Since I wrote Black Tie Formal about the 2005 Golden Globes, which was my first black tie event ever, I’ve had the opportunity to don my formalwear four more times. The attire is simple and appropriate – the kind of outfit you’d call a workhorse – and I like it because it was all off-the-rack stuff from Macy’s. I have a black suit, a black tie, and sleazy, Italian shoes buffed bright enough to guide ships in the fog. The suit is my tuxedo. There’s no bowtie and no cumber bun, but the traditional monkey suit seems old-fashioned and the shimmering silk necktie makes me feel in vogue.
There is something cosmic about that suit. Once I bought it I needed it. My brother got married and I needed the suit, some of Jill’s friends got married and I needed the suit; the Golden Globes came back around and I needed the suit. Andrew Eddy invited Jill and me to go with him and Lisa to a charity dinner and I needed the suit. It’s a hellofa suit. I’m wearing it later this month at an advertising event and next month in Seattle. Who knew you could go black tie in Seattle.
Here is a picture of me looking tense in my suit with some other people...
This flurry of black tie events makes me wonder – Is my suit a metaphor? Does the assumption of ownership cause the stars to align giving it purpose? Did my purchase of a formal suit somehow secure my brothers wedding? Does that fact that I own a black suit mean I will get invited to charity dinners, and industry events? How do they know?
Perhaps I should take this cosmic coincidence for a spin and see how it handles: hotel reservations in Europe with no plans to go – I’ll just see what happens. Porsches are awfully expensive these days, but maybe if I buy the keychain a Porsche will just manifest. I’ve never owned a company, but maybe if I start screwing people someone will just give me one.
I apologize if my stars aligning in anyway disjoint your stars. I promise I won’t be using them long. There is already a cigarette burn in my suit.
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