Shropshire Star

Rob Golledge: Suit you, Sir! Buying new threads turned into a mission impossible

Buying a suit should be simple, shouldn't it? Finding a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a jacket to fit is hardly akin to the science behind the Hadron Collider or the Hubble Space Telescope.

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Surely a man of even basic intelligence can handle that? Or so I thought.

For two years I have been in the market for a new set of Number Ones, as rugby and military folk call them, to no avail.

It certainly hasn't been for want of trying.

I've travelled the far-flung corners of the West Midlands in my search of a proper fitting suit.

In Birmingham I was not-so-politely told that they didn't stock my size of jacket.

"I'm afraid the Italians don't cater for men of your. . . er . . . stature, sir," said the smug 20-something who had emptied the contents of a Brylcreem tub on top of his head.

I mean a 40-inch chest is hardly Pavarotti standards is it? Where did he go to get his? Primark?

Friendlier

In Bridgnorth it didn't get any better.

"I'm not sure our suits are in your price range, sir?" said the bespectacled middle-aged gent behind the counter.

How could he possibly know?

I may have gone in wearing a pair of trainers, jogging bottoms and a cagoule but so do most people who have been fell running.

Thankfully the folk in Lichfield were friendlier.

But a little too friendly, if you get my drift.

"Ooooh are you a weightlifter, sir? said a dapper bewigged 60-something fellow while patting down both my shoulders and upper arms with each of his hands.

"The shape of your upper body is extraordinary, sir," he commented with a smile.

"Your waist is much smaller than it looks," he added.

"Do you dress to the left or the right, sir," he inquired, his grin (and possibly something else) growing by the second.

I made my excuses and left.

I've been slightly scared to venture back into a gentleman's outfitters or tailors since. And that was 18 months ago.

But putting the snooty and groping sales staff to one side, there are still several obstacles to overcome.

Why do suit suppliers decide en masse that they will only produce one colour at a time?

They're either all blue, all black, or all grey – never a selection.

It would be like going into a butcher's to find they are only selling rump steak.

What about the bacon?

Then, when you go into department stores like Beatties – or House of Fraser if you prefer – it's almost like they set out to trick you with their Starbucks inspired shirt names.

Skinny fit, tailored, seamless, side pleats, centre pleats, waist pleats, button down, pinned, wing tip, contrast, spread, classic, mandarin, and club. Huh? Do any of those come in decaf?

Some of us just want coffee thank you very much. Though not me, I'm a tea drinker.

And then, being a man, obviously I don't try it on in the shop. That would be a waste of time. I just guess that the size shirt I normally wear – indeed the size all my other well-fitting shirts are – will fit.

Why wouldn't it?

But of course it doesn't.

I get home, try on an M&S tailored seamless mandarin (whatever that is) and it ends up resembling a second skin or a straightjacket.

Pressure

It leaves me barely able to breath and it puts the buttons under enough pressure that if one of them manages to break free it will set a new land speed record across the bedroom.

Selecting trousers is equally as challenging.

You'd think all you would need to know was your waist size and inside leg measurement.

Apparently not.

Some retailers now are offering skinny, straight, and boot cut-style suit trousers.

What next? Hot pants for the workplace?

How about a G-string for the professional?

I'm sure my Lichfield tailor would be in his element – let alone my colleagues.

It really should not be this hard for a man to buy a suit.

Ties, surprisingly, also cause further problems.

I know the idea of wearing a tie may be alien or old-fashioned to many, but some businesses still believe we are living in the 1950s and thus must wear this dangling bit of fabric from our collars.

What purpose other than occasionally acting as a narrow bib does it serve?

I must admit sometimes I think it may come in handy if I found myself short of loo roll but that's about it.

And then there is the problem of buying them.

It appears it is now something of a faux pas to sell plain coloured cotton ties.

They have to be yellow, tortoise, or sunset orange.

And the material is now, almost always, silk which doesn't just mean a single tie can cost £20 but also that even if so much of a raindrop falls on it that it is permanently smeared like a used polishing cloth.

It may be OK if you are Sir Roger Moore but if you are an office bum like me you simply can't afford to pop to Savile Row every time you wish to smarten up.

In the end I came to the conclusion that it was best just to give up.

I doubt anyone takes much notice of what I wear to work anyway.

I could probably walk in wearing a Borat mankini and no-one would bat an eyelid.

And if I am honest there is nothing wrong with my current, albeit limited, range of attire.

My current suits fit. . . sort of.

I'm just destined to wear greying shirts, tight trousers and suit jackets I can't button up for the time being.

And by my reckoning one of my suits first worn 10 years ago is bound to be back in fashion anytime soon.

Retro is all the rage.

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