Topic: ageism (4)
Your hear-and-read option:
Listen to Chet’s story as you read it (below).
At 82, Chet still believes in presentation.
Not vanity. Presentation.
There had been a time when he carefully selected his suits because they each carried a message. As public relations manager for Greyhound, he had spent years standing in hotel conference rooms and small-town chambers of commerce, explaining things that required calm, credibility, and a tie that knew how to behave.
His favorite suit was hand made in 1997 by a local tailor who spoke little but noticed everything. The fabric had weight without heaviness. The color sat somewhere between charcoal and quiet authority. The lapels were generous in a way that once suggested confidence.
Chet wore that suit through the turn of the century and into retirement. It carried him through speeches and award dinners. He kept it.
Almost 30 years later, the suit still hung in his closet.
But it simply no longer agreed with him. The jacket resisted at the buttons. The pants held a crease that felt more historical than intentional. The lapels, once confident, now seemed to arrive in the room ahead of him.
Chet stood in front of the mirror and considered the situation.
He did not need a suit anymore. That was clear. People dressed differently now.
Still, there were moments. Weddings. Funerals. Occasions where a photo might be taken and kept.
Chet had seen those photos. The older man in the back row. Shirt slightly ballooned. A crooked tie not quite cooperating. A poor-fitting jacket that suggested it had been chosen by someone else.
He had no interest in becoming that man.
After all, funerals, like weddings, remained public relations events. Different message. Same principle.
He turned to the Internet.
He typed in “men’s suits” and was introduced to names that sounded less like clothing and more like software updates. Slim fit. Athletic fit. European cut. Sustainable blends. Performance stretch.
It all required translation.
He called Jason.
Jason, at 28, had grown up watching Chet dress with intention, even when the audience was limited to a grocery store cashier.
They met on a Saturday. Jason looked at the 1997 suit the way a museum curator might look at a well-preserved artifact.
“This is … strong,” Jason candidly remarked.
“It was appropriate,” Chet replied.
“It still is,” Jason said carefully. “Just not in the way you want now.”
They drove to a store Chet had never heard of, located in a shopping area that had once been an industrial district.
Inside, no one seemed rushed. A young man approached them. Not a salesman exactly. More of a guide.
“What are we working toward today?” he asked.
Chet appreciated the phrasing.
“A funeral,” Chet said. “And whatever comes after.”
The guide nodded.
“Understood.”
What followed felt less like shopping and more like a quiet lesson.
Chet was introduced to the idea that a jacket could sit closer without squeezing. That pants could fall cleanly without announcing their presence. That a shirt could cooperate.
He tried on a suit that did not insist on being noticed.
He stood in front of the mirror.
Something had shifted.
The man looking back at him still appeared to take presentation seriously. But he also seemed to understand the room he was entering.
Jason stepped beside him.
“That looks like you,” Jason said.
Chet considered that. Not younger. Not trendier. Just … current ... with no unnecessary extra buttons or hooks.
They added a shirt that did not billow. A tie that suggested intention without nostalgia. Shoes that looked as though they had agreed to the arrangement.
On the drive home, Jason glanced over to Chet.
“You did good,” he said.
Chet nodded.
“I learned something,” he said.
“What?”
“That the message changes,” Chet said. “But the responsibility does not.”
The following week, Chet stood in the back row at a family funeral.
He did not draw attention.
He did not disappear.
When the photographs were taken, he stood with a posture that suggested he understood both the moment and his place in it.
Later, Lilly, his daughter, showed him one of the pictures on her phone.
“That’s a good look, Dad,” Lilly allowed.
Chet studied the image.
The suit did not speak loudly.
It did not need to.
It simply did its job.
Subscriber Benefit: Copy/paste image below and this link to share Chet’s story in your email.
Age: Our Greatest Asset!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Growing Together”
Weekly Stories About Insightful Aging
Accolade: “I particularly like reading Jim Hasse. His stories reminds us to treat others with respect.“ - Jan. S. K.
How to use “My Latest Legacy Nugget” resources to share
your “52 Shades of Graying” comment with a family member or friend.
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - birthday
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - graduation day
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - holiday greeting
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - special day
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - wedding anniversary
Template for “My Latest Legacy Nugget” note - wedding day
See all past issues of “52 Shades of Graying.”
See all past chats of “52 Shades of Levity.”
Check guidelines for your “52 Shades of Graying” Discussion Group.
It's my great pleasure to share with you this message and song from my amazing neighbor, Joe:
"Jim, your fine recent piece, 'Chet Updates his Dress-up Outfit,' put me in mind of this little video of mine, 'Forgotten Melodies:'
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lANDxLADzgU
"I put it together for Lyn's and my 48th anniversary and, unlike many other poems and songs, there is no fantasy here. Just a simple description of the events on a long-ago motorcycle trip of mine .... with a simple intro on the attire one might wear on such a journey."
------------------------------------------
Joe Muldoon
I love today's quarter-length zipper sweaters and tops for men. That means I can avoid a tie and a button-down shirt and still look a bit dressed up.
Ties and suits basically left my life in 1995.
At 83, I struggle with small buttons. All my button shirts remain buttoned from wash to wash, and I put them on overhead by unbuttoning only the top button if I have to.
I still wear a belt because my hips have disappeared, but my next move is from jeans to sport/jogging pants with a tie around my middle. And I wear tie shoes because I need the support they provide.
Aging is being practical with a stylish creativity that doesn’t require nimble fingers.
* As an older adult, how have you managed to keep your dress-up clothes accessible and fashionable?