Time to put on a tux

A long time ago, I swore that when I finally had to wear a tuxedo for an event, I would buy one. After all, it seemed to me, every man should own a tux.

Some years later, I was asked to be a presenter at an awards ceremony at the MGM Grand Garden, during COMDEX, of course. The gala affair--and it really was quite a production--was in honor of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the microprocessor. I gave an award to one of the early important chips.

Yeah, I know, how much geekier could a guy get?

A tux was mandatory dress for male presenters, so, true to my word, I bought one.

I now seek occasions to wear it.

The thing about a tux is that you know you don't look as good in it (or anything, ever) as Cary Grant or Daniel Craig or Sean Connery or any of the many other Hollywood leading men who wore theirs with such style and who looked so good in them that the tux became the defining dress-up symbol for men. The problem is, once you're in a tux, you feel like maybe, just maybe you might have a chance to look like them.

As an entirely too fat, entirely too old guy with a white beard, I know I don't look good--but for no good reason, when it comes to putting on a tux, I keep hoping.

Tonight is the one night of the year I definitely wear a tux: my company's seasonal celebration (aka holiday party aka company party). I doubt I'll post any pictures (or take any), but I will wear a tux and for a few seconds, alone in my bedroom and away from a mirror, I'll wish again I could be as handsome and cool as, say, Cary Grant in Houseboat, and for just a heartbeat, I'll imagine it's possible.