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FINE FEATHERS 187
hung in a closet, unworn. This was too much. He kept thinking about all those suits just hanging in a closet, doing no one any good. It became an obsession with him, for he was fond of fine clothes himself but couldn't afford them. Finally the temptation became too great. He tried on one of my suits and it fitted him perfectly. So that night he wore the suit to see his best girl and made a very favorable impression.
After *that the young lady was dazzled by the array of suits that her swain displayed. He was by far the best-dressed fellow she had ever known, and in no time at all she was engaged to him. I understand that the young man is now operating a successful business in Long Beach and has an extensive wardrobe of his own.
A great many movie plots have revolved around the complications that consequently develop when one man wears another man's clothes. But the strangest incident of this sort that I ever heard about actually happened to George Murphy. One day he was laying out his clothes for a new picture. His dinner jacket was enclosed in a paper wrapper just as it had come from the cleaner a few days before. When he tore off the paper covering, he thought the jacket looked a bit unfamiliar and considerably too large. Examination proved that it was not his jacket. He inspected the tailor's label inside the pocket and took down the name. Then he went to the telephone and called his cleaner.
"There's been a mistake," he explained. "You've sent me a tuxedo belonging to a Mr. J. Ditmar Fussbuckle. Probably you've sent my jacket to Mr. Fussbuckle."
"We'll check and call you right back," the cleaner promised.
But the cleaner did not call back. George became impatient. He was starting a picture in a day or two and he needed the dinner jacket. He called the cleaner again.
"What about my dinner jacket?"
"We're very sorry, Mr. Murphy, but we're having a little trouble locating it. You see, Mr. Fussbuckle died a few days ago and nobody at his house seems to be able to find your suit."