I used to wear suits for work, especially when I worked in Manhattan. In Los Angeles, forget about it. I had some in my closet here. Last week, I needed to revisit the wardrobe as I had a wedding that stared me in the face from my Outlook calendar. Oh, I have two sports jackets. But the suits on hangers in dusty garment bags?
Well, they no longer fit. And it's not that the pants are tighter. Since I have been regularly going to a personal trainer, my entire body shape has changed. The upper chest is much wider and broader. There is more of a V shape to my upper torso. As a result, the suit jackets felt like those they would give you in a mental institution.
I needed a suit and I didn't know where to go. It's not like my days right out of college when I was first working in Manhattan. When I would dress not alone in suits, but three-pieced ones to boot. I knew where to shop for those.
Wallach's in the Cross County Shopping Center of Yonkers, New York.
Gone were the days of Mom shopping with me for nice clothes. Going either to County Pants on Fourth Avenue in Mount Vernon or Novick's over on Mt. Vernon Avenue. Nope. I was dressing for success. The young businessman headed downtown. And I had to look sharp.
Truth be told, the very first credit card I ever had in my own name was one from Wallach's. They saw I was a serious shopper. My father would say that they saw me coming. And, thanks to years of shopping with a fashion-conscious mother, I knew how to color coordinate shirts, ties, and socks.
Every three months or so, I would go over to Wallach's and browse. I had my own sales guy who knew my fit perfectly. I'd pore through the racks of my size and see what would be my next purchase. Okay, I've already got a blue-pinstriped suit at home. And a black one. I could use gray.
The process would take at least an hour. I suddenly realized that my mom's weekly visits to Bromley's Dress Shop in Mount Vernon, which ran up a tab, were very similar to what I was doing on a regular basis at Wallach's. Technically, other than my college student loan, the very first debt that I ran up in our wonderful capitalist economy was at Wallach's.
Ka-ching. Ka-ching. Ka-ching.
Suits became my addiction. I had suits for work. I had suits for fancy events like weddings and funerals. I even started to dip into Wallach's more casual wear for those Qiana shirts and polyester-blend pants for those date nights.
It was always perfectly color coordinated. And expensive. My closet at home was jammed now.
And then I had to buy more. Body shape had changed. The 36 waist crept up to a 38. Jacket size went from 40 to 42.
Wallach's became to remodel the Cross County store. I think they did so largely with my money. And the nicer surroundings made it even easier to spend money.
Before long, I had a rotation of about 15 suits in my collection. That meant, with five workdays, I could wear the same suit just 1.5 times a month. But, just as easily as this addiction began, it ended. Fridays were suddenly out of bounds when it came to dressing up for work. Before long, all days fell into the casual category. I've looked around the Metro North train on those times when I still venture into Manhattan. Really? You're going to work like that?
Wallach's is long gone. So, for the most part, are suits. And now I shop almost exclusively on-line with Eddie Bauer. But I remember how cool it was to be suddenly an adult. With a killer wardrobe and a credit card bill that also was fairly murderous. But, I've seen lately an old photo that I have posted here before. It was the very first suit I ever bought at Wallach's. It was for a summer wedding, which explains the light color. And it was probably the most favorite suit of all of them. A Johnny Carson model.
Dinner last night: Wheat pasta shells with broccoli rabe and sausage at Fabiolus Cafe.
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