Sixteen Ounces of Style

By Rick Horowitz

The gates of fashion swing wide for me once again. I stride sleekly into the room as conversations cease all around me. Men eye me enviously from behind their hard-boiled eggs. "He looks so...so light," they think to themselves. Women fill my pockets with names and numbers and impossible requests. I choose a lucky one from among them, fairly shimmer across the dance floor for a moment and roll to a full stop before a triple helping of chocolate mousse. Yesterday was just the same, and tomorrow will be, too.

You marvel at me. How do I manage it?

I will tell you: I fantasize a lot. And in my fantasies, I am wearing my brand new one-pound suit.

"A one-pound suit," you say. "Absurd!" Of course -- but true. It was right there in the clothing ads, and where were you? Three or four times a year, the Sunday papers devote an entire section to the things I don't have in my wardrobe. I could find it depressing, watching nose-against-the-glass as $1200 wristwatches, $300 slacks and $90 shirts pass before me, but I choose to be inspired instead.

I read each section cover to cover, and so I know what they'll be wearing each season, whoever they are, and what I'd be wearing, too, if I were who they are. Or even nearly. And unless I miss my guess, the biggest (that may not be the right word for it) thing filtering down to the masses this summer will be the one-pound suit.

"Why live on lettuce, do sit-ups or give up dessert," asked last year's pioneering ad, "when you can lose two pounds by just wearing (our brand)?" Don't you love it? Aren't you sorry you didn't see it for yourself? Don't you want to know more? Here's more:

The manufacturer of this bit of progress claimed the idea was an exclusive, and who would doubt it? For years, the partly portly and the semi-stout have been told to stick to dark colors and solids, perhaps a subtle pinstripe for those special occasions when the lights were turned down low.

All these created the illusion of thinness, to be sure, but it was the eye being fooled, never the scale. There was always the danger that some admirer, enthralled at the sight of the seemingly slender you, would grab you by the armpits and hoist you into the air, and then where would you be?

But worry no more, this ad said to those troubled souls -- we live in an age of miracles. Deck yourself out in a one-pound suit, and your bulk is your own business. (You'll want to make sure, of course, that you're still hoisted by the armpits; a friendly arm around the waist will store find every bit of you that was there before.)

If I read this right, the one-pounder will soon be everyman's suit, for those with an actual weight problem, and for those who simply want to shave a pound or two without much effort. With dieting being as much fun as dieting is, cutting down by fabric could be a real growth industry, so to speak. I haven't a doubt that, even now, some firm someplace is working on a shortsleeve jacket for even quicker weight loss. And business knickers are next, friends, mark my words. (I wonder: Can you wear sandals with a blue suit?)

You'd think there'd be a point of diminishing returns -- after all, the less you see of clothing, the more you see of you. But then, I've never written ad copy for the magazines: There's fantasy, and there's fantasy.

Meanwhile, the band strikes up another tune, and I dab the last of the whipped cream from an upper lip. The crowd seems to part in less than an instant, and there we are at the center of the dance floor once again with a hundred pairs of eyes upon us -- whirling and floating, whirling and floating, light as a feather, all summer long.

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