I suspect there are a lot more stories and emotions for women around this store or that one visited while growing up with sister or mom or friend. Clothes magically appeared in my life. I hardly remember buying them at all until I was maybe in my 30's. Definitely not a clothes horse. Clothes and cars have always been disposable tools for me. I was not and never will be cool.
But one day an event occurred that I'm pretty sure was a seminal one for my father, a passage day. He took me to Brooks Brothers in NYC to get fitted for a gray three piece suit. I think I must have been 15 and home on holiday from prep school. In retrospect it was something out of a movie. It did not mean much to me but I know to him having the money to buy me a suit without looking at the price tag and having his son be tailored in a three piece at Brooks Brothers meant a lot. Unfortunately that is as close as I got in his lifetime to being part of his culture. It was all downhill from there. This was 1968 and I was becoming more of a fan of Abby Hoffman and Eldridge Cleaver than the Brooks Brothers.
So I saw the beginning of the end of Brooks Brothers through two inner eyes today.
The first was what most of the world sees "who cares.. it is time."
The second one was the passing remembrance of that day upstairs with the gray haired Jewish tailor, pins in his mouth, tucking and placing the suit just right while my father hung in the background soaking it in, a smile on his face seeing his son on the cusp of adulthood. A piece of life under glass. I looked good in the suit.
So it goes.