rm | the tuxedo

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?