Not so terribly long ago, I was rummaging through my closet searching for some article of clothing; I just don’t remember exactly what it was I was looking for.
It may have been a favorite tie or a shirt that didn’t come equipped with gravy stains on it or even a pair of pants with the stretchy expandable waistband that serves me so well these days.
As I searched here and there through the racks, I came upon an item I had forgotten I had and obviously had not seen in quite some time.
But there it was — hanging on the Clubman coat hanger just as I’d left it some years prior. Still looked good, I thought ... the article of clothing, that is, not me. I turned the pockets inside out to see if I’d squirreled away any money but found only half a stick of gum and some tissues.
But, hey, I thought, I think I’ll try it on. I slipped it off the rack and onto my torso and then remembered why it was living in the back of the closet. It was something I wore when I wore a younger man’s clothes.
But it was still a good looking blazer and the label inside told me why: “Arthurs’ Men’s Shop, Pittsboro, NC.”
I never really got over William Ray closing his shop. After all, he had practically raised me through the world of fashion. After Mama stopped making me go to the bargain basement in Belk in downtown Raleigh to try on jeans and let me slide into teenager years, I became a frequent customer of William Ray’s shop on Pittsboro’s Main Street, a habit that endured through the years as long as I was in town and he was in business.
In addition to the high quality, William Ray offered several other benefits. Along with quality was, I thought, good prices. Actually, he ruined me as a shopper today because I still think shirts should be about $5 and pants around $10. I just can’t find them anywhere these days.
The shop also provided other niceties — like the formals we rented in high school for the Junior-Senior Banquet. Today I think the equivalent of that event is something called “the prom” and is an occasion for young ladies to spend a gazillion dollars on an outfit they may wear at the dance for an hour until they leave to go who knows where.
Arthurs’ Men’s Shop was also the place to go when I rented a monkey suit for Shirley’s wedding a few years ago. It was the first time I ever saw those little fasteners with black heads that you used instead of buttons to button your fancy shirt.
William Ray was on the cutting edge of fashion for a small town. I still remember the time I was in the store and he told me of this new fashion product I should try on because it was so lightweight you wouldn’t think you were wearing pants. It was there I slipped on my first pair of polyester pants and they felt so good I bought several then and there. Later I moved along in the world of high fashion as I purchased my beautiful light blue leisure suit (complete with a matching dark blue shirt with huge collars) from William Ray.
Now as I think of those days I realize that while all those features and more were part of the place, it was really the people I went in to see. At the back of the store was an elevated platform the width of the store. It was only six to eight inches higher than the rest of the store but it had several stuffed chairs and a couch or two just right for sitting and wasting ... er, I mean enjoying, a visit with William or his good wife Gladys or Wade Lemons, a sharp-dressed man in his own right. Many times I was in the store not for a purchase but to visit with those good folks and whoever else happened to be there.
I remember when they laid William Ray to rest at the Methodist Church in Pittsboro several years ago. I would see him around town from time to time, occasionally bumping into him at one of the local eateries, often with one or both of his lovely daughters with him. He always asked about my two brothers since they, too, had dropped a dollar or two with him from time to time in their efforts at looking good.
On the day family and friends said “goodbye” to a good fellow, I wasn’t there. Had planned to be; can’t remember what it was that came up that prevented me from going to the service.
I think I may try another fitting of that sport coat as a token of thanks and respect for William.
Couldn’t hurt.
