I admit that I’m cheating. Linda’s prompt for this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday challenge is to write a post about the title of a book you’re currently reading or one that is closest to you as you write this post.
Sorry Linda, but I’m not doing that today. Not exactly, anyway.
Yesterday’s WordPress one-word prompt was the word “tailor.” I wrote a post that referenced spy novels, including one by John le Carré, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. I am neither currently reading that book nor is it close to me at the moment.
But after I’d published my post for the “tailor” prompt yesterday, I recalled a long-suppressed memory of the last time I’d gone to a tailor, something I don’t do very often. I’m an off-the-rack kind of a guy.
Anyway, I remembered one very mortifying experience visiting a tailor. It was many years ago. I mean MANY years ago. Here’s the story of that experience.
My sister was getting married in a far away city and I was an usher. Her fiancé made an appointment with a local tailor for his ushers (and his father) to get fitted for our wedding party tuxes. Five of us piled into a car and headed to the tailor.
Upon our arrival, the tailor herded all of us into a large, communal fitting room so that he could get our measurements for the tuxes. He then instructed us all to remove our shirts and trousers.
So what’s the big deal you ask? Well, back then I was a bit of a hippie. Long hair, beard, tie-dyed t-shirts, and bell-bottomed jeans.
I also went commando. Just in case you don’t know what that means, going commando involves not wearing underpants beneath your pants. For men, it’s sometimes referred to as “free-balling.”
The day we had the appointment with the tailor, I had on my bell-bottomed jeans and I was, as usual, not wearing underpants. I guess I wasn’t thinking about where we were going or what we would be doing.
So there I was with four other guys in the open fitting room and I wasn’t wearing underpants. I dropped trou, just like the other four. Fortunately, my tie-dyed t-shirt was extra long and I pulled it down as far as I could in order to better conceal my goodies.
I thought I was going to get away with being without underpants until the tailor knelt down in front of me in order to measure my inseam. Holding his cloth measuring tape in one hand, he pulled up my t-shirt with the other.
Uh oh!
Kneeling, my junk directly in front of his face at eye-level, the tailor seemed totally unfazed. He looked up at me with a blank expression on his face, as if this was a common occurrence, and politely asked, “Will you be wearing underpants at the wedding?”
That was the day I stopped going commando.
This, That, and the Other 
Once a Commando, Always a commando. Even the 10 year old is commando..
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“Will you be wearing underpants at the wedding?”
I like this guy.
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Very cool tailor, indeed.
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Haha! What’s a great story. I bet you’ll never live that one down!
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That’s for sure. To this day I can’t look my sister’s father-in-law in the eyes.
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Omg. I bet!
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This is hysterical. I never heard the expression going commando. I admire the tailor for remaining calm. Maybe he had seen everything and more than once. Funny story.
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Thanks. Yes, the tailor was remarkably poised. I was not!
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a hippie. – OMGawd. I don’t believe. Were you at Wood Stock? And commando…I remember this word…where on earth did it originate. Because it was big in the 80’s if you said “go commando” everyone knew what it meant. I remember when I first heard it, I thought it meant going all Army / Marine – kick you ass mode. Until one of the neighborhood boys explained it to me. (OH and then WHY? Where did that meaning come from)
FUNNY FUNNY, I’m surprised you didn’t give him a HEADS up first. (hahaha, gawd)
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Oh how I wish I’d gone to Woodstock. But alas, I didn’t.
As to how “going commando” came to mean what it means, that’s a good question, one I’ll have to research.
As to why? Well, “free-balling.”
And finally, “a heads up”? To quote you, OMGawd!
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hahahah! I’m still a lady, with womanly thoughts.
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I never doubted that!
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Wikipedia says and therefor this has to be true that going commando came from,’Slate magazine’s Daniel Engber dates the modern usage to United States college campuses circa 1974, where it was perhaps associated with soldiers in the Vietnam War, who were reputed to go without underwear to “increase ventilation and reduce moisture”. I am subscribed as one of your followers, but I never get notifications of your posts and I hope that is not because I like to go commando or sleep in the nude.
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Thanks for looking that up. I thought it might have had something to do with an Arnold Schwarzenegger/Sylvester Stallone movie, but Vietnam commandos works too.
I’m not sure why my posts are not showing up in your reader if you’re following my blog. I don’t think WordPress monitors what people wear or do not wear beneath their pants or what they do or don’t sleep in. I thought only the NSA would know that.
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That’s priceless. Gotta give props to the tailor. Too funny.
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Oh yeah, that tailor does, indeed, deserve props. Thanks for reading.
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LOL! That was an awesome story. The tailor’s question – priceless.
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Thanks.
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Oh this is SO funny! I know tailors ask men which side they dress, but in this instance he could probably see! Oh my.
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That was so funny! Now I can see how this has led you to nude skiing. 😀
Goldfinch is always telling me women should go commando – this makes so much more sense now!
It is bringing back memories of my first ever professional bra fitting service… I was mortified with embarrassment at what the woman said to me.
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Okay, I’ll bite. What did the woman say to you?
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I felt violated! I used to by bras off the rack during my teenage years, but as I took on a more womanly shape, Mum sent me down to a special shop to be properly fitted. I think I may have been around 21. I was still a bit on the self-conscious side. I used to get a lot of attention from men about my chest area but at that
She made several remarks that made me really uncomfortable on my fine assets. So I was really freaked out by her.
They “handle” you quite a lot during a bra fit. One of the bras she picked out was too big clearly…and she remarked that it was so big that there was space for her to climb inside it.
I was mortified. I wanted to complain about her being overly personal.
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Yikes. Well, at least you have “fine assets.”
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Oh hold on the comment sent before I finished it…
…where was I up to?
She freaked me out…she kept on bring different bras and when I tried them on, she would tell me how sexy I looked. She even stroked my arm at one point as he was looking at me in the mirror.
I am sure she had a far more hands-on approach than any other bra-fitter I have ever had.
It was a horrid experience and made me very hesitant about going back for a proper bra-fitting again. I did feel kind of violated.
When I told my family and friends, they all laughed, but I was livid!
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You know, I never knew there were professional bra fitters. Had I known that, I would have applied to be an apprentice.
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Wow! Brave of you.
You would have to have a very good poker face…
…or else you would end up with a black eye or a lawsuit for assault!
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Sorry for all the typos…
…it still makes me angry thinking about that experience.
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OMG! 😱
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Exactly!
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Yeah!
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Sadje…at the time, I was angry and it made me very nervous to go back to that shop or anywhere like it.
But since then I have realized, I should have reported her. She was was around 30 years of age. She should have known better – she was so unprofessional.
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You should have, but as it’s too late for that, you should chalk it up to a learning experience. We all go through them. And are more careful in the future.
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BWAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! Those people (tailors, seamstresses) see EVERYTHING and I bet not much fazes them either. This may well top your nude skier ‘story’…. Boy. I’m going to snicker all day now…. heh heh heh…
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I was dangling on your every word. I didn’t know how the ending would swing, but the tailor’s response was a gust of fresh air.
Love your work Fandango.
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Thanks so much. That means a lot.
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