Mr. Miago the Tailor

July 14, 2017: Tailor

“It’s a head spinner alright, but it doesn’t fit you,” Mr. Miago blurted out as he read that morning’s The Local Daily. I was standing on the opposite end of the small room, close by the front entrance and right in front of the three-fold mirror. Measuring tape was hanging from the panel edges, long ones, wide ones and narrow ones. Tape that had sized up strangers, travelers, young children, bachelors and bachelorettes, family, friends, and neighbors. I turned towards Mr. Miago while turning my head to the mirror to check out my side view. Then I spun around to check out my opposite side view. It fit so well! I thought. She would be so impressed, I just knew it. Swept off her feet, I tell you! “But Mr. Miago, it fits like a glove!” Mr. Miago’s head was still buried in his paper. “She definitely won’t say no, this time,” I said. Mr. Miago finally looked up from his morning reading, set the paper down, slowly got up and started walking towards me. “Come, take another look. Your head’s been buried in the Daily all morning, you haven’t even checked me out!”

Mr. Miago stood just a few inches from me and looked right into my eyes as he said, “Kiddo, I know the dimensions, but that doesn’t mean it fits you. I see it in your eyes. She doesn’t care about a dashing sear-sucker suit if the body in it is a sucker! Show her the good man that you really are, and nothing could fit better.”

 

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