The other day, I got to thinking about my first suit.

When I think “first suit”, I usually think of the first suit I bought for myself… a medium-grey, single-breasted, 2-piece with notch lapels. I bought the suit at Jos. A Bank around 2012 or so. Given that date, I’m now surprised at how full the trousers are cut (with a nice, high rise) and how moderate-to-wide the lapels are.

It was the suit I’d wear to countless interviews as I was just trying to get my professional feet under me. I’d also wear that suit to countless weddings of friends and family.

I still wear that suit from time to time.

Even though that’s the first suit I bought for myself, it isn’t technically the first suit I ever owned.

That distinction goes to the suit my parents bought for me when I was around 11 years old.

It was, no joke, a grey, glen plaid double-breasted suit!

Talk about gangster! I’d kill for a suit like that now! But I was only 11 and didn’t realize how awesome it was.

Well, actually I did. Or, more accurately, I knew that this new thing was special in some way that I couldn’t quite grasp.

Since I was so young, I didn’t know anything about what color or jacket configuration common suits were, so the specific appearance of the suit doesn’t really matter beyond the fact that it was a surprising choice by my parents. Why not a navy suit? Or a charcoal suit? In a regular single-breasted? Who knows?

Anyway…

When I first put it on, I could tell that this thing was different from all the clothes I had worn before. This wasn’t anything like my t-shirts and sweatpants.

This new thing had lining. And pockets. And padding. And stitching. This took TIME to make. Time and intention and skill.

And the stuff! In order to wear this new thing, I needed a shirt with buttons! And a tie! And real shoes!

When I put the jacket on, I felt like I was putting on a suit of armor. The structure of the jacket made me want to stand up straighter. I remember walking down the hall and feeling the drape of the trouser break against my shoes.

Once I put the suit on, I didn’t want to take it off. I lounged around the house for as long as I could before common sense got the better of me and I hung it back in my closet before I stained it or wrinkled it beyond recognition.

I wasn’t like other kids who hated the thought of getting dressed up. To me, it felt really good.

That suit made me realize that clothing was more than just the disposable junk I was used to.

Surprisingly, though, this first suit experience didn’t translate into me being “into menswear”. Nope, I spent my teenage and early-adult years floundering about sartorially like most guys. It wasn’t until I got back into menswear in my late 20s that I remembered what it felt like putting on my first suit all those years ago.

Why did that suit have such an impact on me? Well, I think my age played a part. At 11, I was naturally starting to feel more self-conscious as I approached adolescence. Something that made me feel strong and handsome was welcomed with open arms. Even at 11, I lamented to myself that I couldn’t wear suits like that all the time, everywhere I went.

It also made me realize that there was a whole clothing language that I didn’t know how to speak! What kind of shirt does someone wear with a suit? How do I tie a tie properly? Wait, my belt needs to match my shoes?

Wearing that suit made me feel like a grown-up, but it also magnified the fact that I was still a kid.

It’s odd the stuff you remember and why you remember it. I wish I still had that suit. I’d give it to my oldest son to wear and he could then pass it to his younger brother when he grew out of it.

Since I can’t do that, maybe I’ll start looking for a grey, check, double-breasted suit for myself. Now, as an adult I CAN actually wear suits wherever I want!