Now it has been said of me that I can wear a $1000 suit and still resemble a grow bag.
And I would be the first to admit that the expression ‘sartorial elegance’ is not one I’ve ever been closely associated with.
However, I do like to look smart, well as smart as I can, and I do wear my share of designer labels. Ralph Lauren, Gant, Country Road, they all rest happily on my shoulders.
Plus I do have a collection of stripey jackets that is the envy of many; even though no one but me would actually wear them.
You can imagine my horror, then, when I realised that being a taxi driver not only meant that I had to wear a uniform but that the uniform had been put together by someone who thought that Gianni Versace was an Italian painter. And a house painter, at that.
This all came home to roost the afternoon I stood in queue to be fitted out for my first foray in to the ‘land of taxi’.
“Can I try on the Armani?” I chirped up cheerfully?”
“Wot” was the succinct reply.
“The Armani? Versace will do if you haven’t got Armani”. I bravely ventured on, determined to get at least a smile.
“Do you want a pair of trousers or not?” was the slightly longer reply.
Well, in actual fact, I didn’t.
“I’ve got a nice pair of Ralph Lauren at home, same colour, same cut, couldn’t I wear them?” I pleaded.
“Have they got a taxi logo on the back pocket?”
“No, but they’re really nice…and they’ve got that little polo player on them somewhere.”
“If they ain’t got a taxi logo on them they’re not regulation and if they’re not regulation you’ll get fined for not wearing them.”
I thought I had finished taxi school but obviously not, the rules and regulations stretched to after school hours, too.
“Oh about 112 cm” I winced.
“That’ll be 122 cm”
“Believe me, 122cm, you’ll be siting down all day, eating and drinking, don’t worry about how you look, you got to be comfortable.”
A waist of 122 cm, eh, have you ever seen a beached whale with a taxi logo on its bum, well, that’s me.
“That’ll be XXXL”.
“Don’t tell me, all that getting in and out of the cab, eating and drinking, I’ve got to be comfortable and not worry what I look like.”
“You’ve got it.”
Have you ever seen a beached whale with a taxi logo on its bum floundering about in a pitched tent? Well, keep your eyes peeled, I’m bound to be in a suburb near you soon.