This post is part of the 21 Days to a Manlier Green series
I love wearing a suit. Putting on a suit almost makes me feel like a super hero. It makes me feel like a better version of myself. I stand up straighter and walk with more confidence.
Every man should own at least one suit, tailor fit to his body (How to Buy a Second-Hand Suit and Make It Look Like $1,000).
If you have a suit, you need a reason to wear it. The best reason? “Just because.”
You’re a man. Make your own reason. Call up some friends and tell them you all are suiting up and going out for drinks. Arrange a classy date night with your significant other. Hell, just put on a suit and head to the grocery store, then watch how people react differently to you, how differently you feel.
Men, suit up.
The following excerpts from The Law of Success in Sixteen Lessons by Napoleon Hill, should do well to further persuade you to suit up:
It may be true, as a well known poet has said, that “clothes do not make the man,” but no one can deny the fact that good clothes go a very long way toward giving him a. favorable start.
A man’s bank will generally loan him all the money he wants when he does not need it-when he is prosperous, but never go to your bank for a loan with a shabby-looking suit on your back and a look of poverty in your eyes, for if you do you’ll get the gate.
Success attracts success! There is no escape from this great universal law; therefore, if you wish to attract success make sure that you look the part of success, whether your calling is that of day laborer or merchant prince. For the benefit of the more “dignified” students of this philosophy who may object to resorting to “stunt” stimuli or “trick clothing” as a means of achieving success, it may be profitably explained that practically every successful man on earth has discovered some form of stimulus through which he can and does drive himself on to greater effort.
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My wardrobe consisted of three well-worn business suits and two uniforms which I no longer needed.
Knowing all too well that the world forms its first and most lasting impressions of a man by the clothes he wears, I lost no time in visiting my tailor.
Happily, my tailor had known me for many years, therefore he did not judge me entirely by the clothes I wore. If he had I would have been “sunk. ”
With less than a dollar in change in my pocket, I picked out the cloth for three of the most expensive suits I ever owned, and ordered that they be made up for me at once.
The three suits came to $375.00!
I shall never forget the remark made by the tailor as he took my measure. Glancing first at the three bolts of expensive cloth which I had selected, and then at me, he inquired:
“Dollar-a-year man, eh?”
“No,” said I, “if I had been fortunate enough to get on the dollar-a-year payroll I might now have enough money to pay for these suits.”
The tailor looked at me with surprise. I don’t think he got the joke.
One of the suits was a beautiful dark gray; one was a dark blue; the other was a light blue with a pin stripe.
Fortunately I was in good standing with my tailor, therefore he did not ask when I was going to pay for those expensive suits.
I knew that I could and would pay for them in due time, but could I have convinced him of that? This was the thought which was running through my mind, with hope against hope that the question would not be brought up.
I then visited my haberdasher, from whom I purchased three less expensive suits and a complete supply of the best shirts, collars, ties, hosiery and underwear that he carried.
My bill at the haberdasher’s amounted to a little over $300.00.
With an air of prosperity I nonchalantly signed the charge ticket and tossed it back to the salesman, with instructions to deliver my purchase the following morning. The feeling of renewed self-reliance and success had begun to come over me, even before I had attired myself in my newly purchased outfit.
I was out of the war and $675.00 in debt, all in less than twenty-four hours.
The following day the first of the three suits ordered from the haberdasher was delivered. I put it on at once, stuffed a new silk handkerchief in the outside pocket of my coat, shoved the $50.00 I had borrowed on my ring down into my pants pocket, and walked down Michigan Boulevard, in Chicago, feeling as rich as Rockefeller.
Every article of clothing I wore, from my underwear out, was of the very best. That it was not paid for was nobody’s business except mine and my tailor’s and my haberdasher’s.
Every morning I dressed myself in an entirely new outfit, and walked down the same street, at precisely the same hour. That hour “happened” to be the time when a certain wealthy publisher usually walked down, the same street, on his way to lunch.
I made it my business to speak to him each day, and occasionally I would stop for a minute’s chat with him.
After this daily meeting had been going on for about a week I met this publisher one day, but decided I would see if he would let me get by without speaking.
Watching him from under my eyelashes I looked straight ahead, and started to pass him when he stopped and motioned me over to the edge of the sidewalk, placed his hand on my shoulder, looked me over from head to foot, and said: “You look damned
prosperous for a man who has just laid aside a uniform. Who makes your clothes?”
“Well,” said I, “Wilkie & Sellery made this particular suit.”
He then wanted to know what sort of business I was engaged in. That “airy” atmosphere of prosperity which I had been wearing, along with a new and
different suit every day, had got the better of his curiosity. (I had hoped that it would.)
Flipping the ashes from my Havana perfecto, I said “Oh, I am preparing the copy for a new magazine that I am going to publish.”
“A new magazine, eh?” he queried, “and what are you going to call it?”
“It is to be named Hill’s Golden Rule.”
“Don’t forget,” said my publisher friend, “that I am in the business of printing and distributing magazines. Perhaps I can serve you, also.”
That was the moment for which I had been waiting. I had that very moment, and almost the very spot of ground on which we stood, in mind when I was purchasing those new suits.
But, is it necessary to remind you, that conversation never would have taken place had this publisher observed me walking down that street from day-to-day, with a “whipped-dog” look on my face, an un-pressed suit on my back and a look of poverty in my eyes.
An appearance of prosperity attracts attention always, with no exceptions whatsover. Moreover, a look of prosperity attracts “favorable attention,” because the one dominating desire in every human heart is to be prosperous.