The Gentleman Clothier

By Norm Foster

Experienced tailor Norman Davenport has barely opened the doors to his new clothing store in downtown Halifax when Sophie, an exuberant young woman, barges in looking for work, followed by Patrick, a single father who claims to be handy. Hesitantly Norman hires them both to tie up the last few threads before the grand opening. And whether Norman realizes it or not, he needs help getting into the twenty-first century to cater to the current tastes of his customers. When the shop’s first customer, Alisha Sparrow, a friendly, attractive woman, drops in looking for a suit for her husband, Norman is smitten against his better judgment. His sensible, modest world has become profoundly complicated in less than a week, and Norman longs to live in a simpler time. Unfortunately for him, his life is about to get messier as he wakes to find things are not what they used to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Playwrights Canada Press
• Release date: Apr 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781770915299

Norm Foster

Norm Foster has been the most produced playwright in Canada every year for the past twenty years. His plays receive an average of one hundred and fifty productions annually. Norm has over sixty plays to his credit, including The Foursome, On a First Name Basis, and Hilda’s Yard. He is the recipient of the Los Angeles Drama-Logue Award for his play The Melville Boys and is an Officer of the Order of Canada. He lives in Fredericton.

Book preview

The Gentleman Clothier was first produced at the Lighthouse Festival Theatre in Port Dover, Ontario, from August 17 to September 13, 2014, with the following creative team:

CHARACTERS

Norman Davenport

Sophie Tomesko

Alisha Sparrow

Patrick Markham

SET

The play is set in Davenport’s Gentlemen’s Clothing store. There is a counter and some seating as well. A very classy operation. The front door upstage centre has the shade pulled down. You cannot see outside.

ACT ONE

SCENE 1

Time: Monday morning. The present.

Place: Davenport’s Gentlemen’s Clothing. Halifax.

Lights up as NORMAN Davenport unlocks the front door and enters the store. He wears a suit that could very well have been in fashion in the eighteen hundreds. He also carries a men’s satchel bag. He turns the lights on and begins to get ready for his day. SOPHIE Tomesko enters the store carrying two coffees. SOPHIE is about twenty-five years old and is very punk looking. Spiked hair, etc. She wears a funky outfit but not so outlandish as to be off-putting. She is wearing pants of some kind and not a skirt.

SOPHIE:

Good morning.

NORMAN:

And good morning to you. I’m sorry but we’re not open yet.

SOPHIE:

I know.

NORMAN:

That’s why the shade is pulled down. We don’t officially open until Saturday.

SOPHIE:

I know that. I was in the coffee shop across the street waiting for you. Do you take your coffee black or with cream and sugar?

NORMAN:

Cream and sugar.

SOPHIE:

There you go.

She hands NORMAN a coffee.

NORMAN:

Thank you. That’s very kind. Do you take yours black?

SOPHIE:

No. This has got cream and sugar in it too.

NORMAN:

But what if I wanted mine black?

SOPHIE:

Then I would have gone back and got you one.

NORMAN:

I see.

SOPHIE:

Only thirty-five percent of coffee drinkers take theirs black. I was playing the odds.

NORMAN:

Well, good for you. But as I said, we are not open yet. That’s why the . . .

SOPHIE:

The shade’s pulled down, I know. I’m Sophie Tomesko.

NORMAN:

Norman Davenport.

They shake hands.

SOPHIE:

How do you do?

NORMAN:

I’m fine. Why were you waiting for me?

SOPHIE:

I want a job. I’m a tailor. A good tailor. My father was a tailor and his father was a tailor. Tomesko and Son.

NORMAN:

I know that shop. Or I knew of it. They closed down last year.

SOPHIE:

My father died.

NORMAN:

I’m sorry.

SOPHIE:

He left the shop to my idiot cousin who sold it to somebody else and they opened a pet store. A pet store! My father wanted a son so he could pass the business on to him, but he had me instead. He didn’t think a woman would make a proper tailor. He didn’t think men would go to a woman tailor, so he refused to leave the shop to me. I told him, I said, Dad, I’m a lesbian. I’d make a great tailor. That wasn’t good enough for him.

NORMAN:

You think you would make a great tailor because you’re a lesbian?

SOPHIE:

You think I wouldn’t?

NORMAN:

I don’t think it would matter.

SOPHIE:

I was fighting stupid logic with more stupid logic. It didn’t work.

NORMAN:

Why didn’t you buy the shop from your idiot cousin?

SOPHIE:

Why should I buy something that should have rightfully been mine in the first place?

NORMAN:

I see.

SOPHIE:

And I didn’t have any money.

NORMAN:

Uh-huh. So, what makes you think you would make a great tailor, if you don’t mind my asking.

SOPHIE:

I am a great tailor, if you don’t mind my bragging.

NORMAN:

And where have you worked?

SOPHIE:

Over the past five years I have been employed as an office temp, a shoe clerk, a fast-food restaurant drive-through coordinator, and I just left my most recent position two days ago.

NORMAN:

And where was that?

SOPHIE:

A pet store.

NORMAN:

But you have no experience as a tailor?

SOPHIE:

None.

NORMAN:

And yet you profess to be a great tailor.

SOPHIE:

I am a great tailor.

NORMAN:

All right, you can say that, Miss Tomesko, but saying it doesn’t make it so. Great tailors have earned the right to lay claim to greatness. I learned my trade from Solomon Brozik.

SOPHIE:

He was one of the best.

NORMAN:

He was. I apprenticed under him for three years. I watched his every move. His every stitch. And then he sent me off to learn from others. I worked for Henry Chang, Klaus Veermonk, Rupert Madison. Each one a master tailor.

SOPHIE:

They are.

NORMAN:

And still I only consider myself an accomplished tailor. All right, a very accomplished tailor. And yet you come bounding in professing to be a great tailor, and who have you studied under?

SOPHIE:

Jacob Tomesko Junior and Jacob Tomesko Senior.

NORMAN:

I don’t dispute the quality of your father’s and grandfather’s work, but office temp, shoe clerk, fast-food . . .

SOPHIE:

Restaurant drive-through coordinator.

NORMAN:

Thank you. These are not the stepping stones to great tailoring.

SOPHIE:

I’m a great tailor. I am.

NORMAN:

Again, Miss Tomesko, saying it does not make it so.

SOPHIE:

All right. All right. Neck fifteen and a half. Sleeves thirty-four. Chest thirty-eight. Waist thirty-six. Inseam thirty-four and a half. And you dress on the left.

NORMAN:

Neck is fifteen and a quarter.

SOPHIE:

That’s what you think.

NORMAN:

I believe I know the size of my own neck.

SOPHIE pulls out a measuring tape.

SOPHIE:

Do you? Well, let’s just see, shall we?

She measures NORMAN’s neck.

NORMAN:

A measuring tape? Miss Tomesko, this is fruitless. Really.

SOPHIE:

Fifteen and a half.

NORMAN:

What?

She shows him the tape.

SOPHIE:

Fifteen and a half. But don’t feel bad. I mean, how often do you measure your own neck?

NORMAN:

I can’t believe it.

SOPHIE:

Perhaps too many doughnuts with your coffee recently.

NORMAN:

Fine. You are a great measurement taker. That doesn’t make you a great tailor.

SOPHIE:

I am a great tailor.

NORMAN:

Stop saying that.

SOPHIE:

Test me.

NORMAN:

Test you?

SOPHIE:

Ask me about tailoring.