The Suit

I look in the mirror at the pale, naked form in front of me. The permanent frown, the unkempt hair. The acne pock-marked skin cratering my face and chest. I notice a few new spider veins appearing on my nose, the red spaghetti signposts of beer and scotch marking my features with their detritus. 44 years of abuse from the sun and alcohol have left their toll. Who could find this attractive?

I bend over to pick up the underwear from the floor and put them on one leg at a time. Boxers today. I remember when the toughest decision i had to make was whether to go boxers and briefs. Also a time when there was always the chance that a new lover would see the result of those decisions. My penis twitches slightly as my thoughts move back to tales of lovers past, both real and imagined.

I let out a sigh as those dreams fragment with the laser of reality.  Now days, its just the wife who sees me in my underwear state, and she doesn't seem to care, I think sadly. The penis, interest gone, returns to its original state.

I pick up my freshly warmed shirt that I had spent the last 10 minutes trying to iron into some semblance of respectability. Today it was the purple, pattered number, though I did notice for the first time, that the collar was starting to show some signs of wear and tear. Much like its owner, I muse sadly. Still, might be time for a new shirt. Or a new life.

The shirt goes on, arm by arm, and I slowly do up the buttons, thinking about the plans for the day ahead. Head down, bum up. The usual. The Monday morning shuffle. They say you are supposed to be at your most motivated at the beginning of the week. That certainly isn't me today.

But my eyes light up when I gaze at my last piece of clothing. My suit, standing at attention. I love my suit. Dark grey, 100% cotton, single breasted. The wizards cloak, but not invisible. Invincible.

I pull on the pants. The reflection improves. Already my beer gut has gone. The hair combed, the nose becomes smaller, less prominent. Those spider veins disappear, the lunar landscape of my face looks more like a plain than the mountains. Constant and warm. Black boots, freshly polished, appear as if by magic on my charcoal coloured, silk clad feet.

The Jacket goes on last. Crisp, clean. Shoulders back, guns out. I check out my profile. Already I feel better about the day. Plans and projects flow into my brain, awakened from the sleep. Meetings to be had, checkpoints to meet. Hot co-workers to inappropriately flirt with.

A smile warms my face, and the spark of fire appears in the eyes. A smile slowly forms as i gaze lovingly at the man in front of me. The world awaits.

"Thanks Tom Ford", I whisper.

"You are welcome" I hear in my ears as the Suit takes its passenger into the day ahead.