I got my suit at the weekend, after lots of back and forth around Union Square in San Francisco. I’m very happy with what I ended up with, but I suspect Cassie thinks I’m going to look like Rodney Dangerfield in Caddyshack crossed with Nucky Thompson. I’m going for a more subtle vibe than that, but I think it’s going to look pretty good.

It came down to a choice between a suit by an Italian designer I’ve never heard of in Barney’s of New York, and a suit by an Italian designer I’ve never heard of in Couture on Sutter. I was leaning towards the latter, so I went to Barney’s to check out the former one last time, and decided to go with the latter. When I told Sean (the Barney’s salesboy) that I was leaving it, he asked where I was getting my suit. I told him, and he sneered and rolled his eyes. We asked what the problem was, and he basically said, “I thought you said you wanted a suit you could wear again”. Neither suit was cheap. Sean then refused to elaborate, and it became unpleasant. Here’s a tip, Sean of Barney’s of New York: you may not agree with your customer’s choices, but until you’ve been my tailor for ten years, you don’t get to sneer and roll your eyes as a feeble sales tactic to undermine my confidence in my decision. Either have a good reason I shouldn’t buy from a particular store, or shut up and go away.

We continue…

I’ve heard a lot of people describe people who have died as having “passed”. But when people ask about my parents and the wedding, and I tell them they’ve passed, what do they think?

“Hi Mum and Dad, would you like to come to my wedding?”
“Nah, we’ll pass, cheers”