beings are supposed to wear the garments they like, even if they don’t exactly conform to the preferences of the people around them.
I learned this lesson in elementary school.
But I, too, am a contradiction.
On the one hand, I will forever remain proud of myself for not creating a scene in the tailor shop, because I love my wife and need not bring unnecessary discord into her life.
On the other hand, I will forever regret not going to war with that condescending, dismissive tailor and the conformity that she attempted to impose upon me and the clothing I wear.
Pride and regret:
A contradiction almost as ridiculous as one that insists that I be myself while also being like everyone else.
