On Matters of Fashion

"Gentlemen," Worthington said, gently swirly the snifter of brandy in his hand, "thank you for meeting me here."

"Here" in this case being the local gentlemen's club to which the gathered members belonged. They were in the library, which meant they were surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books. Despite being a library, the books were for show and were rarely (if ever) read. No, the library was simply a place to gather and sit while indulging in tobacco or alcohol with other men of similar means and tastes.

While some men owned businesses or were retired, Worthington was the son of a textile magnate. He was college-educated, but many of those gathered with him saw him as little more than a child allowed to associate with the adults due to the insistence of his father. Still, Archibald Worthington was a respected man, so his son’s invitation was honored—or more likely, humored—albeit begrudgingly.

"There is time for pleasantries later," Dickson said lighting his pipe as he leaned on the mantle above the fireplace. "Get to the point of this gathering."

"Efficient as always, Reginald" Worthington said flatly. He put his drink down on an end table and walked to stand in front of a bookcase on the northern side of the room. "We are here because there is an untapped market that is begging to be exploited." At the word "market," the group groaned quietly.

"If you had told me this was a business matter," Hornsby said from his overstuffed armchair, his jowls trembling as he spoke, "I would have sent my steward, as he is responsible for such things."

"And that is why I concealed the nature of this meeting until now," Worthington replied, a smug grin creeping across his face. "And besides, while this may be about a potential business venture, I feel with certainty that you will want to hear this firsthand."

"Very well," Fitzpatrick said, cleaning his monocle with a silk handkerchief, "get on with it. The sooner you finish your proposal, the sooner we can tell you 'no' and be on our way."

"We shall see," Worthington said, his smug grin still firmly in place. "Now, what is the one item most difficult to purchase at a haberdashery?" Various responses came from the crowd:

     "Genuine ivory tobacco pipes"
     "Mollusk silk handkerchiefs"
     "Peruvian mustache wax"
     "Polar bear fur coats"

"Perhaps I should have phrased my question differently," Worthington said thoughtfully. "What I mean to ask is what is the most embarrassing item to purchase?" Again, various responses were offered:

     "Leather softened by the toothless gumming of Indochinese women"
     "Icelandic necropants"
     "Opium"

Worthington became visibly uncomfortable by some of the items mentioned and tried to quickly regain control of the meeting.

"I am referring to undergarments," he said over the group, who had continued to reply to his earlier question. "Undergarments can be quite embarrassing to purchase, especially when other customers are in the shop with you."

"And what is your plan to solve this?" Dickson asked incredulously. "Underclothes are not meant to be discussed. They are meant to be purchased with subtle glances and hand gestures while the cost is added to the bill under 'accessories' or some such."

"But why is this so?" Worthington asked rhetorically. "It would be one thing if women were present, but the fairer sex cares little for clothes shopping, so the risk of that is nearly nonexistent. And the haberdasher already has intimate knowledge of our various measurements, so any discomfiture cannot be because of him. No, society has taught us to be ashamed of the male form. In ancient Greece, men regularly exercised nude, but today even a trip to the seashore requires extensive covering.

"I say no longer! I say that we embrace our masculinity and establish our own haberdashery dedicated exclusively to undergarments."

There was quite a bit of muttering from those gathered. Worthington, not wanting to lose his momentum, pressed forward.

"I am so confident in the need for a place where men are able to openly purchase the most intimate of apparel, that I will put my name on the business: Worthington's."

"To be clear," Fitzpatrick said, reaching in his waistcoat pocket for his snuff tin, "I think this concept is foolhardy. However, if the most personal of clothing is to be sold at this proposed shop, why not use your Christian name? Or are you hoping that customers will associate the business with your father?"

"And it should sound more mysterious," Hornsby added, playing with the curled end of his mustache. "Imagine if a man were expecting a traditional haberdashery and walks in to find only breeches on display."

"Very well," Worthington said. "Are we in agreement then? We shall establish as the first intimate apparel haberdashery and finally make shopping for undergarments not only a shameless experience, but an enjoyable one! Here’s to Victor’s Secret!"