Friends, I take up my little white laptop to raise a delicate subject, never before addressed in these hallowed interweb pages. That is the topic of my husband's height.
That's right! Shit just got real.
Here's the deal: I am married to possibly the handsomest man I know. Bryan is gorgeous like what would happen if Johnny Depp and Keanu Reeves from 1995 had a baby. He is also 5'6 and weighs 130 lbs in a soaking wet track suit.
So, yeah. My man is petite, which I don't generally notice except when it makes me feel like a Clydesdale. I am 5'8 before I put socks on in the morning, and my ancestors were Scottish peasants who evidently had Stegosaurus bones. When he was my age, my dad looked like Zeus. He threw lightning bolts at us when we were bad. I'm lucky I made it out of that gene pool as femininely petite as I did.
ANYway, Bryan is short. He very rarely talks about his height, and seems genuinely unconcerned with it. However, when you are a smallish man, it is tough to find clothes that fit, and that is why he wears cutoff jean shorts. Every. Single. Day. And they all basically look like this:
So, when we got married, I was all "You are NOT getting married in cutoffs." And Bryan was all "But whyyyyyyyyyy?" And then I put the hammer down and made him go look for a suit with his sister Abby.
Now, to be fair, I had no idea how difficult this would be. I know Bryan hates to shop for anything, including groceries. But I thought he would have more fun with Abby than he would with me, plus I was like "How hard could it be to find a suit? There are like 800 stores in Atlanta--at least one of them has a stylish and flattering suit for my husband to get married in." Well, it turns out I'm wrong sometimes.
I sent them on their way at around 10 AM on a Sunday morning and got a call from Abby around 4 telling me to come over to the Jos. A Banks near Phipp's Plaza because Bryan was about to buy something. So, I went over there. I walked in the door. I looked around and couldn't find Bryan. It turned out it was because he had been swallowed by pile of charcoal herringbone wool.
I will not emasculate my husband with a description of what he looked like in this suit, but I'll just say it was too big for him. Abby was understandably frazzled and Bryan looked like he might have the capability to shoot weapons-grade lasers from his pupils. They had not had a good time. Bryan literally had his credit card out and was handing it to the man at the counter when I stayed his hand. This was a delicate moment in my relationship with Bryan's family because they were all there, were all encouraging him by telling him how dashing he looked. Plus Abby had spent the whole day engaged in a futile search with her grumpy brother. And I was like "Ya'll, he looks like a 9-year-old Bible salesman. We can find something better."
Abby and Bryan refused to ride in the same car with me on the way home. Bryan forgave me that day, but I think it took Abby a couple of weeks.
So, I did a bit of light Googling that evening and found out that while there are over 100,000 Big and Tall men's clothing stores in America, only a handful of stores in the country are dedicated to dressing short men. I found the number for one of them in Beverly Hills, and called it.
A woman who didn't speak super duper good English answered the phone "Jimmy Au's." I just launched into my story like I was calling a suicide hotline. I told the woman about the whole day, that I was frustrated, that my fiancee was short and needed a suit for our wedding, and I couldn't accept the fact that he had to look ridiculous in order to look nice.
"I think you need to talk to Jimmy," the woman said. For a couple of minutes, all I heard was a muffled conversation in Chinese, and the next voice I heard was an older Chinese gentleman who sounded like a chorus of angels.
"Thank God you find me," he said.
Thank God indeed. All he needed to know what Bryan's height and weight.
"Okay Okay, I send you suit." he said.
"Um, are you sure? Do you want me to measure him or anything?"
Jimmy Au laughed. "No, no. I just send you suit and shirt. Tom Cruise come here and buy suit for Oscar. I send you nice Tom Cruise suit."
And you guys, a few days later we got the most exquisite, stylish wool suit in the mail. It fit Bryan perfectly.
In conclusion, today my friend Ben who works in my office came in with a magazine clipping for me. Ben loves Jimmy Au and the and very nearly peed himself with glee when he found THIS ARTICLE in the Fashion Week issue of The New Yorker.