Horrendous and hot sweaty plastic bagging under the shirt ends a brief thirty minute stop over at a suit store nearby a creek. Strolling with a voucher in hand, the most important deal was to secure a new spiffy black leather belt. Policy restricts handing out cash and the task then grew into a hunt for what other parts of a dress code would fulfil the limit of a clean one hundred.
M&S Suit City is a place with no room, all taken out by racks and rows of clothing. Most of it made from obscene microfibre. Every step ushered toward the pants or shirts were pulled away from such a disgusting state. Wool and cotton blends holding faint refuge. Selecting, inspecting, choosing, fitting, all the usual acts of testing out new clothes. Sweats were building, too many hangers lining the eyesight, so many threads and racks making each decision an ordeal.
Twenty minutes later, wanting out and making up a total of the voucher, the morning was thankfully washed away with a black shirt, black pants and a black belt.
Monday, 8 November 2004 - 04:02
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