The Bespoke Overcoat

Fender... dead.

That old man Fender.

Yeah, it's a funny thing.

"You're a good tailor", he used to say to me.

"Morry, you're a good tailor.

Look around you, I don't care where you look, you're a number one tailor".

A number one tailor.

All right, I told you... l'm a good tailor.

It's only the truth. I'm a good tailor.

Straight away, I say I made a mistake. I fell in.

"How much", Fender says to me, "will you take to mend my old coat?".

It must be 20 years old. It's falling to pieces on his back.

Look, Fender, do me a favour, take the coat somewhere else.

A new coat I can make, but the union says no miracles.

Who could mend such a coat?

I finished your new coat... as soon as I can.

Didn't I, Fender?

I got troubles enough.

After all, I'm in Bond Street.

I'm a merchant prince.

- I'm not even a limited company. - I thought you was a limited company.

Me? Never! What do I want with shares and directors and...

You've got no ambition.

My old governor, that Mr Ranting, managing director, three companies,

chairman six companies.

But what a man.

A good sponging - that's all it needs.

You will find the custom all right.

It's a beautlful coat, Morry.

You're a number one tailor.

You ain't dead?

Sure I'm dead.

Would I sit here in the freezing cold if I wasn't dead?

Feel my hand.

That lousy brandy. It can kill you.

I won't touch the rotten brandy again.

Feel.

- Believe me, you are cold. - All I want is to get back.

Oh, listen, Morry. Sit down.

You know they got central heating down there?

- Down there? - I tell you, Morry, a secret.

Everybody goes down there.

You know who I met?

Lenny.

Lenny from Fournier Street?

Who else?

He's doing the same job and what herrings?

It's not a pleasure for me to come back here.

Fender... You don't hold anything against me, do you, Fender?

Believe me, if I'd known you would have catched a cold and died,

- I would give you mine own coat. - I got nothing against you, Morry.

But my life... a life.

Fender, you ain't going to haunt me? You wouldn't haunt an old friend.

Don't talk silly, Morry.

That haunting - it's a special job.

They don't give it to new residents. For haunting, you get a commission.

- So, listen... - So light a gas ring.

So at least I don't freeze to de...

Listen to me. "To death", I nearly said.

It's funny. How I still feel the cold.

Now, Fender, I'm glad you enjoy being dead.

I'm not even getting insulted over that overcoat

that you throw it back in my face like machine goods.

Morry, it's nothing personal.

You always was one to take everything so personal.

All right, then.

So, Fender, you won't think I'm rude, if I ask you, what more do you want of my life?

Not from you I want, Morry, not from you.

But from that Mr Ranting.

I give him 43 years nearly.

- He must give me something. - Something?

43 years a clerk in the Ranting Warehouse Clothing Company.

So long.

43 years next Purim if I didn't die before.

No wonder I don't lose any sleep about dying.

After that place, any change would be a pleasure.

- 40 gross celluloid collars. - Collars, 40 gross celluloid.

'Celluloid' makes with a 'c', no 's'.

- What more? - 11 dozen raincoats, Prussian collar.

11 dozen raincoats, Russian collar.

Prussian collar!

You know something, Mr Ranting?

It's cold in this warehouse.

I said it's cold, Mr Ranting. I feel the cold something terrible.

Fender, I don't think you enjoy your work like you did in the olden days.

What an idea. I enjoy my work.

Certainly I enjoy. I feel the cold, that's all.

Naturally, you're getting on. The work's hard. Nobody is as young as they used to be.

What you are talking, Mr Ranting? Nobody is young as they used to be?

And how could he?

I'm saying, Fender, an old man is an old man.

Mr Ranting, I'll tell you something.

My father, when he was 70, no, over 70,

he could bend a horseshoe straight with his bare hands.

And even he felt the cold bad.

All I'm saying is, stop driving me mad with your crying, "It's so cold, it's so cold".

Get yourself a new overcoat, you won't feel it.

Mr Ranting...

I'll make an arrangement with you.

I'll take one of the overcoats, the big ones, with the sheepskin lining,

and every week from my wages, take off a certain sum.

No? A proposition, Mr Ranting.

One of them coats, Fender?

Leave me alone.

A coat like that is worth 20 pounds of anybody's money.

What do you make? With all due respect, Fender, what do you make?

You won't live so long to pay off such a coat.

That's true.

So, what can you do?

17 dozen pair shooting breeches.

17 dozen pair breeches.

Shooting.

Maybe Morry can mend the old coat again.

After all he's a good tailor.

Look, Fender, look, the seams is all rotten.

Look, the lining, it's like ribbons. Look, the material, it's threadbare.

A tailor like you, Morry, to make such a fuss. You should be ashamed.

- The padding is like an old horse blanket. - Who asked for new padding?

Only make the coat good. Who cares about the padding?

So long as the coat is warm.

- It can't be done. - Don't make jokes, Morry.

If I'm telling you it can't be done, it can't be done.

All right, so charge a little more.

Charge? What does charge matter? I'm telling you, it can't be done.

Why are you so hard for, Morry?

After all, you can patch with offcuts.

I'm not asking, after all, for West End style.

I should look so smart. I don't care how smart. Only mend the coat, Morry.

Fender, listen to me, Fender. A good coat like I make has got 20 years' wear.

I use good materials, Crombie tweed, what you like. The best.

Then I use a wonderful lining.

Someone else would make from it a wedding dress, such lining I use.

A wedding dress.

You make marvellous lining, Morry.

I make the whole coat, the buttonholes, the pockets, everything.

Don't I tell everybody?

Morry? A needle like Paganini, I tell everybody.

Fender, for you, I will make such a coat for cost.

How much cost such a coat, Morry?

- Well, three yards, say. - Say two and a half.

- And lining? - Don't worry yourself with lining.

Well, I could make you a good coat for...

12 pound.

You can't mend the old coat?

Fender, do me a favour. You're driving me...

I can ask. After all, 12 pounds - that's money.

Fender, I break my neck. Ten pounds for the coat. You got ten pounds?

I look like a banker?

A rise. You should ask that Ranting for a rise.

He's entitled after so long.

I can save ten pounds.

So I'm going to have made a bespoke overcoat?

Bespoke is good.

Certainly bespoke. Do you think I would wear Ranting's rubbish?

The client's chair.

- Thank you. - Now, what material do you want?

- I can choose material? - There you are. Patterns.

- The grey is not nice for me. - No.

- The blue is better. - Blue is nice - you can wear for any occasion.

- Nigger brown is fine. - For a young man.

- Black is always good. - Black is good, but a nice dark blue is nicer.

Yeah. Believe me, Morry, I think you're right. The blue is good.

And thick. What a material.

I should say.

So you can save ten pound?

Save? Sure I can save.

An old man like me, if I got an overcoat, what do I need?

- Bespoke? - So? What more can I need?

At least let me put the pockets in.

A bagel. It's enough.

After all, bread and salt is food.

When I get the coat, I'll put it on, I'll walk up to a table,

I'll sit down in the overcoat...

Blue, nice...

Hey, missus, a bowl of soup and a bagel.

I don't think I got room for these bits, no.

I couldn't eat another thing. I'm full up.

I couldn't eat even a fresh latke or a piece of cheesecake.

16 dozen flying jackets.

With such jackets you can fly?

How many times have I got to tell you, Fender? Don't eat in the warehouse.

It brings the mice.

The mice eat the clothing.

How many clothing can a little mouse eat?

A ten-pound coat for Fender.

It tastes no good any more.

In the old days, it'd be six clients a week.

A coat, a suit, a spare pair of trousers.

If I had a boy, I wouldn't let him see a needle and thread.

Mind you, for ten pounds it's a wonderful coat.

The material, the seams.

No wind can blow through a coat like this.