I don't like suits.

    Hell, those of you who know me know that I rarely don anything more formal than khakis and a collared shirt, and even those only when forced to do so by circumstance. For the most part, I am a T-shirt and jeans guy. I am secure in my lack of stylish attire, because I enjoy wearing old comfortable clothes, clothes that I can accidentally stain with grass, dirt, tomatoes, etc. and it won't terribly bother me.

    However, as previously mentioned in this diary, all of my friends are getting married. Now, for a few of the weddings, I got away with khakis and a collared shirt. I had one for a friend married in her parents' backyard, and one for two friends who were married in a small ceremony off in Las Vegas (albeit not by Elvis, alas) and just invited friends to a local celebratory dinner party at a later date. This struck me as a great plan.

    For this other wedding, though, I was going to need a suit. This struck me as a shame, especially since I'd gotten through two weddings without one. I don't have a suit, because I don't like them and I have no occasion to wear one. So, I went home and rummaged around in the basement with my parents. I didn't find a usable suit, but I did find an old tuxedo that belonged to my grandfather. While it is possible that this may have been the height of fashion in the raging 20s, the wide lapels and polka-dot inner pattern were very different from the norm today.

    I loved it. Perhaps a small part of this is my desire to go against the usual, but mainly I liked it because in spite of everything I had experienced with fancy clothes, this tuxedo jacket was very comfortable. I wore it to the wedding (which ended up working well because I was giving the toast), and everyone was surprised that I had a tux.

    Now, I have another wedding coming up. I actually forget where it is, but it's in less than a month and I don't have transportation, so I should get working on that. And I'm a suit-monkey (read: groomsman) for it, so I can't really be late. To make matters worse, all the suit-monkeys need matching tuxedos, so I can't wear grandpa's comfy polka-dot lined number, but instead had to go get measured for a new one.

    Of course, I'm sure all of you formal people are used to going measurement-shopping. I, however, had no idea what the heck to do-- Especially since I felt bad going to a shop and asking them to measure me so I could take my business somewhere else (I had been asked to send measurements to the groom's mother, who was ordering the tuxedos). But I went in and timidly said that I needed measurements, and I wasn't sure which ones, and might not even be buying the tux from them, and for some reason the woman smiled and took all the measurements.

    My one consolation is that my parents will probably help cover the cost of the tuxedo, because I'm already paying for transportation and lodging, so they know if they didn't help with the tux, I'd wear my grandfather's old polka-dot tuxedo, bringing shame to my family name.

    Although I say if it was good enough for my grandfather, it's good enough for me.