SUITS ME

In the end, it rather surprised me how much I actually cared about the suit I ended up buying. After all, I’ve never been much of a one for fashion and suchlike, but, as I headed out on a hot, sticky morning with a “couldn’t care less” attitude, little did I suspect that the ten minutes I intended to spend in the shop thinking about it would stretch to a couple of hours, a couple of shops and a great deal of actual thought.

You’ll notice already that going “bespoke” was off the table, as was the notion of going into the city and trying out some “proper” clothing shops. No, for me, it was always going to be the biggest M&S I could think of, a quick shufti around, grabbing one that seemed to fit, a dash to the tills, and then off to the garden centre just in time for tea.

Things did not go well on the journey in, as the bewildering array of roundabouts which need to be negotiated in that less than familiar part of town led me on more than one wild goose chase, and I finally arrived on the car park of the required retail park feeling hot and sweaty and irritable, which is never the most conducive state of mind to be buying anything in, especially clothing.

I strolled into the “menswear” department hoping not to catch the eye of an over-eager sales assistant and was generally lucky in that regard at least. One did come over and ask if help were needed but soon scuttled away when told that we might, but not yet.

At that stage I had a few criteria in my mind, none of which eventually seemed to be followed, but at that stage this didn’t matter. I walked around a bit, rather disappointed at the lack of range of three-piece options and how “nasty” the material looked.

I’m obviously used to better things, he lied, looking at his reflection in all its “George” clad horror…

I decided very quickly that I didn’t like this modern trend for large and very noticeable stitching on the edges of the lapels and such, that I vehemently disliked panel pockets, that I would not countenance double banked outer pockets, and any patterned materials were going to be a no-no, as far as I was concerned.

After a truly depressing ten minutes of this, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to find anything and left, mentally considering digging the old suit out of the cupboard and wondering whether I could still carry it off, if I could even still get in it.

As I moodily renegotiated the roundabouts, I noticed that I was quite near to John Lewis and, after gently chatting to my credit card so that it wouldn’t feel too shocked, I decided to risk a Saturday in another quarter of retail hell which I would normally not venture anywhere near in a month of, er, Saturdays…

Anyway, I descended into the circle of hell which is their basement, where all hope of middle-aged masculine dignity goes to die, and strolled around their suit department, and actually found one that I quite liked and, more importantly, might even be prepared to wear.

It fitted none of my pre-departure criteria. It was not black and only consisted of two pieces but, in the end, reader, I bought it…

I also bought the shoes the sales assistant just brought over because my rubbish casual trainers really weren’t helping to show the clothing off at its best. The matching tie was necessary because all of my ties are at least ten years old and most of them are crumpled beyond reason, but I did accidentally end up paying far more for a shirt than I ever have before because I mis-read the label (damn these varifocals!), and I (also accidentally) ended up using my debit card instead of my credit card because I am an idiot (all donations for food for the rest of this month gratefully received...).

Still it is a nice shirt… Or rather it will be for the one time that I’ll probably end up wearing it…

Naturally the helpful salesman was able to help me on my way to parting with my hard-earned by encouraging me with such gentle praise as “that jacket hangs really well for an ‘off-the-peg’ suit” and “the modern fashion is to wear the trouser length longer” and “if you have a navy blue suit you can go to practically anything” but at least I’m not likely to look that much of a clown when I venture out to this formal occasion in a few weeks. Now all I have to do is find a suitable matching waistcoat which doesn’t get shamelessly ridiculed - and no doubt increase the clown analogy - when I pick it out…

Anyway, let’s just hope the pounds stay off my waistline in the meantime, eh…? At least as efficiently as the pounds departing from my bank account did…