The Stetson man, my married older lover, and I had not been dating too long when the new car I had just leased was broadsided at an intersection. A woman had tried racing through a yellow light and had hit the passenger side of my car. Luckily, I was unhurt; however, I was very upset that my new car was damaged. And then getting the news from the repair people about how it would take at least six weeks to just receive the repair parts made me feel worse. I relayed this information to the Stetson man, and he immediately suggested a trip to get my mind off the accident. He told me to pack a bag because we would be leaving that afternoon for a weekend getaway.
We ended up in my favorite city: Las Vegas. The Stetson man was only available to spend Saturday and Sunday with me, but in that time it was his desire to spoil me rotten, something to which I was growing accustomed. First thing Saturday morning, he took me to the Escada store, where he perused every rack and display shelf, picking out items for me to try on. Once he had me in the dressing room with all my many items, he placed a chair near the three-angle mirror. He then sat in this chair and smiled as I tried on nearly every article of clothing in the store. He never glanced at his watch, or asked me to hurry, or seemed to wish to be anywhere but right where he was, watching me. My ex-husbands, or the men I had dated close to my age, would be more concerned with finding a television to check a score or watch a game, but not the Stetson man. I believe he would have been perfectly content to sit in that chair as long as I was occupied with trying on clothing.
Everything in the Escada store is very expensive, but the Stetson man had chosen several jacket and pant combinations, as well as several blouses. As I tried things on, he would ask if I liked them. If it was an item that had my approval, he would lay it near the chair. Eventually, I had tried on every item in that dressing room. Some had not fit well, and so he called in the on-staff seamstress to pin them for tailoring. It was Saturday, and so I wasn’t sure how this would work. Would they ship them to me after they were tailored? Surely the Escada seamstress was not going to be hemming pants for me in such a short amount of time on a Saturday. And yet, the Stetson man instructed the staff to have the work completed by five o’clock that afternoon, when we would be back to pick up the items. His intention was for me to wear the suit to dinner that evening.
This service was not something I was used to, and it made me feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. The bill was well over $5,000, which may have been what pleased the Escada store enough to justify having the tailoring completed in that short period of time on a weekend. Whatever the reason for the prompt service, I was very happy and my mind was far away from the damaged vehicle I had back home. I enjoy being treated like royalty from my older man.