What The Well Dressed Man Is Wearing

It was the title under which Bertram Wooster once contributed an article to Milady's Boudoir. B.Wooster is a character that is found in some works of P G Wodehouse, where you can't avoid meeting Jeeves, another character. You see, Jeeves and B.Wooster are like Mary and her little lamb. But I digress. Suffice to say, I needed a title for this post and thought this one somewhat covered the topic.

I am not the well dressed man. As I don't have a woman in my life, I don't get nagged about my dress sense. I am one that never bothers to wear pressed shirts or pants, unless it is absolutely necessary. I don't shop for dress when there is a discount or there is a special occasion. I go and buy on a whim. Or I have plan to buy one but it was kept pending because I couldn't find time to go buy it. Last time I bought something was when I was caught in the rain and the shop was close by.

My dress shopping wouldn't take 15 minutes in all. Any delay is typically due to a queue at bill payment. I walk in, and I already have an idea what I am going to buy. The assistant ask me what I am looking for and I say generally, pant piece or shirting etc. I know the shrewd sales assistant will try to follow my gaze and try to take out what I am looking for. So I cleverly avoid looking there again directly. So the s.a starts pulling out stuff and spread them hoping to catch any weakness on my face. I keep what I want in my peripheral vision and says, 'Not this.. That.. NOOO.. other one!..' to the s.a, just to be civil. That is expected of one in these establishments, I suppose. But when I had enough of this game, I ask the s.a to pull out what I wanted in the first place, and says I will take those.

While the s.a is busy measuring, cutting etc, I watch others wasting their time 'shopping'. I marvel at women talking about colors like mauve/almond/peach etc. But then women are a complicated lot. One can understand painters needing to talk about 1001 colors. Mauve my foot! I am one that live very happily with less than 10 colors. Black/White/Brown/Green/Red/Yellow/Blue and may be mixtures of those.

I am out of the shop in about 30 minutes. Now is the time to go to my tailor. There are times I put off visiting him for months, for no reason at all. Mostly I go and fix things up directly after I have bought the clothes.

Now this tailor is another funny character. We go a long way back. I used to go to him when I was a kid in half trousers. I just kept him all along. He is good in stitching pants. In all the years, like 28 years, he has changed his tailoring shop at least a dozen times. He keeps the name same but keeps changing the location. So first I have to locate him by calling him up or asking around, before taking my business to him.

From the moment I walk in, the show goes in predictable ways. He shows genuine pleasant surprise seeing me. After exchanging the pleasantries, he takes the tape and starts measuring. We start bargaining. He says, 1 more inch here? I say half! etc. Then he takes a look at the clothes materials and give his expert opinions. I probably already forgot what I bought in this one hour after buying it. So I ask him not to forget to cut and attach pieces to the bill so that I will recognize it next time. He laughs, says there is no need and he won't forget mine.

Then he pops the all important question. So when do I want it done? I know he will never give it on the agreed date, from my experience so far I ask him to take his own time and tell his date. Only, I should get it when I come to collect. This is something I am particular and he respects that But we still plays along. Now he looks at the calenders on his wall in a dreamy way. All his walls are covered with calenders. I look at his face. He looks on calenders. Then he says a date. I say right ho. And I leave.

As usual, I joke about my visit to the tailor when I get home. Folks ask me why I take the trouble to go to him if I know he is not going to deliver stuff on promised dates? I shrugs. So, days goes by. On the day before I am supposed to get my dress finished, I get a call at home. It would be a surprise if it didn't come. It will be my tailor, regretfully informing me that the work won't be finished on the agreed date because of such and such reasons. If I am attending the call, I will be grinning from ear to ear as soon as I know it is him. But I groan in to the phone and plays along. He says another date. I say okay in a resigned way. If the call was attended by somebody else, as soon as they tell me I had this call from my tailor, I know what the message is

Then after a couple of days, I get one more call from my tailor. Its not the D-Day yet. He says triumphantly that the work is done! There is genuine pride in his voice saying this. He has good reasons. It is earlier than the extended date. So he demands to know when I will be along to pick them up. Now the ball is in my court. I say a date. I might or might not go on the time I mentioned. Finally when I go to collect, if it was late, he says in a sort of accusing way that it was sitting there for days now!

Sometimes I pay him in advance. Sometimes I don't remember to do it in advance. But this had been a play we had been playing for years now. I like the man because, I think he is a good simple man. And I know that if I really needed to get something done in a hurry, I could depend on him to get it done. It has happened that way too.

Last time I saw him, I found he had gone all gray. He still was in his typical half sleeve vest and white dhoti. Smoking his beedi and shirtless. With the half shy smile on his face, as always.

He definitely tried to change with time, having made his card and all. I have one of his cards. So that I can call him up before going next time. He gave it when I complained that his shifting his shop is becoming a headache locating him.

His card says, 'Experts in Ladies & Gents dress making and Curtain works' in addition to the phone number and address.