The Magic of Harry O Edit Last Item

So I am going to a wedding with my girlfriend that is “black tie”, meaning I have to either buy or rent a tux. I decided to buy one. I was just going to do the Mens Wearhouse generic route until I happened to stumble into “Harry O Menswear” yesterday (on 2nd btw Howard & Mission). This place is fucking unbelievable! (emphasis on the swearing)

Harry O is a tall, goateed man with a sort of manic swagger and high pitched Bronx accent. He is the first menswear salesman I’ve met who uses profanity in every spoken sentence. I went in yesterday and asked if he had tuxedos, “Fuck man do I have tuxedos? Shit, look at this, I got notch collar, I got shawl collars, I even got some pimping shit over here.”

So of course I was instantly sold. I thought it over, and decided to go back today and buy one. He proceeds to take out a couple tuxes and show them to me. “We can go with the shawl collar or the notch collar”, he says as he lays them on the table.

“I was thinking I would just go with the notch.”

“Fuck the shawl collar, who wants that shit?” He yells as he tosses it aside. So we pick a tux and he gets me set up for a fitting. Getting fitted at Harry O’s means trying on the suit and having an espresso (or mineral water, or whatever) while he painstakingly fits you. This was NOTHING like Men’s Wearhouse where they turbo fit you in a jiffy. He spent like almost 45 minutes just adjusting little things and then spying over my shoulder into the mirror until finally he stands up straight, claps his hands together, and proclaims, “FUCK I’m good!”

I asked him about the Italian brand on the suit, and he looks up at me, eyes brightening, and says:

“This shit is pure Dago, man! this is the real Italian shit. Pure Dago.”

So I get back into my normal clothes and head up to the counter to pay. He gives me the 20% discount which is going right now, which helped, because it knocked $100 off the price of the tux. Then he gave me a little discount on the alterations, which he may in fact do for everybody. After I’d paid and was about to leave, he thanked me for coming in, and I told him I really appreciated all the time he spent on the fitting. He responds, as I am leaving:

“Fuck, baby, you know I love you! I’m Harry O!”

 

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