Waiting to have my suit altered.
The shop
Has been here forever
Unchanged
I’m sure.
A somewhat tacky
Slightly uncomfortable pink painted inside
Sparingly decorated
With some second or third hand
Furniture.
Just a few vinyl-leather benches
And a laminated desk
Really.
An anonymous woman
Stands on a carpeted box
In the center
Of the wall-to-wall
Carpeted room.
The tailor kneels
In front of her.
“No, no honey! Look straight ahead!”
She said in her thick accent.
She appears to be in her mid-forties.
A jet-black haired Romanian gypsy.
She is the ony life
In the shop.
She sticks pins
In her mouth
And in the base
Of the gown
That the woman
Is wearing.
She tells the woman
To go get changed
And writes a receipt
Up on paper.
Old school.
There is no computer.
When the woman returns
The tailor
Adds her gown
To the several racks
Behind her desk.
“Two weeks!”
She commanded
And gave her a firm date.
“You can try it on here to see if you like.”
“And Honey...I don’t take the credit cards. Cash only.”
She nods to me
And tells me
To go into the same closet
And change.
Which I do.
When I come out
She instructs me
“Sweetie!”
“Get up there!”
Gesturing to the box
In the middle of the room.
“Oh my god! Sweetie, that’s a beautiful suit!”
I can’t argue with her.
It looks good in her mirrors.
I’m wearing
A top-tier
Hugo Boss
Finest-Virgin-Wool
Number
Designed by
Baldessarini.
The label shows
That it was
Client-made
For my friend’s father
Who was a high profile lawyer
In Philly.
He died
And I ended up
With one of his suits.
She showed me
Where she was going
To tuck in the sides
Of the jacket.
It really did look better.
She could see my half-smile.
“That looks really good, right sweetie?”
I nodded in confirment.
It was while she was determining
How she was going to take in
The pants
That the door-chime rang
And the front door to the store
Opened.
A beaten man walked in.
He had a gimp leg.
He shuffled in and closed the door.
His skin was yellow.
His hair silver and greasy.
He was dirty from the world outside.
He placed a filthy orange parka coat
On the desk.
Without missing a beat
The tailor walked over and picked up the coat
Inspecting it.
“I need the zipper fixed.”
He drawled.
“Winter’s coming.”
He had broken teeth
And his right hand
Was all fucked up.
She inspected the zipper.
“Well...”
She said.
“If I can just fix it, it’ll be ten dollars. If I have to replace it, it’ll be sixteen...”
“Fine, fine.”
Came out of him.
She wrote his name and phone number
Down on a receipt.
He didn’t want to take
His fucked up right hand
From his pocket
Out of embarrassment
Taking the receipt
With his left.
“Two weeks Sweetie.”
She gave him a firm date.
She called him
‘Sweetie’
Too.
The tailor came back to me
And finished up
With the pants.
When she gave me my receipt
Telling me the same two week eta
And that she only took cash...
I asked her...
“Is that guy that was just in here a repair or a replacement?”
“I don’t know until I look at it.”
She replied.
“Well then. Consider it a replacement.”
I said
And handed her a twenty.
“You can put the difference towards my suit.”
“Just don’t tell him who it was from.”
I looked at her knowingly.
I’ll be there on the exact date
Specified on her receipt
With
Cash.
And she better
Call
Me
‘Sweetie’.
I think she has it
In her.
