My Mom bought me a suit before my bar mitzvah. I’m not sure what happened to it or how long it was a part of my life.
The suit I currently wear in spite of the pants being too tight is a fancy Brooks Brothers charcoal two piece. I paid zero dollars and zero cents for it. In February of 2000 I moved into an apartment in Redwood City, California. The rent was $450 a month, but what was the clincher for me was that my bedroom came furnished with a bed, a desk, and a chair. The desk and a chair were golden. I did a lot of good writing in them. The bed had springs sticking out of it. I slept in it way too long.
But after my check cleared and I got my key I looked inside the bedroom’s closet. There was a suit and an extra sports coat that still had their tags on them. The sports coat was a little loose on me, but the suit fit me perfectly. I’ve worn it to a dozen weddings, two funerals, and a job interview to be a substitute teacher (although never once on the job). I have promised my Love Interest that when our long threatened wedding does occur I will not marry her in that suit and I will make good on that.
I am no that sentimental. For at least a couple years now every time I struggle to tighten the button of those pants, I figure it’s time to try something new, but it continues to hang stubbornly in my closet coming out when the occasion arises.