Many years ago, my own mother offered that my life ambition was to never have to get up in the morning. Given that I’m generally up and out nowadays at 6:30 (even if it’s just to get some coffee at Mickey D’s), her observation seems kind of harsh. But in fact, she wasn’t all that far off…as my real life ambition was (and is) to never have to wear a suit (and tie – especially).
Here’s an interesting question for y’all: Who the fuck invented the suit and tie? I’d imagine he rates just a notch below Adolph Hitler on history’s most notorious list. I am happy to say I own exactly one suit. If I were a man of my convictions, I’d own exactly no suits. But alas, back in 2001 when my nephew got married, I knew I couldn’t show up in blue jeans and a hoodie.
So on a hot August Wednesday in the middle of picking up Village Voice and New York Press deadline money, I mozied over to Men’s Whorehouse…excuse me…Men’s Warehouse and dropped a whopping $200 for a presentable suit. When I yanked what was probably in the neighborhood of 5 k out of my pocket, the salesman went crazy trying to sell me shoes, a shirt, and pretty much the entire inventory. Boy did he have the wrong guy! It was all I could do to not ask for a rebate when 4 days later, I went back to get the altered suit and discovered that my $200 garment was now on sale for $170!
But I digress. It is now 2017…and I still have that suit. And it’s still like new. For a good reason. I can count on two hands (or maybe one) the number of times I’ve worn it. To the best of my knowledge, I’ve donned the disguise for one funeral, one family function, one wedding, and two appearances before the authorities. And that in fact, would make one hand!
I believe the last two were the times I got the most mileage from the purchase. Picture the scene: I have to meet my DA a few weeks after “the visit.” I figured the standard jeans and a hoodie wouldn’t work. (Actually, it was early September so shorts and a t-shirt would have been more like it.) On went the suit and off came the baseball cap. As I entered the inner sanctum flanked by two spiffy lawyers (also similarly clad), the DA took a look and clearly, had no idea who was what! As in…three jews in suits. Pick the defendant. Kind of like the old three card monty game.
Fast forward to my plea deal and it was time to don the threads once again. As I entered the courthouse and began pulling crap out of my pockets for the obligatory scanning, the security guard addressed me as “counselor.” I wanted to say “Sorry, homey! I got an A in my undergraduate pre-law course but decided a career in jurisprudence wasn’t for me.” Rather, I played along though did consider trotting out my favorite lawyer joke (“A lawyer at the beach buried up to his neck in sand. What’s wrong with this picture? Answer: Not enough sand!”) But I didn’t…and let the moment pass.
Mom would have been proud no doubt. (“Ya see! Now aren’t you happy you bought the suit?”) But enough with the digressions. I’m not even smoking pot! To the point! I consider only having to wear a suit 5 times in 16 years – and having to own only one – a victory of sorts. Only high class whores wear suits. I’m a bohemian whore. There’s a difference!