dad's

It's probably best to defer to your tailor's years of experience when he tries to convincing you that tapering your pants in from the standard 9"s is a bad idea. I like to put my fashion life in the hands of tried and true, weathered professionals, especially those who are torch-holders of dying trades.

And it's not that I don't trust them, even though I might not like what I'm hearing.

At Dad's Tailor, I was inches away from letting him keep the extra inches. But then, as I handed the pin stripped trousers over to him, I noticed, rumpled like a wet, ink-spotted poodle in his lap, a pair of mightily stonewashed jeans. We're talking 1986, bowling alley parking lot in the middle of Indiana stonewashing here.

At Dad's, the TV is loud and the program on it is mid-century. Maybe Lucy. It's off the main drag, on a street that's been battered by city workers.

Still I'm apt to let Dad have his way. But I can't help having my reservations.