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elfsMy first job out of university was with Prudential Bache Securities. A Wall-Street investment firm that was looking to get into fixed income in a big way, they had come to Florida and opened shop. The problem was, their in-house spreadsheet demos, the 1989-era software they used to show their clients how various portfolios would work, were all stock-oriented. Fixed income is bond-based, and they needed updates stat. Fresh from college with an accounting minor (no, really, and no, I don't remember a damn thing about it, hated every second of it, Omaha handles the household's finances) and a programming major so dark-ages I had COBOL in my CV, Bache hired me.
I mention all of this just to keep in mind the dress code at Bache. This was flamin' Florida, man, and yet the Wall Street Dress Code™ specified coat-and-tie every flamin' day. I swear, Bache's employee manual required sock garters, although blessed be nobody ever checked if I was wearing any.
But there was a constant. The coat may have come from Burdines, the pants from JC Penny, the shoes only God knows where, but the shirt and the tie were pure Brooks Brothers.
Today, I walked into Brooks Brothers for the first time in over twenty years and bought a shirt. It was the first shirt I've bought in years that goddamned fit. I have the build of a swimmer with the gorilla wingspan to match, and shirts at big-box stores just don't make it: every shirt with arms long enough for me also features necks for bouncers and blouses for beachballs. If I wanted to wear a tent, I'd buy my clothes from Coleman.
It was an expensive shirt. It was the cheapest shirt they sold, and it was $73. Even with my tatty herribone sport coat and Costco-bought black chino slacks, it was one hell of an upgrade from the sports-store bought shirt I'd worn into the store. I haven't looked like that in twenty years, like I ought to be commanding a million dollars. I was astonished by the effect of buying clothes that fit. Which is what I really did-- I bought a shirt that actually fit me for the first time in twenty years.
Anyway, I warned Omaha that if the shirt wore and laundered well over the next month, I intended to buy three more of them.
I mention all of this just to keep in mind the dress code at Bache. This was flamin' Florida, man, and yet the Wall Street Dress Code™ specified coat-and-tie every flamin' day. I swear, Bache's employee manual required sock garters, although blessed be nobody ever checked if I was wearing any.
But there was a constant. The coat may have come from Burdines, the pants from JC Penny, the shoes only God knows where, but the shirt and the tie were pure Brooks Brothers.
Today, I walked into Brooks Brothers for the first time in over twenty years and bought a shirt. It was the first shirt I've bought in years that goddamned fit. I have the build of a swimmer with the gorilla wingspan to match, and shirts at big-box stores just don't make it: every shirt with arms long enough for me also features necks for bouncers and blouses for beachballs. If I wanted to wear a tent, I'd buy my clothes from Coleman.
It was an expensive shirt. It was the cheapest shirt they sold, and it was $73. Even with my tatty herribone sport coat and Costco-bought black chino slacks, it was one hell of an upgrade from the sports-store bought shirt I'd worn into the store. I haven't looked like that in twenty years, like I ought to be commanding a million dollars. I was astonished by the effect of buying clothes that fit. Which is what I really did-- I bought a shirt that actually fit me for the first time in twenty years.
Anyway, I warned Omaha that if the shirt wore and laundered well over the next month, I intended to buy three more of them.
