Last weekend, the wife and I attended a formal affair at Lincoln Center. I borrowed a tux from a friend – or at least from someone who has been a friend until now.
Before I get into that, let me say that no man’s life is complete until he and his beautiful wife (or girlfriend, or both) walk along Broadway near Lincoln Center, in formalwear. On this particular night, it was me in a perfectly fitting tux, her in a black velvet gown with bared shoulders showing off her creamy piel de canel.
Our mid-May evening stroll was perfect in every way. We were so, oh so, careful to avoid acknowledging the stares and pointed fingers from the on-looking classes. We did not flinch at the occasional camera flashes one must endure.
The truth is, I was wearing a borrowed tux. We came on the subway (and went home the same way). That night, the panhandlers seemed especially aggressive and disbelieving when I turned them away.
“Rich mofo ain’ got no love.”
Today I must return the tux. I sent the following note ahead of it:
Hi John,
I looked great in your tux. Some people walked up to me and said, “Hey John, You’ve lost weight.”
One of them had some kind of court docs he wanted to give me, thinking I was you, related to a paternity suit or something. I explained his error and gave him your home address and private phone numbers so he would not continue to have trouble finding you.
BTW, the rip in the left knee is hardly visible and attention to it is easily distracted to the large spots on the jacket. My wife said they add a certain raffish charm quite appropriate to your man-about-town reputation.
The aroma is not at all as offensive as ankle-biters would have you believe. Hang the thing out on the back porch for a few days. An unintended benefit will be that cats will not hang around there at night howling for whatever it is cats howl for.
If I ever find the cufflinks, I’ll let you know. They probably fell out of the limo wherever I was when I lost the suspenders. I often remember unimportant details like that after the hangover goes away.
You know limo drivers today really have no respect. i told him we needed to find a bathroom right away. But maybe that’s why their cars all have leather interiors. Much easier to wipe up later. I told my wife that those anchovy olives in the martinis tasted like cod liver oil.
I really wanted to wear a tux again next Saturday evening when I am singing at a recital here at the Fairmount. But frankly, given the condition this suit of yours is in, I think you should be very apologetic for suggesting I might wear it again.
Do you know of anyone who has a more respectable garment than this sad thing and would be willing to lend it to me?