stevechasmar
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Getting a Linen Suit Made in Bangkok
I apologize for being so slow with my posts. A combination of work and illness have made these past weeks less than productive. Rather stupidly, I recently accepted work in the form of updating yet another guidebook, and this has meant much more running around than I am used to doing. Really, guidebook writing is for younger men. I told myself that once I hit 40 I would turn these offers down, but all it takes is the promise of a bit of paid-for travel and I tend to forget all the work that goes along with it. Thank God for the internet or I would never get this done. As for the illness, I wish it could have been something exotic like dengue fever but, embarrassingly, it's been nothing more than a good old fashioned, butt-kicking cold.
Ah, so about that linen suit...
My first fitting was a disappointment. The jacket looked like nothing more than a tattered, chalk-marked vest, and the trousers had been misplaced. On the second fitting a week later the jacket was alarmingly tight. I pointed this out to the tailor but he seemed unperturbed, and asked me again if I wanted authentic vintage style. Of course I said I did. A few days later -- last Monday -- I went in to pick up the finished product and was dumbstruck by my image in the mirror. Nothing seemed the fit. The jacket was way too tight, the sleeves sliding half-way up my arms when I held them out in front of me. The trousers, on the other hand, were way too big. I had seen this coming of course but I just took it on faith that the tailor knew what I wanted. How many times in the past have I opened my mouth only to find that I should have just been patient? Not this time apparently.
It took a few minutes to get to the bottom of things but I finally figured out where my tailor was taking his inspiration as to what pre-WWII styles should look like. He led me back to the innermost area of his shop and pointed out a poster of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. The jackets on both men were a couple of sizes too small. The tailor then reminded me that Charlie Chaplin also had his suits cut in the same manner: small jacket, baggy trousers. "But they were comedians!" I heard myself protesting in my head. Of course no such protestations had left my lips. To "break" the tailor's face would have been counterproductive, so I instead told him that I had made a mistake, and that I didn't really want authentic vintage style. We did the measurements all over again and I am now supposed to go in for a fitting next Monday. Except that I have to go back to Cambodia for another ten days at least, so it won't be until the end of the month before this will start again in earnest.
Am I giving up? Hell no! I've already invested too much time and money into this. I'm sure it will turn out all right in the end. Things in Asia always do.
For those of you still following me, thank you for your patience!
All best,
Steven
I apologize for being so slow with my posts. A combination of work and illness have made these past weeks less than productive. Rather stupidly, I recently accepted work in the form of updating yet another guidebook, and this has meant much more running around than I am used to doing. Really, guidebook writing is for younger men. I told myself that once I hit 40 I would turn these offers down, but all it takes is the promise of a bit of paid-for travel and I tend to forget all the work that goes along with it. Thank God for the internet or I would never get this done. As for the illness, I wish it could have been something exotic like dengue fever but, embarrassingly, it's been nothing more than a good old fashioned, butt-kicking cold.
Ah, so about that linen suit...
My first fitting was a disappointment. The jacket looked like nothing more than a tattered, chalk-marked vest, and the trousers had been misplaced. On the second fitting a week later the jacket was alarmingly tight. I pointed this out to the tailor but he seemed unperturbed, and asked me again if I wanted authentic vintage style. Of course I said I did. A few days later -- last Monday -- I went in to pick up the finished product and was dumbstruck by my image in the mirror. Nothing seemed the fit. The jacket was way too tight, the sleeves sliding half-way up my arms when I held them out in front of me. The trousers, on the other hand, were way too big. I had seen this coming of course but I just took it on faith that the tailor knew what I wanted. How many times in the past have I opened my mouth only to find that I should have just been patient? Not this time apparently.
It took a few minutes to get to the bottom of things but I finally figured out where my tailor was taking his inspiration as to what pre-WWII styles should look like. He led me back to the innermost area of his shop and pointed out a poster of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. The jackets on both men were a couple of sizes too small. The tailor then reminded me that Charlie Chaplin also had his suits cut in the same manner: small jacket, baggy trousers. "But they were comedians!" I heard myself protesting in my head. Of course no such protestations had left my lips. To "break" the tailor's face would have been counterproductive, so I instead told him that I had made a mistake, and that I didn't really want authentic vintage style. We did the measurements all over again and I am now supposed to go in for a fitting next Monday. Except that I have to go back to Cambodia for another ten days at least, so it won't be until the end of the month before this will start again in earnest.
Am I giving up? Hell no! I've already invested too much time and money into this. I'm sure it will turn out all right in the end. Things in Asia always do.
For those of you still following me, thank you for your patience!
All best,
Steven
