I was getting ready to change and drive to my evening concert and happened to look at the forecast. It was supposed to get chilly--down below 60 once the sun set, and this concert wasn't going to start until after 8:30.
I could wear my white jacket!
White jackets as a staple of summer orchestra programs have been slowly disappearing since my career began. They can look wonderfully dressy when clean and fitted correctly, but most programs, even evening programs, are not performed in weather that is appropriate for wearing long sleeves. I had a cheap (polyester of some sort) white jacket for the early years of my career that I was constantly sweating through and didn't particularly enjoy wearing. It was several sizes too large and probably looked okay from a distance but was embarrassingly cheap and ill-fitting up close. (Not to mention slightly stinky.)
Several years ago, despite the fact that most of the groups that I work with were slowly phasing out the white jackets, I bought a real one. Not only a jacket that fit me correctly, but high-end slim fit proper dinner jacket in ivory (real dinner jackets are never pure white) made from expensive Italian wool with a satin shawl collar. It was a piece of real high fashion from a store that I usually wouldn't be able to afford, but happened to discover being sold used despite being practically new.
It was magic when I put that jacket on. It fit me perfectly, and I looked like James Bond about to roll into a casino.
But I usually don't get to wear it, because we're always playing summer concerts in the sweltering heat, and the group that I play most with over the summer has almost entirely phased tux jackets out.
Tonight, however, I was playing locally and the weather was cool...I could wear the nicest piece in my wardrobe. I pulled on dress pants, my black leather dress boots, and a clean white dress shirt. I was looking forward to coming down the stairs in much more dazzlingly formal attire than usual.
I tried to imagine my reaction to J's reaction.
"Yes, I do look like James Bond. But James Bond can't even begin to play the trumpet, of course..."
"I WOULD like to go out with you soon...want to wear that your lowest cut dress if I wear this dinner jacket?"
"No, I don't have time for THAT right now, but if you stay up I won't be back too late after my concert..."
I finished tying my shoes and came down the stairs to show off.
What she actually said was:
"Oh, your white jacket...were you eating in ketchup in it?"
"What do you mean?"
"That stain...what is it? Is it coffee, maybe?"
"What stain? Where?"
"Bottom right corner. Oh, Roy...it's all over the arm too. What did you do in that thing?"
"I didn't do anything! I haven't worn it since I got it back from the dry cleaners after last summer!"
"You did something. Oh, honey, it's all down the side too. You can't go onstage in that, you know."
"What IS this?"
"Maybe the cleaners can get some of it out..."
I really didn't eat something with ketchup or drink coffee in my nicest white dinner jacket. I have no idea how it got massive brown stains all over it. Maybe something leaked in the closet, or I stored something extra dirty next to it? But anyway, I didn't exactly preen onto the stage in my very fine looking James Bond tux jacket. I did, however, put it on after the sun went down. Because I was the only one who thought to bring a jacket, and was therefore the only one who didn't get cold.
So there.
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