Hoi An is a town of tailors and textiles, where you can get a bespoke suit — or just about any other fashion pictured in the pages of a magazine — made for $20 or less.
I did not plan on buying anything. Bicycle touring discourages accumulation. But then I started to think about how sick I am of the REI-wear I’ve been sporting for the last six weeks. The way the polypro picks up a sour smell that no amount of soap can remove. The way my convertible pants pouch out around the thighs so that I look like I’m smuggling squirrels. The way I’ve been deluding myself that a bike shirt can pass as evening wear if accessorized appropriately.
So it turned out I was in the market for some threads. Just a shirt. Maybe a pair of pants. Unfortunately, I’m overwhelmed by the amount of consumer choice offered by your average Banana Republic. And at least Banana Republic does you the favor of selecting the fabrics and choosing the styles.
“Uh, let’s see. I want a sharp-looking shirt. Clothes make the man, right? Heh, heh. So I want padded shoulders. Yeah, lots of padding. Can you pad the chest too? No? OK, then just the shoulders. And epaulets. Really big honking epaulets with gold braid and tassles.
“The shirt should be open down to the navel. Is it possible to make me look, you know, huskier? Maybe horizontal stripes? Too French? OK, then put a Diesel logo on the front. That’s cool, I think. And on the back, I want a picture of Bruce Lee. No, Sammy Hagar. Bruce Lee fighting Sammy Hagar.
“And please, make sure it’s tasteful.”
The woman helpfully offered me a book of men’s fashion to flip through. Lots of runway models in improbable outfits. She pointed to one particularly outlandish pair of pants. “How about this one?”
I started to explain that while those pants were very nice, and would no doubt look simply smashing on, for example, Brad Pitt, I was thinking of maybe a more traditional —
“I was joking.”
Ah, I see. Dry wit is in short supply outside of the British commonwealth and key pockets of Europe and America. I had stumbled upon a little trove of it in Vietnam.
“How about this?” I asked, pointing to a model in motorcycle jacket and bikini briefs.
“Difficult for me to take measurements,” she replied.
Soon we were in business, having specified colors, cuts, pocket styles, lengths, weights, and stitching. I returned six hours later to pick up an outfit that looks for all the world like custom-tailored Dockers. I couldn’t be more pleased.
