Tuesday, September 9, 2008

She's a 28, so just back down.


Today at the tailor's, where I was being fitted for my sister's wedding by the world's least qualified suit pusher, I got into something of a tiff. I had sent them my details two weeks ago, stating that I am a 28" waist, wear a 34 jacket and a 15 1/2 collar. Apparently these measurements are entirely impossible and obviously a figment of my admittedly warped imagination. When I arrived I found myself faced with pants in a 32" waist and a jacket in a 38, which the salesman assured me I would need in order for it to; "go around." Around what? Me and my inferiority complex? Lord above. After negotiating my way into the correct jacket I began to tackle the trousers, much to the annoyance of the pusher who wanted to know if I was sure I knew my size. I have been buying horribly outdated slacks for a very long time now, but apparently his eagle eye overrules my own life experience. Throwing just a little bit of Hollywood bitch realness I snapped, "Well I am a 28 at Dior so I expect I am a 28 here!" So now I have a suit that fits. He wanted to debate my collar size with me but sadly couldn't find his tape measure.

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