Delayed satisfaction.

Savoring every detail.

Wool has an aroma. I learned that when I ordered my first custom suit.

The whole shop smelled of it, the old menswear store in an old southern city, where I, timid and nervous, set up an appointment to be measured. It had taken me eighteen months to save up for it. Up to that point, my professional wardrobe came from the clearance rack of Brooks Brothers. This was the first time I was going to be measured for a garment tailored just for me.

To the tailor and the shop owner, this was just a routine transaction. To me, though, it felt orgasmic, and it took every ounce of my self control to stay calm as the tailor passed the tape around my shoulders, around my chest, around my thigh, tantalizingly close. The whole process took about eight weeks, the anticipation of finally trying it on, having to hide my arousal yet again, having to delay the satisfaction of seeing the finished product, the glossy lining slipping over my shoulders, and yes the aroma, too. Fine wool smells different.

That first suit was 13 years ago. The one I wear in this picture, three piece in a light gray, is now my fourth custom suit. It has taken me a long time to save up for each one. Such a rush is the experience, and well worth it. The gradual building blocks to dressing as I please.

As the world grows more casual, I see great opportunity in the way I dress. No dress codes means no limitations. No dress codes means exploring my fetish in plain sight, without having to explain myself. To the naked eye, it all just looks like a fancy outfit. But to those who know—