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meg fowler tripp dot com
You are currently browsing comments. If you would like to return to the full story, you can read the full entry here: “I served this man coffee. And I’m not sure which was hotter.”.
I spent my youth & (ahem) middle years foreswearing the suit. Now, in my early dotage, I find myself yearning for a bottle green single-breasted velvet two-piece with a flared jacket & covered buttons & a heavy lovat green Donegal tweed single-breasted three-piece, both from Ede & Ravenscroft of Cambridge.
I never cease to be amazed at you, Meg. How do you know so much about suits?
Novelty socks are for assassins.
Does this count for women, too?
(I’m currently wearing gouchos — YES, gouchos — with novelty socks and cowboy boots. I think I look hot today.)
Ha! I got moderated! Must be the assASSins.
I think it was “hot.” Haha!
And if you knew my dad, you’d know why I know anything at all about suits. He’s brilliant with the clothes — AND I’ve been sneaking his GQs and reading them since I was 10.
I’m sorry, what? There was a post following the photo? I’m way to busy destroying my keyboard with drool.
*SIGH*
People should dress with more occasion and care. Jeans should not be fancy dinner attire.
He is so damn hot.
Oh, and I can’t handle any novelty items. Blame my father for that, too.
You know? He REALLY IS. I wish he could make a decent film.
Ahh, GQ and a sharp-dressed dad — that would do it.
OK, I give up. WHO is Mr. Reynolds? Does he have a first name?
(Fine. Laugh at me. Just TELL me!)
i love a man in a suit. i love ryan reynolds. yum!
He is Ryan Reynolds, actor in crap films and former fiance of Alanis Morisette. I served him at my Starbucks, back before he was anyone. And he. Was. Lovely. To. Look. At. But kind of sullen, which is a dealbreaker.
*raising hand sheepishly*
um, i have a confession to make. not about me, but about my snazzy new husband… this suit, which fits like a dream and looks like a million bucks, was purchased three days before our wedding at Target.
Honey, it’s gorgeous. Anywhere you can find quality, you should get it. And if it looks good, I could care less if it was cheap or expensive. But as a rule, cheap suits are… cheap.
I once found a gorgeous dress for 3 bucks. 3 BUCKS!! And it fit like a dream and lasted forever. Have I ever found one again? No. The last one I bought (that my mother did not craft) cost significantly more.
oh, don’t get me wrong…we love bargains, and we love target. if we ever win the lotto, however, any suit purchases made thereafter will be of the quality, designer variety.
Hair swooshitude is damn hard to perfect. Helps to have a permanent stylist I suppose. Suits are fun…but I wouldn’t want to have to do them every day (unless, of course, I had that personal stylist).
As long as you acknowledge they can be fun SOMETIMES. That’s plenty for me.
I’m going to go ahead and quote myself liberally here (I also have strong opinions about linen suits):
For a lot of men, a suit is a uniform. For me, it’s a costume. A uniform reinforces who you are; a costume makes you something you’re not. When I wear a suit for business, I’m a more gregarious, authoritative and serious version of myself. I’m Darren Barefoot, Suited Corporate Thinker.
Maybe because it’s a costume, I find wearing a suit a little transformative. The world responds to me differently. The suit is symbolic all things official and orderly, and so people tend to treat me accordingly. I get better service.
Maybe it’s because I have a BFA in Theatre instead of an MBA in Something Impressive, but my costume makes me act differently, too. In fact, it just makes me act a bit. I’m more inclined to request a particular table at a restaurant. I tip better. I feel…cavalier.
And yet, I also feel conflicted in a suit. All of a sudden, I am The Man–tall, broad-shouldered, tie-wearing, glass-wearing, Caucasian–I am The Man from NASA. And I’m not sure I like me. In fact, I’d probably make fun of me, if I wasn’t, you know, me.
I’m rambling here, but I guess my point is a truism: the clothes do, to some degree, make the man.
On the stage, a relatively small costume change–a different hat or length of skirt–can have a significant impact on how the audience responds to a character.
This applies in real life, too. Women have known this since the first Cro-Magnon seamstress stitched together two saber tooth tiger hides. Men should catch up, and be more aware of the impact of our clothing.
Beautifully put, Darren.
A) Target does have great suits and they last.
B) Ryan Reynolds’ movies suck, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love him
C) Amen Darren
It’s weird that Ryan Reynolds looks so fancy here considering he makes more fart jokes than a 14 year-old boy.
He does look mighty fine though.
Just an FYI for Darren, and anyone else that might be curious, the word in Swedish for a man’s suit is “kostym”, pronounced very much like costume.
Meg, I found your post through Darren’s blog. A few comments here for you:
OMG, that’s a great photo of Ryan Reynolds. He’s so damned sexy.
I loved the assassin comments (who knew that assassins had novelty ties and novelty socks?)
When I read “Your pants need to be long enough…” I nearly blew water out of my nose it was so funny.
I support your comment that tailoring is absolutely the right thing to do.
And Darren, RuPaul, one of the people in the world I think we can all agree has the right to comment on costume, says “”We are all born naked. Everything else is drag.” So just think of your suit as “power-drag”.
Bravo Meg (and commenters) for a fun post!
Troy
P.S. Anybody know of any great places to get suits made here in Vancouver other than Harry Rosen or…well, Harry Rosen?
I got rid of my “suit-in-a-pouch” many years ago and switched up to $900+ versions of the best materials and fundamental colors.
Currently work in a dress-as-you-like place where jeans, sandals, shorts whatever goes and find that wearing a suit versus dressing down makes one heck of a difference in my approach to business and people (I’m nicer and smarter).
PS: I look so good in my suits that my presence has been known to boil coffee right out of the cup, in an elegant sort of way.