Jonny McCambridge: My bid to sharpen my dress sense brings me to the gentleman’s outfitter...it doesn’t go well

When this happens, I often receive caustic messages from friends. Last week one observed that I looked like Wurzel Gummidge after a hard night of partying.

Another put it even more succinctly. “Saw you on telly – you looked terrible!”

Even with my professed lack of vanity, I was a little stung by some of the observations. I knew my hair and beard were desperately in need of being trimmed and the relentlessness of the working schedule meant I had given virtually no thought to my wardrobe choices.

This week I have an engagement in London. I determined that I would do better. A visit to the local barber tamed my wild locks and whiskers. I went further, taking the almost unknown step of giving some advance thought to what I might wear.

The event I am attending is indoors. I judged that it required smart, but not overly formal attire. I recovered a decent looking shirt and smart pair of trousers from the darkest corners of my wardrobe and made sure they were cleaned and ironed. A thought entered my head that it might be suitable to further burnish my chosen outfit with the addition of a waistcoat. I owned no waistcoats but was rather taken with the idea, fancying that owning such a garment would turn me into quite the dandy.

So, I went shopping. However, the task turned out to be tougher than I had imagined. I seldom shop for clothes, and when I do, I visit discount retailers. I found that such shops tend not to sell a wide array of smart waistcoats.

It was clear I would need to give the matter deeper thought. I Googled ‘Shops near me which sell waistcoats’ and the names of a few outlets filled the screen of my mobile. The first retailer on the list advertised itself as a ‘gentleman’s outfitter’. I’ve always viewed myself as a gentleman. This seemed to be the place. I headed in that direction.

I knew I had made a terrible mistake from the moment I entered the shop. It was too quiet and there seemed to be no air in the room. While there were no other customers, there seemed to be no shortage of staff and several immediately circled me like prey. They were all impeccably dressed and groomed. One quickly moved in.

“Can I help you sir?”

“Uh…well…I was looking for a waistcoat.”

“And what size would that be sir?”

This immediately confused me.

“Well, for my size.”

“And what colour were you thinking of sir?”

“Um, I don’t know really...any colour I suppose.”

I saw the slightest hint of an eyebrow rising.

“Of course, sir. Why don’t I just bring you a selection?”

The sales assistant left me. I was filled with a desperate urge to flee the airless room. However, one of his colleagues had taken up position just behind me and another was patrolling the door. I was trapped.

The assistant returned carrying an armful of waistcoats which he laid on a table. He began to describe them. I examined one and found the price tag. It was £85. I looked at a second. It was £125. After that it is difficult to say because everything seemed to go blurry.

The logical thing to have done would have been to have pointed out that I had been intending to spend a little bit less. I certainly didn’t want to own a waistcoat which was worth more than my car. However, I feared that he would then ask me how much I had intended spending, and I dreaded the humiliation of having to admit no more than a fiver.

The assistant continued talking. “And this one is very popular sir, it can go with various colours of suits. And we do it in all the sizes sir.”

I knew I had to make some gesture of response. I ran my hand along the fine material. “Mmmm, very nice.”

“Why don’t I get you some more to have a look at sir?”

He left me again although his colleagues continued to patrol the perimeter. He returned quickly carrying a second armful of waistcoats.

“Now, some of these are a little more expensive sir, but I’m sure you’ll appreciate the quality.”

I went through the motions of pretending to examine the new batch.

“Mmmm, very nice.”

“And remember sir, we do them in all the sizes.”

I started to think of possible exit plans. In my muddled state, four possibilities presented themselves.

1, I could conclude the encounter by purchasing every waistcoat in the shop in every size at a potential cost running into tens of thousands of pounds.

2, I could simply make a run for it and hope that the assistant at the door did not try to rugby tackle me as I fled.

3, I could text my wife and ask her to come and rescue me.

4, I could pretend to faint.

The assistant left me again and returned with a third armful of waistcoats which he laid down before continuing his lectures on colour and style. He invited me to touch the fabric. I did so. “Mmmm, very nice.”

By now I had visions of being stuck in a Sysyphean loop for the rest of time with the assistant going back and forth, adding to a mountain of waistcoats while I repeated “Mmmm, very nice” endlessly.

I had to bring the torture to an end. “You know, I think I’ll just leave it today.’

I did not wait for a response. I put my head down and made for the door.