The Great Tuxedo Chase: A Hollywood Tail(ored) Tale
It all began, as so many bright ideas do, with a simple walk. Our team, the National Trending Team from USA TODAY, found ourselves summoned to Nashville a year ago. The purpose? To test an innovative concept: gather a group of journalists in a single room for two uninterrupted days. It was an experiment in synergy, a crucible for news.
On our first evening in Music City, we, the team usually responsible for holding down the fort during the late hours, decided to sample the local culinary scene. We opted for one of the restaurants in the city’s food hall, a prerequisite, it seems, for any municipality aspiring to cosmopolitan status. "It’s roughly a one-mile walk," texted the night’s organizer, blissfully unaware that a trek across rivers and through dense woods might have proven less fraught with peril than the journey from The Tennessean’s offices to the Assembly Food Hall.
Somewhere along West End Avenue, Anthony Robledo, our resident entertainment aficionado, casually dropped a bombshell: he would be attending the Oscars for the very first time. His nonchalance was, frankly, insulting, considering the magnitude of the event. Amidst the flurry of congratulations, a question arose, fueled by years spent slinging suits at a Brooks Brothers in Phoenix and a lifetime dedicated to the religion of #menswear: "Do you have a tux?"
That single question ignited a two-week sprint, a desperate scramble to properly outfit our Guy Friday for Hollywood’s most glamorous night. The task was daunting. Purchasing clothes, especially impeccably tailored clothing, under the pressure of an immediate need is hardly ideal. The specificity of the garment – a tuxedo, no less – coupled with the severely limited timeframe, amplified the challenge exponentially.
When dealing with a garment as iconic and tradition-bound as a tuxedo, one must navigate a delicate balancing act. Ease of purchase must be weighed against the cost and, crucially, the time required to achieve the correct fit through alterations. To further complicate matters, an additional constraint was imposed, born from both editorial suggestion and the cold, hard reality of budgetary limitations: acquire the clothes as inexpensively as possible.
With the swift, convenient option of ordering from menswear value champion Spier and Mackay immediately ruled out, we knew we would need the benevolent blessing of the notoriously capricious thrift gods. Before embarking on our quest, however, we needed concrete data. Anthony provided the essential measurements – chest circumference just below the crook of the arm and an honest assessment of his waistline. Armed with this crucial intel, the hunt for a 38 short tuxedo commenced.
This is the point in a typical movie narrative where a montage would unfold, depicting a frantic search, a whirlwind of trying on ill-fitting tuxedos in dimly lit thrift stores, accompanied by upbeat music. However, the insatiable appetite of the news machine demanded constant feeding; organizing an in-person hunt was simply not feasible.
Instead, we turned to the digital realm. Efforts were concentrated on eBay, employing Boolean searches, a more sophisticated method of sifting through the virtual flea market. Alas, none of the available options could reach Southern California in time for the Oscars. Trawling through Etsy yielded a single option that was deemed…adequate, but it failed to ignite any spark of sartorial joy.
With the internet proving uncooperative, it was time to resort to something almost unthinkable in the modern age: picking up the telephone and actually talking to people. While Crowley Vintage, the legendary vintage Mecca in New York City, regrettably had no suitable options, Richards Fabulous Finds in Chicago held the key to our sartorial salvation.
Photos sent by the eponymous owner, Richard himself, revealed that he had drastically undersold the garment. It was a double-breasted tuxedo, complete with elegant grosgrain facings, a piece that would have been perfectly at home during Hollywood’s Golden Age. Anthony, taking a leap of faith, promptly paid the $295, plus taxes and shipping. Richard, understanding the urgency, handed it over to FedEx with all possible haste, ensuring its swift passage to Anthony in Orange County, hopefully arriving with a couple of days to spare.
It would get there in time, right? The anxiety was palpable.
With the centerpiece of the outfit en route, I shifted my focus to minimizing potential worries regarding the other essential elements. Black tie, the formal dress code under which tuxedos fall, mandates tuxedo shirts with French cuffs, designed to accommodate studs, and either a pleated or pique bib. SuitSupply offered (and still offers) a well-regarded version of a tuxedo shirt, complete with included studs, effectively tackling two crucial items in a single $140 purchase.
Did Anthony initially provide me with the incorrect neck size when I first went to collect the shirt for him at the Century City location? Yes, unequivocally, yes, he did. However, this situation underscored the enduring value of physical retail stores. When we eventually met to coordinate the outfit, exchanging the incorrect size for the correct one was a remarkably simple and painless process.
Given that we were uncertain if this would be a one-off occasion, I presented Anthony with a curated selection of shoe options from eBay, guaranteeing delivery before the awards ceremony and also offering versatility for his day-to-day wardrobe. Naturally, he gravitated toward the most casual option – a pair of Peal and Co. black cap-toe oxfords, sold under the esteemed banner of my former employer, Brooks Brothers. They would suffice, I reasoned.
The Thursday preceding the ceremony brought unwelcome news. Anthony received an update informing him that the tuxedo, which was originally scheduled for delivery that afternoon, had been delayed until the following day.
Nothing to worry about, right? The knot of anxiety in my stomach tightened.
That Friday, I diligently collected the remaining outstanding accoutrements from the venerable Beverly Hills haberdasher, Carrol Custom: a luxurious grosgrain bow tie (self-tie, because pre-tied bow ties are strictly for children), elegant formal braces, and a pair of classic black over-the-calf socks.
While the new generation stemming from the foundational Carrol and Co. might not be a household name, in my considered opinion, there is no greater repository of institutional clothing knowledge – with only a select few even approaching it – in the sprawling metropolis that is the City of Angels.
Was this a splurge? Undeniably. The bill nearly equaled the cost of the tuxedo itself. However, the peace of mind knowing that the only outstanding pieces were the shoes and the tuxedo was worth the premium.
As I navigated the chaotic traffic of Rodeo Drive, I received an unexpected alert: the shoes had arrived ahead of schedule, while the tuxedo remained stubbornly absent, languishing on a delivery truck lost somewhere in the logistical abyss. We had long since passed the point where alterations were even remotely possible. Whether it arrived that night or on Saturday made little practical difference.
FedEx delivers on Saturdays, right? A desperate hope flickered.
I was unceremoniously roused from a deep sleep on Saturday morning, mere hours before the Oscars ceremony, by a frantic call from Anthony. The tuxedo was delayed, once again, until Monday. Apparently, the specific warehouse where it had landed did not operate on Saturdays.
After some ahem terse phone calls with FedEx, which yielded absolutely no tangible results, Anthony and I faced the stark reality: we had less than 24 hours to devise an alternative plan.
Fortunately, the Academy’s dress code for media personnel specifies "formal attire or a dark elegant suit." Anthony, thankfully, already owned a black suit lurking in his closet.
It would have to do. It would get him through, so long as he avoided committing the ultimate sartorial sin of attempting to masquerade it as a tuxedo. The meticulously selected shirt and most of the carefully chosen accessories would have to be shelved, casualties of circumstance. At least the shoes would still be usable.
I loaned him a black knit tie and a crisp white linen pocket square, and, surprisingly, he didn’t look half bad. He looked…presentable.
That Sunday, Anthony was ensconced in the grandeur of the Academy Awards, while his precious tuxedo remained trapped in a drafty FedEx warehouse, yearning for its destiny under the dazzling lights of Hollywood.
Anthony finally received the tuxedo the following Monday. I may have uttered a few choice curses, directed specifically at a certain delivery company, once I received confirmation of its long-awaited arrival.
Considering that we had purchased it sight unseen, the fit was remarkably good, better than anyone could have reasonably hoped for. A few minor nips and tucks were required, according to Anthony, but nothing insurmountable.
The tuxedo did, finally, make its red carpet debut in January at the Golden Globes, a grand entrance delayed by fate and circumstance. And it will be there at the Oscars, one year fashionably late, a testament to perseverance, resourcefulness, and the unwavering pursuit of sartorial perfection. A Hollywood ending, indeed.
