A Monday Silk Tie For My Tailor

This is a true story: A little clutter creates secure, ambience in humble dwelling, a break away from the organised, categorised, scheduled, habitual, guided, directed, planned, diarised, timetable, must do, to do listed and otherwise mundane patterns of life, shopping, cooking, cleaning, bent on just surviving.





A temporary escape from the harshness’s of reality, beyond a brutal world outside the door, the violent actions against mankind, the poor and poorer, greed; averting just a day or so. The mundane side of life is put on low to simmer, a time to create, a late afternoon walk through the pines in the park commanding special views across the dusking cityscape.





But like detour during road works it gets rougher, so a return to the familiar is wished upon, back to the life sustaining activities as soon as Monday comes, again its day break that cracks like thunder. The easterly blows hot and dry across the sand, choking fumes, overflowing busses, sidewalks melting under foot. When only death lies ahead for certain, truth of it darkens my vision, hampers my resolve, but Friday night is light at the end of a long dark tunnel.





And on the "Monday bus", I want to avert my attention, but am fascinated by the cruelty of life bestowed upon a crippled child, so I look into its face and smile, not of sorrow, but of compassion and the child acknowledges with a pain full smile in return, there is hope for the decrepit. I feel like crying, the sad sights plague my mind all day long. The injustices of life show no discrimination, no exemption of age gender or creed, the laws of Karma are truly universal, I ponder as the bus draws one stop closer.





I swipe my card at the security desk and take the lift to level four. I’m at work and the events of an early morning already built a foundation for the day.





Kick starting another anxious week. But for me one Monday, a very good day, a chance visit to my tailor invested in me an opportunity. I am the fortunate son. No inclement weather elements, fumigated sky, no wish-full thinking, no man, angel or demon can obstruct the course of fete, not for me that day.





I invested in the act of charity, good will, the virtue of generosity and without conscious intent was rewarded the same day. Instant Karma, a gift from the gods, a guardian angel. Sweet lips whispered over my shoulder look over, look over. I visited Elais my tailor to request alterations and to offer as a gift one of my designer ties very much liked by him. This brought an immediate smile to his chubby face and many warm thanks from his wife Stella.





It just so happened the same day Mr Reardon champion of the new Bespoke movement in Perth also visited the same tailor with similar requests, and, noticing the tie which was still draped on the counter enquired of its designer and maker, thus an introduction to new business evolved from a good action. Stella advised me of the event, obliged with Mr Reardons contact details and even suggested a meeting time of 4pm the same day and a place to meet; London Court Arcade.





I met Mr Reardon briefly as he was rushing from one event to another in between customers, telephone calls and scrolling down his lap top. Another meeting was scheduled to present the full range of ties and cufflinks from my English designer range. Before this an agreement was struck and the opportunity was handed to me on plate two new outlets for my brand.





Finally, at the end of a long hot day I am greeted with friendly smiles from an unknown bus driver, which withers away discontentment. Upon reflecting as I do most everyday, the sorrowful eyes of the crippled child, the fumigated sky, melting sidewalks, the sad refrains of all walks of life, the desperate calls from lost and lonely soles are suddenly cooled and blown away by the evening sea breeze (the truth remains constant), leaving with me a sense of satisfaction derived from the act of generosity and a new business opportunity for Patrick McMurray silk ties and cufflinks.





Now for the evening I’m back to a little clutter, a little chaos in response to organised.





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