“And you can fly
High as a kite if you want to
Faster than light if you want to
Speeding through the universe
Thinking is the best way to travel.”
~Mike Pinder (Moody Blues)
Several years ago, in the infancy of our travel adventures, we booked tickets to see “Swan Lake” in St. Petersburg. Yeah, the one in Russia. Still several months away from our ship’s departure from Florida, we began to imagine the experience and try to picture ourselves in such a setting.
Wait. What?
We live at the beach in SoCal. Our wardrobe consists mainly of shorts, tshirts, and flip-flops – year ‘round. Maybe we needed to consider shopping for something “appropriate” for Tchaikovsky? Should I buy a necktie & dress shirt? Would a blazer be required? An actual “suit”? (If they expect formal wear I’ll stay home, with Jonathan Bing.)
We’ve been to the symphony and the ballet before (at the Music Center in Los Angeles), but it’s been decades and the clothes that we wore back then didn’t survive our Stalinist closet Purges.
Time for research.
I called our cruise line and explained our predicament, but without going into embarrassing details about our normal habiliments. Her response was something along the lines of “some folks might enjoy more formal attire but you won’t be out of place with business casual or resort casual.”
Gosh, thanks a lot.
Time for more research.
Google is your friend but one question leads to another and half an hour later you’ve learned just how much you still need to know. One thing was clear: I needed to go shopping.
The gods were smiling and directed us to the Men Swear house where there was a ‘buy one, get one free’ sale in progress.
I can’t say with certainty but based upon the evidence gathered from our visit, when you walk into such a store, haberdashers possess a sense akin to sharks/blood. But in a good way.
Somewhere between my mention of the Ballet, my “deer in the headlight” expression, and my ‘de rigueur’ coastal costume, The Sorcerer knew not only ALL of my measurements without benefit of a tape measure, but exactly what colors & patterns would survive being forced to spend time near me. His questions were professional yet compassionate: I never felt like the idiot we both knew I was; I never sensed that he was trying to wring the last cent out of my wallet; and I constantly was made to feel that he understood my desire NOT to embarrass myself, by bride, or my country.
When we were finished I left the store with two sport coats, two dress slacks, two belts, four silk neckties, four dress shirts, two ‘polo’ shirts, two pairs of socks and two pairs of shoes. (And my wallet was feeling violated.)All of these items were completely interchangeable, making at least a dozen combinations of outfits. A very nice trick since, as my father used to say, all my taste is in my mouth. No one who knows me would ever suspect that I get dressed all by myself.
We joked for months beforehand that the ballet might turn out to be a junior high school production with an orchestra of special ed. students and dancers that had to wear helmets. When we’d tell people that we attended a performance of Swan Lake in St. Petersburg, they’d never know how awful it was.
We’ve joked for years afterwards that we had no way of being prepared for how perfect the evening was. Perfection in every way. When we tell people that we attended a performance of Swan Lake in St. Petersburg, they’d never know how perfect it was. My bride was gorgeous and I didn’t like like a homeless refugee.
I still wear those clothes sometimes. The corduroy jacket served as my “traveling clothes”, covering my existential nakedness in airports and restaurants until it began looking as threadbare as my scalp. The slacks spent a few years in the closet, waiting for me to cast off unneeded souvenirs of those restaurants. (Mission accomplished – the slacks are traveling again!)
And the shoes.
They spend most of their time in the closet except when we’re traveling. Last Saturday, when we went to the Medicare breakfast seminar, I got them out again.
As if by magic, when I put them on my feet I was back at the ballet in St. Petersburg. Those shoes remember the creaking of the old wooden floor in that theatre and, apparently they appreciate NOT having to carry the subsequent extra baggage that prevented the shoes and slacks from enjoying a night out together.
Swine Lake, indeed.
B & B 