There was one other guy in the men's section and he had one of the suits in his hands. He looked up at me with an "OMG-THERE'S-ANOTHER-GUY-SHOPPING-HERE-SOLO!" look and we instantly bonded. I mentioned how pathetic the offerings were for men and he heartily agreed. He then says: "So what do you think of this suit? Does it look OK?" I told him to hold it up under his chin. It was kind of a mustard/beige/tan color with a muted silver stripe. It's not something I would look at twice but he (I never did get his name) had such a hopeful look on his face. "Put on the jacket, let's see how it fits and how it falls on you. What size is it. Really? 46M? I'm a 46L!" So he puts on the jacket and it didn't look bad on him. He was a kind of jolly looking sort--stocky, almost full head of blond hair, glasses--a friendly guy. "It looks OK. You should go for it. Is it for work or play?"
The only activity he mentioned that he might wear the suit for was church. OK...church...a three piece mustard and silver suit. I wondered what kind of church he went to but didn't ask. I suspect there was a sweet little Becky Thatcher type in the third pew that he had his eye on. Right next to the sad little kiosk of men's suits there was a slightly larger rack of dress shirts. "Now I need a nice shirt to go with it. What do you think of this one?" He's still wearing the suit jacket and he's holding up a mustard/beige/tan colored shirt in front of him. "That's a lot of stuff that looks kinda like Guilden's mustard, let's see if we can't find you something with a little contrast. Since your suit definitely is warm colors we need a warm shirt with a little contrast." Except for white, all the other plain colored shirts looked like they were meant for "made" guys going to the big mob moss meeting. The patterned shirts were a little too busy with his silver stripes so we decided on the basic white. I could see that he wasn't really satisfied. (This Becky Thatcher type must really be a dish...) "I need a 'shopper' to help me. Kind of like that TV show "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy".
We parted ways and I wandered to the front of the store where a white shirt with orange stripes caught my eye. I tried it on and it fit so I went up to one of the clerks and stood behind the lady currently being serviced. "Excuse me sir. You have to stand in line." She looked to her left and I see this line of about twenty people, all eying me with looks of mild disapproval. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I'm kind of a rookie at this. I haven't shopped in awhile. I'll go to the back of the line." I shamefacedly took my proper place at the back of the line. After a few minutes, when I saw how slow we were moving, I had a change of heart about the shirt. I could imagine Nicole's reaction if I wore it with her. "Uh-uh Sneedy I'm not going out with you in that shirt". Since I didn't have proper female style guidance with me and the line was moving slowly I put the shirt back on the rack and left. My neuropathic feet were getting a little sore, (should have worn my "Silver Sneaker Club sneaks). so I got in the car and drove slowly (lots of shoppers with carts crossing the street) along the main road where all the major stores were. I was planning to call it a day since I was getting hungry and I didn't wanted to be tempted by fast food outlets of which there are many at Rowland Plaza. As I was heading for the exit road I suddenly see a Ross, Dress for Less store. What the hell I came all this way. Cowboy up with the feet. What would the Silver Sneakers Club members say If I wimped out? So I go in and find the cramped little alcove that's the men's section. They didn't even have sports coats. Somewhat disappointed, I perused what they did have which was mostly parka stuff. Suddenly this beautiful brown leather bomber jacket caught my eye. I have coveted this type of jacket for most of my adult life, but have never gotten up the nerve to buy one--mostly because of the cost. I took it off the hanger and held it up. "My goodness that's a manly jacket!" I thought to myself.
I looked inside. It had a quilted satin lining. The label said "XXL. Tommy Hilfiger". I put it on. It was big. I am big. It was a great match. "Too bad I probably can't afford such a fine and manly leather bomber jacket--certainly not one made by Tommy Hilfiger!". Somewhat forlornly, I took it off and looked at the price tag to see how outrageous the price was. When I saw the price I experienced what could only be described as reverse sticker shock. 55 BUCKS!!! I couldn't believe it. I Looked closer at the label but it was in 6 point pica and I didn't have my reading glasses. I smelled the jacket. Yup, smells like leather! The lady in front of my was, I sensed, an experienced shopper. She turned around and addressed my little quandary. "Let me see, I have my reading glasses on. OK, the label says: "SHELL FACE 100% POLYURETHANE
SHELL BACK 100% VISCOSE
BODY LINING, SLEEVE LINING
FILLER AND KNIT: 100% POLYESTER"
Ok, so it's not exactly pure leather. I expressed my disappointment to the nice lady "Well, it sure looks like the real thing and it really looks good on you!" She kind of eyed me up and down with what I thought looked like an appreciative look. She urged me to buy it. "At that price and the fact that everything is synthetic means it's probably waterproof. Just don't dry-clean it. All you have to do if you get something on it just wipe if off with a damp sponge, like you would with a plastic lawn chair or a kitchen counter. After all, it's basically a plastic jacket. But it really looks and (sniff, sniff) smells like real leather."
Well, that was enough for me. Female approval. If Sneedy or Bunny objects when we go on that Ferry boat ride, I'll just tell them, "Hey I got official approval from a savvy female shopper". Bill says it's a little big on me and the bottom of the jacket isn't supposed to hang down below your ass like that. Hmm. Maybe I'll take it back. Bill says I should go on Amazon. Well, we'll see. Anyway, that's enough scrivening for now. I'm sorry about all this verbosity but I need the exercise for my duypuytrens contracted fingers. If any of you ladies in the Cc: column have any comments based on the picture, let me have it. I can take it. After all... I am a member of the "Silver Sneakers Club"!
Love and disses, Mickey da Mayor
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