The Burlington Coat Factory Saga

Feb/2007

At the time, I was living in Albany, NY with my pregnant girlfriend, working as a counselor, and training for my next arena football season. As with any other period in my life, I liked to shop for clothes. I am an admitted clothes whore, no denial here. I have tried rehab, 12 step programs, and quitting cold turkey, but to no avail. At times, I find myself wandering the streets aimlessly in the wee morning hours waiting for the store to open. On this occasion, I found myself in Burlington Coat Factory looking for my next high. They have racks and racks of clothing for Big and Tall men, though I wouldn't wear 90% of it. The other 10% is my goal, though this trip proved to be even more disheartening. I am a methodical shopper at times. I will comb through racks and racks of clothing to emerge with 1 shirt. On this day, I triumphed with 10 shirts, which are good odds that 4 will fit properly. I carried the booty back to the fitting rooms and try on shirt after shirt, until they all are sitting in the "back to the rack" pile. All were 3XL, but some fit like a XL, others weren't long enough in the sleeves, and some looked like a belly shirt on me. Now the belly shirt would be cool in some circles, but a no no for an individual with stomach hair, pride, and common sense. Thoroughly frustrated, I walked through the store a little pissed at the two hours spent searching for something to wear and coming up with lint in my hair. I peered across the racks of clothing and a light bulb goes off. As they say, from chaos comes clarity. So began the idea of making my own shirts.