Hi. You see the picture of the suit in that last entry? I was wearing the suit jacket with a pair of jeans, because it was a brand new suit. A brand new suit with raw pantcuffs that required tailoring. A new suit. A grown-up suit. A gorgeous pinstriped Gemelli Milano Italian wool suit that anybody would be fucking proud to own, especially someone for whom this was their first fucking grown up suit.
So I took it in to be tailored. I put it on a hanger, covered it with a trash bag, and carried it with me to work. After work, I took it to the tailor, and went into the little room to put it on.
Except there were no pants.
Let me be clear.
The pants were gone.
The pants
of my brand new fucking gorgeous suit
had fallen off of the hanger
somewhere between my house and work or work and the tailor.
They're fucking gone. So now I have a nice jacket. I don't have a fucking suit. I have a jacket.
I am so heartbroken, I can't even tell you. I was so proud that I was really about to own my very first tailored suit that I bought specially for me that was going to be perfect and awesome with a secret hidden crimson silk lining.
I'm going to call the MTA lost and found tomorrow, and I'm going to put up signs by my house, and I'm going to post something on Craigslist, and I'm going to go into all of the shops between the subway and my office, but I don't have a lot of hope. And you know things are dire when *I* stop being optimistic.
I just feel heartsick. I feel stupid and I feel sick to my stomach and I feel really, really fucking stupid.