How To Wear a Tux (and not let it wear you!)

When I was 16 my dad sat me down for a talk. Nobody was mad at anybody, but there were certain truths we had to face. I was a regular Usher at Ohio's Junior Miss, which my town hosted. I had been invited to prom once again by a senior girl (most likely because of my status as a fantastic dancer and charming date). And he could tell: it was quite possible I liked getting dressed up even more than my sisters did. Finally, he said flat out: "I think it's time we acknowledge it...you need to own a tuxedo."

That might be rule one. Own, don't rent, your tux. Even if it's the first time you've had to wear one and you cannot possibly imagine another instance where it will be necessary. There's a certain magic quality that shiny black suit garners as it hangs in a bag in your closet...suddenly, more events start piling into your date-book. You're in demand! But it's all how you wear it. Like I said, I LOVE getting dressed up, and it's 100% because of my father. Most sons live to see their dads reveling in some age-old sporting tradition or in action at work. But my most vivid memories are those of watching him head out to his yearly obligation as announcer for Ohio's Junior Miss, a state scholarship program for girls. Most of his job was done backstage, but he pulled out his tux nonetheless.

One year, in a stunning coordination of the fates, the scheduled host (a news lady from Chicago) got snowed in at the airport. A mere hour before the performance, my dad perused the script, tux pressed and gleaming, and carried the three and a half hour program. Sure he was a skilled speaker, but there was something about that suit that brought out even more in him. It exuded a power over his walk, without constraining him. He was endowed with new confidence. He calmly crossed the stage to take the mic. His cummerbund wrapped his slightly protruding belly gracefully, allowing him a distinction I had never seen on my friends', slightly younger, fathers. I was in awe.

I may never embody the same elegance my dad did, as he interviewed, explained, and joked with the audience, killing time so the judges could score. But I remember every detail of his presence. Always let the white of the sleeves show, just so, at the wrists. Be prepared to constantly be adjusting: each seat you take means another trip to the bathroom to discreetly re-tuck in your shirt. Don't take off the jacket, no matter how hot you get. Even as my dad announced from the wings I could tell he was fully suited, he sounded it. If you must rent (particularly before you've reached full height and weight), try to have your own black shoe, slightly less shiny than the rented one, to wear. You'll be more comfortable and higher-quality dancing will ensue. Do not whine - it's a pleasure to have the chance to dress up for the night. No matter what, you're not suffering nearly as much as the ladies. Put it on early. Put on some music, whether it be the Rat Pack or the James Bond theme, for the occasion. Enjoy the details of the cuff-links (which should be unique but not garish) as you sit and prepare for the evening. You're most likely getting ready for a special event. Think about the people you will see and the hands you'll shake. Everyone is a man when wearing a tux, even if you're 8.

But the most difficult rule of tux-wearing is knowing when not to wear it. It's easy to get addicted to the feeling, wishing to pull it out for everything from Christmas Mass to family dinners. Unfortunately, it's been 3 years since I've worn either of my tuxes (yes I have two). College is one of those stages where dressing up seems to go out of style and it's been years since serving as a Groomsman for my brother, ushering at Junior Miss, or emceeing my Senior Variety Show. But a good tux stays in style, so I'm hopeful for more nights like those where I watched my dad graze across the stage with finesse. We weren't in his toolshed, playing catch, or working on science homework, but in those milliseconds on stage, spotlight gleaming across his face, I learned more about how to be a man than any magazine, movie or other lesson might teach me. So go try on a tux. You might surprise yourself! And you never know who's watching.