Button and a haircut

I pulled a button off my favorite black sport coat getting on or off some airplane in some city recently and took time at lunch today to get it sewn back on. It also gave me a chance to spend time in my new favorite place in Philly-- the underground mall beneath One Comcast Center and Two Penn Center -- I think it's call the South Suburban Station. It's is a major rail station and support a whole crazy ecosystem of small businesses struggling to lure in the harried traveler in the two seconds they look up from their Blackberries and iPhones.

The place is a maze of open halls, light wells, corridors, escalators and hallway leading off to distant buildings. The ceilings are low and the lighting a yellowy fluorescent cloud. However it is reasonably clean, well patrolled, and a great place to people watch. There are coffee shops, bars, restaurants, sushi, doughnuts, florists, even an Asian vegetable market.

At the end of the longest corridor, in the far back corner is a small Beauty Salon and a Dry Cleaners/Alterations While You Wait/Shoe Repair/Key-Making place operated by a rather stern looking Asian woman. I pass it each day walking from City Hall to One Comcast and have shirts laundered there a couple of times.

While the Stern Woman sewed my button back on ($2 thank very much) I went next door for a hair cut. The woman who cut my hair -- Christine I think -- said she had been cutting hair in that dark basement for 35 years. The shop had been in another location, across the corridor before moving to its current location. She gave me a great haircut and told me in no uncertain terms that her cable bill was too high and that I should shave the goatee off immediately. Properly shorn and well buttoned, I headed back to One Comcast but detoured into a small Italian men's shop.

As a frequent traveler, I must say that my black sport coat is an absolute workhorse, it works with anything, goes perfectly with everything. I wear it once a week at home and more when I travel. It gets stuffed into roll-aboard, packed in overhead bins and occasionally kicked under airline seats. It is an absolutely indispensable item and mine is starting to show a bit of wear.

The shop was crowded with shirts, shoes, jackets and ties, all unmistakably authentic Italian. I glanced at the overstuffed racks of sport coats, most in pretty garish colors and asked the proprietor if he had anything in simple black -- maybe like the coat I was wearing.

He smiled and pulled from the rack the single most spectacular garment I have ever seen. It was contemporary Italian-cut sport coat in soft, muted black with a very subtle fine herringbone pattern. It was woven of fine grade cashmere and felt spectacular to the hand. The lining was black silk with small pearl sized polka dots. It was neat and sophisticated and reeked of quality. It was a 44L and the fit was like a glove -- I could have worn it home.

Except for one thing -- the yellow tag on the sleeve said "4495" -- it took a moment to realize that it does not mean $44.95. I had to read it twice.

I learned that my Comcast would get me half price -- only $2,495. I have to admit I never considered that there were sport coats that cost that much. I mean I have a couple of pretty expensive ones -- nearly $1000. But $5000 is insane. Hell, $2500 is insane. Yet there I stood transfixed by this beautiful thing -- wondering which card I could use.

This is an emotion is usually reserved for cars and watches. However that jacket was a truly spectacular thing. I managed to resist, escape the store, wallet intact, but even now I hear the siren song calling.