VOL 9342 ISSUE 3  Shopping

Preparing to don his trusty pinstripe blue suit, Alonzo Salad noted the frayed Jos. A. Bank tag at the jacket collar and was caught unaware by a tidal wave of emotions. Unsuccessfully fighting back tears, Salad recalled visiting the men’s clothier during one of its tasteful weekly special sales promotions, buying three executive suits (one dark gray, one solid blue and the aforementioned pinstripe) for the price of one, and receiving at no additional charge two clip-on bow ties, a near-cashmere V-neck sweater, three pairs of flamboyant socks, a set of generic cuff links, and faux gold-embroidered boxers. It had been only two years after the distinguished retailer Men’s Wearhouse purchased the house of Jos. A. Bank—which Salad had fondly shortened in conversations with other gentlemen to “Jo-zay”—and ended the understated incentive-dependent sales strategy. As the teardrops splashed on his scuffed wingtips in dire need of new laces, Salad remembered some of the other luxury items he had purchased in triads reduced to the price of a singleton, such as watches, bottles of bourbon, and fast cars, all of their purveyors undoubtedly following Jo-zay’s classy lead. “Josabankalgia,” “trinesia,” call it what you will, Salad sat down on his wicker chair from Pier One and sobbed as the paternally brusque treatment he had received from the commission-reliant Jos. A. Bank salesman came rushing back to him as if it were yesterday. There was no longer any doubt that the world in which he had thrived was irrecoverably gone.