“Four grand, Neal?” Peter was a little appalled. “I’m not sure I want a four thousand dollar monkey suit.” He kept his voice low. They were in a custom men’s wear shop on Columbus Avenue, not far from Lincoln Center. The store was on the second floor of an exclusive retail building, but was likely a place that very few people realized was there. The name of the shop was on a discreet bronze plate only slightly bigger than a deck of cards. The fitting room was about the size of their closet at home, but as well-appointed as a luxury hotel.
Neal didn’t sigh. He didn’t give him that look – the one that said, You’re doing this, don’t argue. He just said, “You’re getting married.”
“I could get married just as easily in my Birthday Suit.” Peter grinned and the clerk who just brought them coffee let out a shocked gasp and fled the room.
“Yes, your Birthday Suit is lovely. But this occasion requires something a little more … special.”
Peter was about to point out that he’d gone through sartorial hell for that suit – four fittings, plus several hours listening to Neal and the tailor discuss fabrics and cut and a thousand other details that went into the creation of a custom suit. Frankly, he couldn’t understand why Neal shuddered when he mentioned Brooks Brothers, but after thirty years, he knew better than to try and figure it out. Fine clothes, custom tailored were as much a part of Neal as Opening Day at Yankee Stadium were a part of him.
But four grand for a tuxedo he might wear twice a year seemed a little extreme and worth at least a token protest. “Neal – ”
“Peter, you’re getting married. To me. That deserves something better than a rent-a-suit.”
“I didn’t say I’d rent a tux – have I ever?”
Neal grinned, “Well, there was the senior dance at Harvard.”
“That was 1987, and if I recall, you rented a tux, too. We both looked like idiots.”
“Actually, we looked like escapees from a Young Republicans convention, which might be the same thing. And regardless, you’re not renting a ‘monkey suit’ for our wedding.”
Peter shook his head. “You didn’t listen to me – I didn’t say I was going to rent a tux. I have a perfectly fine one in the closet, if you are insisting on formal wear.”
“A tuxedo you put on for the annual Bureau Commendation Dinner is not a tuxedo to get married in. Besides, that was off the rack from Brooks Brothers.” And right on cue, Neal shuddered.
“Okay, maybe it’s not something to get married in, but there has to be a happy medium between a four thousand dollar custom made suit and something off the rake. We can go to Barney’s. You like Bergdorf’s.” Peter smiled, feeling like he’d just scored a game winning walk-off home run in the seventh game of the World Series.
Neal didn’t answer, but he pulled out his smart phone and called up something. “This is what you’ll find at Bergdorf Goodman’s” He showed Peter.
And it was Peter’s turn to shudder. There were about a dozen different tuxedos on the page, four were in the loudest and ugliest plaids he’d ever seen, one had tie-dye across the front that looked like vomit, one was made entirely out of acid-washed denim, and the rest were uglier than the one that he’d rented back in ’87. “Okay, what about Barney’s?”
“Peter – a tux from Barney’s won’t be any less expensive. Stop fussing, okay?”
“This matters to you.” Peter reached out and pulled Neal into his arms.
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Re: very late T or T - Part One
Date: 2014-10-30 09:27 pm (UTC)Neal didn’t sigh. He didn’t give him that look – the one that said, You’re doing this, don’t argue. He just said, “You’re getting married.”
“I could get married just as easily in my Birthday Suit.” Peter grinned and the clerk who just brought them coffee let out a shocked gasp and fled the room.
“Yes, your Birthday Suit is lovely. But this occasion requires something a little more … special.”
Peter was about to point out that he’d gone through sartorial hell for that suit – four fittings, plus several hours listening to Neal and the tailor discuss fabrics and cut and a thousand other details that went into the creation of a custom suit. Frankly, he couldn’t understand why Neal shuddered when he mentioned Brooks Brothers, but after thirty years, he knew better than to try and figure it out. Fine clothes, custom tailored were as much a part of Neal as Opening Day at Yankee Stadium were a part of him.
But four grand for a tuxedo he might wear twice a year seemed a little extreme and worth at least a token protest. “Neal – ”
“Peter, you’re getting married. To me. That deserves something better than a rent-a-suit.”
“I didn’t say I’d rent a tux – have I ever?”
Neal grinned, “Well, there was the senior dance at Harvard.”
“That was 1987, and if I recall, you rented a tux, too. We both looked like idiots.”
“Actually, we looked like escapees from a Young Republicans convention, which might be the same thing. And regardless, you’re not renting a ‘monkey suit’ for our wedding.”
Peter shook his head. “You didn’t listen to me – I didn’t say I was going to rent a tux. I have a perfectly fine one in the closet, if you are insisting on formal wear.”
“A tuxedo you put on for the annual Bureau Commendation Dinner is not a tuxedo to get married in. Besides, that was off the rack from Brooks Brothers.” And right on cue, Neal shuddered.
“Okay, maybe it’s not something to get married in, but there has to be a happy medium between a four thousand dollar custom made suit and something off the rake. We can go to Barney’s. You like Bergdorf’s.” Peter smiled, feeling like he’d just scored a game winning walk-off home run in the seventh game of the World Series.
Neal didn’t answer, but he pulled out his smart phone and called up something. “This is what you’ll find at Bergdorf Goodman’s” He showed Peter.
And it was Peter’s turn to shudder. There were about a dozen different tuxedos on the page, four were in the loudest and ugliest plaids he’d ever seen, one had tie-dye across the front that looked like vomit, one was made entirely out of acid-washed denim, and the rest were uglier than the one that he’d rented back in ’87. “Okay, what about Barney’s?”
“Peter – a tux from Barney’s won’t be any less expensive. Stop fussing, okay?”
“This matters to you.” Peter reached out and pulled Neal into his arms.