The Virtues of Perseverance

Back in the 90s, my Dad had a subscription to GQ. This was in the end days of GQ being a publication for professional men interested in adult topics, rather than a pop rag full of twenty somethings in clothes that don't fit. I read it back then, and even though I may hate to admit being influenced by a magazine, I was. All those now famous Polo ads from the heyday were there, and the clothing photo spreads featured some pretty great stuff. Sure, the models were young, athletic, and handsome, but the clothes fit properly and it was obvious that the demographic was grown ups.

I'd see an outfit like the one pictured above. The model would probably be photographed descending a flight on stone steps on the front of an old official looking building, briefcase in one hand while checking his watch or hailing a cab. Or maybe he'd be in the park buying a hot dog from a street vendor while an attractive young lady in a business suit admired him from behind a newspaper. The caption would read something like this:

Dashing and simple, you can't go wrong with a good grey suit and blue striped shirt. Suit by Polo Ralph Lauren, $1295; shirt by Brooks Brothers, $149; tie by Robert Talbott, $125; belt by Coach; shoes by W.S.Foster and Sons.

I lusted after those things then, and I did my best in my teenage way to fake it with bargains and thrift shop purchases. In retrospect I missed the mark by a mile, but I was a kid and still just learning. I stuck with it, kept what was good and discarded the rest, in terms of both clothing and knowledge.  All these years later, I finally have the Polo suit, the Brooks Brothers shirt, and the Robert Talbott tie, albeit for a lot less money. I sometimes buy hot dogs from a street vendor, though I'm not sure how many attractive young ladies in business suits are admiring from behind a newspaper.

Perseverance is a virtue.

The Prodigal Son

I've written before about the perseverance involved in successful thrift shopping. Often, suits will be separated into their constituent parts and priced individually, but a pro-level thrift shopper (cheapskate) knows how to find the orphaned components and attempt to reunite them with their missing family. Not long ago, I brought together a three piece suit, from three different racks. Many other times I managed to put coat and trousers back together. Once, I completed a suit by finding the two pieces more than a week apart from one another. But the suit above marks a new level of thrift serendipity, even for a seasoned and perhaps even jaded cheapskate such as your humble author.

Last weekend, a regular consigner brought in the jacket pictured above, with the caveat that he knows I don't want orphaned suit coats, but this one is from Brooks Brothers, and maybe this one could exist as an odd jacket. My initial reaction was to answer with a resounding "no", but then he showed me the coat. Almost immediately, something occurred to me. I went to the trousers in my shop, and brought out a pair in the matching cloth, also Brooks Brothers, and in a waist size and inseam consistent with the size of the coat. Thing is, I've had these trousers in my possession for nearly two years. A new one, even for me.

Divine intervention? A prodigal son returns.

p.s. This suit, plus a number of other great new items, now available in the Shop. Check it out.