Cutting The Losses (An Appeal)

Back in July, I managed to "score" the suit in the above photo from ebay. It's a custom made suit by Alan Flusser, circa mid-90s. I wrote about it shortly after receiving it, using it to illustrate my "Law of Averages" theory as it applies to thrift shopping. It's made of a heavy nailhead cloth, and it's been hanging at the back of the closet in the "on deck circle", awaiting it's trip to the tailor. Every time I take it out to bring it to be fitted, it winds up getting bumped for other pending alterations. The longer I wait, the more I contemplate whether it might not be time to cut my losses on this one.

A three piece double breasted suit, seldom seen since the 1930s, is certainly not an easy garment to come by. Simply having one is something of a second hand/cheapskate gold medal. But when will I wear it? Lord knows I don't really need it. Hell, I don't really need any of this stuff. And the cost of alterations? OK, that's it, my mind is made up....

And then Tin Tin (remember him?) posts this photo, from a mid-90s era Esquire article written by none other than Alan Flusser himself. And I see such a suit in action, and I know now that I must have it...but wait a minute, no, I don't. Perhaps you see my dilemma. Or perhaps you are a more well adjusted, level headed person who is only reading this bog and others like it to marvel at the amount of time and thought that some fellows put into something so ultimately superficial and inconsequential. In any case, I appeal to you for help.

On September 19, 2008, the fellow formerly known as "Longwing" (remember him?) commented in response to this blog's very first post:

"Thrifters have too much shit. You get used to not getting exactly what you want so you tend to buy everything that even comes close."

I refuted him then, even though I couldn't help but admit that he indeed had a very valid point. It's a mild form of hoarding sickness that I have fought hard to keep in check all my life. I feel that I do fairly well, and no doubt operating a second hand clothing business does give me a convenient outlet for unwanted or no longer needed garments. But I ask you, is this not just the sort of situation old Longwing was talking about? Do I bite the bullet and pour more cash into making this suit fit? Or do I recoup my investment and get this thing into the hands of someone an inch or so taller than me? After all, I have a pair of cream colored flannel trousers already at the tailor's awaiting pick up, and a pair of cavalry twills to be dropped off, to say nothing of the dry cleaning.

Torture and anguish, thy name is a less than perfect ebay score. Thoughts and opinions greatly appreciated.

Rules of Thirfting : A Law of Averages

Thrift shopping, and living cheaply most of the time, is something of a game without rules. There are so many vagaries to contend with, and so much chance involved that the only "rule" that's true all the time is that anything can happen at any time. After a while, you learn to see the big picture as something of a law of averages.

The suit pictured above is my own most recent acquisition. Very dressy, perhaps even a whiff out of character for me, but until now I had never seen a double breasted three piece suit in the flesh. It's like a unicorn, the stuff of legend, seen only in black and white movies. Rendered in heavy but soft nailhead flannel and replete with 1930s details, made custom for someone in the mid-90s in New York by Alan Flusser, at $100, I simply couldn't resist. 

The suit will need a bit of alterations, but there's no hurry since it's a winter cloth. The alterations it does need are a little unusual though. The trousers and vest fit perfectly, and the sleeves are just the right length, which is good as it has surgeon cuffs (working buttonholes). The odd thing is that despite the trouser waist being just right, the jacket waist needs to come in, and despite the inseam and sleeves being just right, the coat needs to be shortened by a half an inch or so. The waist is an easy, common alteration, but shortening the coat will take some work and cost some money. It's not an alteration that is always possible, as you run the risk of spoiling the coats proportions, but in this case, the buttons and pockets are set in such a way that half an inch will work. The coat has side vents which are cut deep enough to take the loss of length, and because the coat is double breasted, it has corners at the front rather than the curved edges found on a single breasted coat, making this task a little easier to accomplish.

So here's how this law of averages works. While $100 may be an incredible deal for a suit of this calibre, it is well more than what I usually pay for a second hand suit. The alterations will likely cost about $100 as well. By comparison as I write this I am wearing another thrifted suit that cost $40 and needed no alterations, and my favorite all purpose navy blazer was less than $10. You simply can't expect any kind of consistency in pricing any  more than you can expect to find a specific thing on a specific day. When taken as part of an average the cost of all my clothes, this suit is cheaper even in a sense than what I paid for it. Besides, thrift shop long enough and $200 all in becomes an expensive guilty splurge on a spectacular suit, when most other people are ready to spend as much on diffusion line "Chaps Ralph Lauren" suit, or something similarly lackluster, at a place like Kohl's. Besides, there's adventure and chance involved in thrift shopping, which for the professional cheapskate is more than half the fun. And the smarmy feeling of self satisfaction that comes with knowing that you got one over on that guy who bought his cheap suit at Kohl's is kind of priceless.

Rules of Thrifting: 1, 2, and 3

Pictured above is a three piece suit in cavalry twill, the most recent addition to my own Affordable Wardrobe. Heavy cloth like cavalry twill my not be the very thing we want to talk about this time of year, perhaps most especially on the heels of my last post about seersucker suits, but it bears discussion here as this suit goes to illustrate not one but three of the basics tenets of successful thrift shopping. Before we delve too deeply into that, let's have a closer look at the suit itself:

For those that may not know, cavalry twill is heavy wool cloth with a pronounced diagonal weave (twill), usually seen in shades of tan, brown, or olive. As with so many things in menswear, it's origins are military. As one might guess from its name, this hard wearing cloth was first developed for the British cavalry, hence it's frequent use in colors that also derive from the military. Think of it as the big cousin to khaki chino, also a military twill fabric. As such, it's traditionally what we might call a "country cloth", most at home with wool ties and thick brogued shoes. This suit is an excellent example of the cloth, just as thick and heavy as you please, in a classic color comprised of a combination of tan and grey threads woven together. Welted edges and seams are an appropriate detail.

Dating from the 70s, but by no means dated. The lapels and pocket flaps veer just this side of wide, but the only tough detail is the wide belt loops and waistband. Fortunately, there is no flare to the trouser legs, which are cut in a fairly classic manner.

Louis Boston is a well known high end shop. These days dealing mainly in the more expensive Italian lines (Zegna, Brioni, Kiton, etc.), in the 60s through the 80s they also ran "The Bekeley Shop". a store-in-store that dealt in more traditional Anglo-American clothing.

As I said, this suit clearly illustrates three of the most basic principles of successful thrift shopping. The first point is the easiest to state: buy it when you find it. Here in Boston, it's only just gotten warm, if not hot, outside. After escaping the grip of an especially long a cold Winter followed by a relatively chilly and grey Spring, we're all more than happy to reject the heavy stuff in favor or madras and seersucker. But it just so happens that I found this suit yesterday, and it would be foolish to leave it behind simply because it will be months before I get to wear it. Conversely, I bought my best madras jacket in the middle of that very same long, cold Winter.

Secondly, this suit is the result of hard core thrift perseverance.  I managed to reunite all three pieces from separately around the store. I found the jacket first, and was about to take a pass. A few minutes later, the vest turned up elsewhere in the store, and I realized the jacket wasn't just a jacket, but part of a suit. I took those two pieces to the pants section, where I then found the pants. I took the time to put them all together on one hanger, and paid suit price rather than three separate prices for each, though even at that it would have been crazy cheap. This cost me $14.99.

Thirdly, it speaks to the fact that thrift shopping takes vision. This suit is from the 1970s, but really the only "bad" 70s detail here is the wide waistband and belt loops. Truthfully, this isn't much of a problem anyway, since the suit is cut right and the pants are high enough that the entire waistband is covered by the vest, as it should be. Still, I plan to put in brace buttons and remove the belt loops, perhaps even have my tailor build buckle side tabs, thereby removing the only offending detail.

You see, being a full blast professional cheapskate is not as easy as simply rolling into the first thrift store you see with a dollar in your pocket. You have to know what you're doing. It takes vision, patience, and a lot of effort. Luck has only so much to do with it.