The Suits

My aunt gave me four of my uncles suits the other day. They’re real nice Christian Dior, Perry Ellis, name brand suits, one of the suits was made from one-hundred percent Lama hair. Fina Lama. That suit has a vest, which I like quite a bit.

When I put the suits on I’m reminded of my uncle and what he stood for. He was a highly successful man, who had many material possessions. He did things with class. The suits still have the scent of his cologne on them. He had nice taste in clothes and cars, but for some reason his taste in real estate feel short of my expectations. He was satisfied with tract homes. This part of his personality struck me as odd. He’d drive a brand new Ferrari, while wearing a nice suit and a Rolex watch, his shoes were shined perfectly, but he lived in a tract home. I didn’t get it. It wasn’t consistent in anyway. I always saw him owning a nice Spanish style home built in the twenties, something dignified. But no, he bought tract homes in middle class neighborhoods, not impressive at all.

I have some of his suits and I’m thankful. I’ve already worn two of them and received many compliments during the course of the night while wearing them. In today’s world, in my social circle, suits are over the top, which is a shame. Kids today just don’t know how to dress, or don’t have the self-esteem to put on a nice suit. I noticed this the other night. I had my suit on a double breasted blue suit, and was surrounded by kids in blue jeans and sneakers. Maybe I should be cavorting with the Wall Street crowd or rich rappers, or the French. I wish it wasn’t so, but it is. In my day even the men and women being hosed down with a water canon had suits on. The poor of the poor wore suits. They couldn’t eat with the white people, but they had a suit on.