Forty-Two

I am not a big shopper. In fact, I am usually a point A to point B in fifteen minutes or less type of shopper. However, Steve and I recently left the kids at home and went to the mall. Over the past year Steve has shrunk right out of his clothes. After too many runs and swims to count, his suits hung two inches over his shoulders and his neck shot straight out of his shirt, leaving an inch around his collar. On Sunday mornings Steve would emerge from the closet with his sport coat looking more like a double breasted jacket. He would flash me a grin, hoping for a vote of confidence. I would shake my head and send him back in the closet for a change. So when we arrived in the men's department at Nordstrom, Steve walked right past the 46 rack, the size he abandoned months before. He slowed at the 44s and began fingering the jackets. He pulled out a pin stripe in charcoal grey and a herringbone blazer. A man with grey hair combed across his scalp and glasses perched on the end of his nose, gentile in nature, introduced himself as the sales associate. Steve held up a classic two button tweed. The man raised one eyebrow. "Sir, our selection of 42s would be a more suitable fit for you." He pulled out an Abboud and a Hart Shaffner Marx. "With your slim body type, you really should choose a European line. The US brands are just too boxy for men like you." Steve and I glanced at each other, with a glimmer in our eyes. "You need something tapered in the waistline." Steve and I hid our smiles. "Trim men like yourself really should be fitted for a jacket. Many of these brands are just going to have too much material in them for you." Steve chose a grey wool with a fine stripe. He paid the bill and we walked out of the store, leaving his new suit to be fitted, size forty-two.