Untimely Reflection

16.X.25

For more than a year, a bag of old clothes has been sitting in a corner. Finally, I gather enough strength to travel across town to a shop that resells finer menswear, which has been recommended to me. The sales clerk immediately makes it clear that I must make an appointment; otherwise, there can be no question of discussing consignment sales. After I have sighed long enough, looking helpless and finally convincing, she examines the garments. If nothing is suitable – the bag contains two suits, a pair of pants tailored by Torretta in Berlin, and a pair of inherited but too-small galoshes – she really doesn’t need to fit an appointment into her busy schedule.

Wise in the ways of fashion, the saleswoman notes that it’s been a long time since galoshes and wide-leg trousers with turn-ups were in style. She then examines the Savile Row suit (condition: somewhere between very good and excellent) and shakes her head in mild disapproval. Her customers would never dress like … like … She searches for the right word before deciding to let silence speak. Only the second suit, made by Herr von Eden in Hamburg, meets with approval. At least the cut is »crazy« enough to attract buyers. After which she suggests a delivery date three weeks from now.Unsettled by having three-quarters of my taste rejected, I cross the street and drop off all the garments at Myrorna. Suddenly I know more than I would care to about what it feels like to be out of fashion. When I get home, I silently wash my hands.