If my suit’s could tell a story

I consider myself fashion forward. What the hell does that even mean?

Let me try that again.

I like looking good. I like dressing well. I like shopping, and I can certainly find something new to buy.

Fashion forward, in my world, is the justification to my own subconscious that I need to buy something new that I didn’t have last season. Since our family began to grow, my spending habits have been curtailed somewhat. But, that doesn’t stop a few choice purchases here and there. I am still a sucker for a Paul Smith shirt or a pair of Oliver Sweeney shoes.

One thing that doesn’t need updating too often, is a black suit. It is probably THE staple of every man’s wardrobe. It is the defacto interview suit, it is the upscale San Francisco wedding suit, and for me it was the stylish ‘I just got engaged’ suit. This week, it will be the suit I wear to bury a friend.

A few weeks ago, a couple of friends were married in San Francisco. Small, chic, very stylish. That was me of course, but the wedding matched perfectly. My friends were married in downtown SF, in a small intimate soiree. It was exquisite in its simplicity, and dramatic in its style. It was everything you could want in a wedding, and it was an honor to be there.

My suit was a black Hugo Boss. I have had it a few years now, it has seen many good nights. And this one in San Francisco was no different. I have always felt comfortable in suits. They hide a multitude of sins, including too much good life and not enough gym time. But for an evening wedding in San Francisco, nothing less than a black suit would do.

Unfortunately, a black suit is also very fitting for a more somber occasion. Tomorrow I will wear it when I carry an old friend on my shoulder, and lay him to rest. I will wear it proud, and I will wear it well. For my friend would have expected nothing less.

Johnny Elizarrey died this week. He was a husband, a Father, a Grandfather, and a friend.

From what I knew about Johnny, he was larger than life. He was friendly, and warm, and giving, and everything I had imagined in an American man. I will miss him.
Tomorrow, when I wear my suit and carry him on my shoulder, I will think of all the good times we have had together with him and his family. And when I am done, I will put my suit away, and it will sit in the closet until the next time I need it.

And if my suits could tell a story, they would say they have seen some good times, and some bad. But whatever times come their way, they are always ready for the next story. I just hope next time they get to see a happier ending.