the seersucker suit mystery
It’s spring, but summer blew in this week with a heat wave that forced me to crank up the air conditioning in my house. I was waiting as long as I could because the dogs dug trenches around the AC unit. They covered it with dirt. I’m just hoping the unit doesn’t blow up.Meanwhile, I bought myself a new seersucker suit last month at Dumas in Charleston. That’s the place every Southerner worth his grits buys seersucker. I was disappointed they didn’t have any madras bow ties to go with the suit.
They had to alter the suit some. The pants to seersucker suits have to be cuffed if you live in the South. Also, both the coat and pants should not be lined, which means to wear white draw-ers with your pants. Don’t buy white boxers that snap. If you put on inches in the waist, they come unsnapped when you lean over.
Dumas was going to send the suit to me, but Son Radisson, who plans to live in Charleston, said he would bring it. Naturally, he forgot and they had to send the suit. I didn’t get it until the end of May.
The suit was wrinkled, so I took it to White Swan to have it pressed. There was lots of other Dana clothing there because Son Brenton is in-terning at The Heritage Foundation in Washing-ton, D. C., this summer. Radisson also cleaned out his Pathfinder with clothing that had been riding around in it since it came off the assem-bly line in 1999.
Naturally, I got stuck with the bill. It was astro-nomical.
But it was worth it because I was going to look mighty sharp in that blue seersucker suit with my white bucks and madras bow tie that was hiding in my closet.
First things first. I had to drive Brenton to DC. Radisson decided to go, too. They had fits and countless bouts with restless leg syndrome be-cause I drove 65 miles an hour the whole way. I was real proud of myself because I limited them to two pit stops, I found the hotel without get-ting lost and my Subaru got 28 miles to the gal-lon.
Brenton is ensconced at The Heritage Founda-tion. Thursday was seersucker suit day for the interns and he was decked for the occasion. He was even wearing his Palmetto state bow tie.
Back at the ranch in Darlington, I went by the White Swan in Darlington today to pick up my suit. I wanted it in time to wear to church Sun-day.
The clerk said it had already been picked up. She added, “Your son that looks like you got it last week. I told him it was your suit, but he in-sisted it was his.”
Long story short: Brenton has my seersucker suit and his in DC. There’s no way he can wear mine because I have him by at least six inches in the waist. He doesn’t expect to return to civi-lization until August. And I assure you I’m not going to drive back to DC until he’s through.
What are the chances of his mailing it to me? About as good as Radisson remembering to bring it to me from Charleston.
I guess I’ll just have to make do with my blazer and white-duck pants. At least I’ve got my ma-dras bow tie and white bucks.
And the dogs can’t wait to jump on me.
Posted by on 06/06 at 04:38 PM
Pepper occasionally ganks my socks, but I can usually find them somewhere in my house. As a cat, I think he thinks it’s his duty to protect me from my evil hosiery.
That’s the closest I can get to having a similar parenting experience, Dwight!
Once upon a time, when I was growing up, I could sometimes borrow jewelry or shoes from my mom. I don’t think I ever took any of it a few hundred miles away, though.