I had walked into a few suit shops that day to no avail. When I wasn't being completely ignored, I was being misunderstood, belittled, bedeviled, and befondled. (OK, maybe not the last one.)
At last, I pedalled my way to the heart of Kensington and Tom's Place. It's a two-story affair filled with more suits than the York Street Keg on Thursday night. I was IMMEDIATELY asked if I need help upon walking in, and the salesman clued into my needs and budget just as quickly. Within a few short minutes I was trying on an affordable black Hugo Boss, and a few minutes after that, it was in my hot little hands, hemmed and all.
Tom himself is on hand to discount every purchase with a gallant wave of his hand, and don't be afraid to ask for a discount. The cheaper suits line the first floor, and you can find more expensive options upstairs. Definitely a Kensington institution.
Obligatory Title Pun: These suits are aTOMic! (What does this mean?)
Menu Readability: Vat you say?
Need to mention: There are thousands of suits here. It's out of control.
What this place teaches me about myself: I hate suits and I hope I never have to buy one again.