Good tailors are unpleasant.
I know I'm leaving mine. And he said to me , “You have knock knees.” In front of the three-dimensional mirror, I swallowed my pride and grumbled : “ um... possible” .
On the other hand, in my head while he was busy, I was contemplating his assassination .
Scenario 1 : the stupid accident.
One of the sides of his polka dot suspenders will have come loose, hitting him in the head. Stunned , he slipped on a tie ancient madder in smooth silk and , in his fall , he will have skewered on a disastrous hanger...
Scenario 2 : self-defense.
He made me put on a jacket two sizes too small , too fitted and forced me to fasten both buttons . I would have agonized in silence then seen the light at the end of the tunnel and, the survival instinct guiding my action, on the verge of pituitary apoplexy I would have grabbed his tailor's scissors and would have touched him in the carotid artery .
Plausible.
While I was in my murderous daydreams , the tailor tapped me on the shoulder and said, “but that’s okay, no one is perfect.”
Speak for yourself, old man. My mother told me that I was, perfect, and I see no reason to doubt her good faith.
I take my leave, go home, take a cold shower to cool the brain that is boiling under my skull. I come out and there: Marc Levy-style epiphany. And if it was true ? What if I really had knock knees? That it wasn't just to be unpleasant but that it was also true!
I run into my room and drop the towel.
I examine myself naked in front of the full-length mirror. I look at those damn knees. My blood runs cold: those damn knees are in bad shape. Indeed, there is one that fits a little. The diagnosis is clear: knock.
Physical defects are not the first one I have encountered but the list is starting to grow.
- Long neck of diplodocus
- Short t-rex arms
- Trunk too long compared to my...
- … my legs are too short
- Right shoulder more forward than left
- And then... knock knees
I'm always naked in front of my mirror. This is my naked truth. I start to get dressed. When it's over I look at the mirror again.
Everything is gone. The list only exists in my head.
Where are the knock knees?
Where is the long neck of diplodus?
Short t-rex arms? The trunk too long, the legs too short and the right shoulder forward?
By dressing, I have just inflected my physical reality to my idea. The neck seems less long with my bandana, the legs longer with the high waist and because I wear short pants, it reduces the trunk. The cut is a little loose so knock-knees disappear.
The right shoulder moved forward, no one ever notices it anyway.
On the way to the office, I tell myself that this is an exercise that we should all do. The first thing to do when you want to dress well is not to rush for the basics that are good value for money.
The first thing to do is to get naked.
Undress.
Without taking the opportunity to look at your navel. Without feeling sorry for yourself. You are perfect in your imperfection. Understand how your body is built. What is your architecture? How is the vessel you use to navigate made? Next, build a strategy.
Do you want to erase a particular physical feature or accentuate another? Do you want to balance one thing with another?
Make a note, mental or written, and compare it with the clothes you own.
Now you will know why the clothes that fit you look good on you. Because you will be aware of how they transform you.
You have to wear clothes that transform you.
Those who transform the material of your body into a silhouette. A silhouette that you have chosen. Don't just follow the lines of your body but reinvent them through clothing. Build this idea that floats around your body, as the tailor Chevreuil said in the 19th century.
So. You know what you have left to do.
