the tuxedo

[rm]

So the tuxedo from Duchess arrived while we were in the Carribean. We got back, I brought it home, and I unpacked it, but didn't try it on. I needed studs not just for the shirt, but for the waistcoat and detachable collar and had to assemble them. And, in taking the thing out of the box, I was sort of hit by the emotional weight of it; I'm like that about good clothes in general and have written often here about the private loneliness and grace I find in the act of tending to clothes. And, let's be honest, I always do have a little half-second of "hrrr" when I hand my suits and dress shirts up, all in a nice row in my closet, next to, among other things, my vintage great coat. There are a hundred lives in that closet that aren't actually mine.

Anyway, so yesterday Meryl from Duchess emails me and is all "how is it?!?" and I had to confess I had not tried it on yet, but Patty and I were planning to go out that night and I'd let her know. Of course, we didn't go out, so this morning before I got dressed for the theater, I said fuck it and decided to try it on.

Oh. My. God.

I had asked them to make it as trim as possible while still disguising my female body, and I was nervous about that decision since I didn't know how that would work. Certainly, I've written before about the way the combination of my height and hips and how I have suit built to hide those hips make me stocky as a man, which is sorta bizarre when you've spent your whole life being as slight as I am.

There's also the simple truth that a tuxedo, with its single button does, of all male attire, give the mainstream man the most hourglass figure he ever has in the modern, public world. I was worried about the degree these things would all combine and have a sort of Garbo effect. Not that that would be bad, but it's really, really not what I wanted to be going for.

Well, my eternal cheer-leading for Duchess Clothier remains. The suit is trim. Snug. Nips my waist just as it should and yet still hides my hips, still gives me a male silhouette and is still clearly historical/vintage-inspired. It's shocking. It's evocative. It's practically poured-on.

It's sort of bizarre. To the point that I don't really know how to articulate both its awesomeness and how I respond to it. Just, Gallifrey One people? Trust me when I say you are going to be blown away.

It seems, also, that I have finally found a piece of clothing I cannot get into in five minutes or less (and I say this as a corset owner). Tuxedo studs are ridiculously fiddly. And detachable collars only add to the horror on that front. But it's great. I mean, it shouldn't be easy, right?

Comments

[matthewwdaly.livejournal.com]

I can't help you with detachable collars, but I fell into a pattern for studs that works well for me. Push the studs through the first (inner) layer of the shirt before you put it on. Then when you have the shirt on, put your thumb behind the stud (against your chest) and your index and middle fingers on either side of the buttonhole on the outside, and push the stud through the hole.

[marcmagus]

Good hint. I've also used this process to good effect. Similarly, I find I can attach cuff-links before I put on my shirt, which saves awkward wrist action or asking someone to close them for me.

Another thing I've been finding effective for studs is to put them in after the shirt is on, but push them in from outside to inside. All of my stud sets have a thinner back section than front section, so they go through more easily that way.