Alan Alda, Steve Martin and The Great Plotnik

This is not Steve Martin, though person after person tells The Great Plotnik that he looks like Steve Martin. This is Alan Alda. The Great Plotnik does not look like Alan Alda, but he is thinking he ought to try a little harder. For one thing, it's the gray suit and tie. It doesn't look gray in this photo taken off the TV, but it was, and not light gray either but, ah, you know, bold gray. And his coat was kind of dark grayish-thing-stuff, and with the bold gray shirt and, well, the somewhat shy but still assertive gray tie, he looked really good.

Alan Alda is olda than Plotnik. But when Plotnik puts on his coat and tie, which he has done for so many weddings this year, he looks in the mirror and does not see Alan Alda. He does not even see Steve Martin. He sees somebody who looks kind of silly. This must change.

But if he bares his secret to The Great Ducknik, she'll say: "Great, Plotnik, I'll take you shopping. Let's go."

Brrrr-rrrrr. Plotnik HATES shopping for suits and sports coats. Those racks, black, black, dark blue, less dark blue but still dark blue, sort of black but with a little blue, oooh, here's a dark, dark blue with a little black...Plotnik always feels like each jacket is hanging on a personal injury attorney. There's gotta be another way.

A few years ago, Plotnik was in Bangkok, where all the tailors are Indians. Go figure. Anyway, he let the cadre of swirling measuring tapes delineate his every inch, and then he chose fabrics and styles from a book. He ordered slacks, a tie or two, a jacket or two, don't forget the shiny off-white Chinese collar silk shirt, and other shirts and maybe more.

Ducknik hates every single garment. She particularly dislikes the blue-checked sport shirt. True, they made it a bit small, but you don't have to button everything. Plotnik is quite fond of the green tweed sports coat. The slacks could be longer, he admits it.

Anyway, it all hangs in Plotnik's closet, 'waaaaay in the back near the Klondike-rated bathrobe.