The Outfit

To the naked eye,

a suit appears to consist of two parts:

a jacket and trousers.

But those two seemingly solid parts

are composed of four different fabrics.

Cotton, silk, mohair and wool.

And those four fabrics are cut into 38 separate pieces.

The process of sizing, forming, conjoining those pieces

requires no fewer than 228 steps.

So the first step is measurement.

But "measurement" doesn't mean, uh, just reaching for your tap,

"So many inches here, so many inches there."

No, no, no.

You cannot make something good

until you understand who you're making it for.

All clothing says something.

I've had gentlemen walk into my shop and boast,

"Oh, I don't care about what I wear."

And assuming that's true, doesn't that say something, to?

So, who is your customer?

And what are you trying to say about him?

A man walks through your door, what about him can you observe?

Good morning.

Is he timid,

hunched over like a midday clock?

Or does he stand with confidence,

spine at six and twelve?

Is this a man of springtime pastel,

clamoring to be noticed?

Or is this a man of gray and brown,

blending into the hurried crow?

Is this a man comfortable in his station?

Or does he pine for grander things?

And who would this man like to be?

And who is he underneath?

Take your measure...

...and when you understand who he is...

Mr. Boyle.

...then you're ready to begin.

Knock, knock.

- Hmm. - How's business, English?

Evening, sirs.

- Oh, wow. It's a nice one. - Mm-hmm.

Yeah, that's really nice.

You making that for my pops?

Not this one.

You're making those fine threads for somebody else? Who?

Master Richie, you know I can't talk about my gentlemen.

Huh. Is that what we are? Your gentlemen.

Whoa, get a load of English.

Keeping his lips shut tight.

- Your father was here. - Oh, yeah?

Uh... yesterday.

He said your business

is undergoing some manner of expansion.

He said I should plan on making you a new suit to celebrate.

Francis, what do you think? New threads? Long as we're here?

- Not tonight. - Hey, come on. We got time.

Not tonight.

Oh, shit.

Is that from the Outfit?

English, do me a favor.

Why don't you, uh, go up front,

check on your secretary for me, all right?

Will you excuse me, gentlemen.

It's the Outfit, man.

It's his brass ring right here.

Right, go ahead, open it up. See what it says.

Any mail?

Do you want to talk about it?

The mail?

That they gave you the boot.

What's in the box?

That one's mine.

Let's have a look.

Okay.

No, no, let me guess.

Uh, the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Mm-mm.

I've never understood the appeal.

All it does is lean.

The Eiffel Tower?

I already have that.

Well, then I give up.

What is that?

I'll show you.

Ah-ha.

I feel at home again.

Isn't it beautiful?

It's a clock.

Unlike some of us, I've never seen it in person.

In person, it's still a clock.

On the banks of the Thames.

- You've seen clocks in Chicago? - Yes, of course, but...

They look startlingly similar in London.

Okay.

I will never understand you.

Well, you will never be a-a dashing gentleman

of a certain age.

You've been all over the world.

You could have a shop anywhere you like.

And yet you're here.

What's wrong with here?

I can think of a few things.

Some things one finds everywhere, dear.

So it doesn't terribly much matter where I am.

I have me shears.

What else does a man need besides his shears?

And I have you.

Not forever.

Ah, yes.

Ben awaits.

One way or another...

...I'm getting out of here.

To London?

To London.

And Madrid.

- And Barcelona. - Mm.

And Morocco.

And to Paris.

You know what'd make it happen a lot sooner?

- A map? - A raise. Please.

I best go see if Master Richie needs me.

Ah.

Speak of the devils.

What's that now?

Just an expression, sirs.

Excuse me.

I meant no offense.

See you tomorrow.

The horologist's apprentice popped in yesterday.

He's awfully nice.

S... What'd he... uh, who-who?

From down the street.

He's ever so handsome.

Are you... trying to get me to go on a date

with the guy who works at the watch shop?

He's an apprentice to the horologist.

The one with the little mustache?

Yes, like Errol Flynn.

I do not need you telling me who to date.

I didn't mean it like that.

You meant it like, "I saw you smiling at Richie Boyle earlier"

"and now I'm petrified

that you're running with a bad batch."

Those men may be customers, but they are not gentlemen.

Could've fooled me in those nice clothes you make for 'em.

If we only allowed angels to be customers,

soon we'd have no customers at all.

Do we let all of our customers keep lockboxes in back?

It was you who was smiling at him.

I've spent my entire life

around animals like Richie Boyle.

You want to get him to back off, you look him dead in the eyes

and you pretend you're one of 'em.

You don't need me worrying after you.

- That's right. - You can take care of yourself.

You're not my...

- You know. - I do.

My father was a shit, so y-y-y...

Take that as a compliment.

I will.

I know...

that you hope that I'll start loving this

- the way that you do. - No. I don't.

- I don't. - That I'll train...

learn the craft.

One day maybe even take over the shop.

But I don't want that. I don't want your life.

You're entitled to your own.

- I am. - You're a smart young woman

who's going to take herself

- far away from here. - I will.

And when I go, I just don't want you to be all alone.

I don't need you looking after me either.

After all, you're not my, you know.

Fair enough.

Now, if you want that raise,

first you have to learn what a bloody square looks like.

MABLE We gotta find the keys.

Uh...

They were right here.

And... what did I do with them?

Hey. What's this book do, by the way?

I always wondered what this was.

Richie.

Don't touch anything.

Hey.

Mm.

- I just said don't touch anything. - These are gorgeous.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

He likes things the way that he likes them.

Okay.

What a fucking buster, huh?

He cares about what he does,

and that's why he's the best at it.

Yeah.

Like... somebody else I know.

Hmm.

What is that? Are you fucking with me?