On buying new pants

So I gave in. Yep, no pressed jeans for the wedding. New trousers.

Back from the park this morning. Maria says, “Okay, Spot’s done in, let’s go for a walk downtown to Herzog’s and get you a good fitting pair of pants.” I, done in also, acquiesce and off we go.

We walk at a good clip and enter Herzog’s clothing store in a half an hour. A fine looking old gent dressed to the nines pulls himself off of a stool and greets us warmly. “What can I do for you this morning folks?” Maria tells him I need new pants; dress pants; pants that fit and don’t hang like bags.”

“Hmmmm,” he muses, “you look size thirty-four.”

“Nope,” say I, “close but I’m a thirty-two.”

“Hmmmm,” says he again, “what colour are you looking for?” I tell him the colours of my three sports jackets and he immediately says, “Tope, you will want a tope colour. Tope goes with everything.” I acquiesce again.

We go over to a rack that has dress pants just waiting to be purchased. He picks out a pair for me. “Well. . . just take these to the fitting room and try them on. We will go from there.”

Into the room. Off shoes and shorts; on new strides. I have forgotten my glasses and I can’t read the size nor can I read the price. Except for the length they fit perfectly. Not baggy, not too snug. Herzog’s do alterations so the extra foot of length is no bother.

I step out to show Maria and the gent. Maria thinks they look great as does the salesman (why wouldn’t he?). “I’ll take them,” sez I.

“Just stand over their and I’ll turn them up and pin them,” directs he.

Pinned, I return to the change room. Off with the new; on with the old.

He makes out the bill. I pay. $79.00!! My first car didn’t cost that much. Never mind, they are a good looking pair of strides and I feel quite comfy in them. “You can pick them up next Friday,” says the old gent.

“By the bye,” I say to him, “what size are they?

“Thirty four.”

“Jeez,” I reply, “I’ve been exercising and keeping a good diet for months.”

To which he replies, “Keep at it.”