During my final visit to Ray Bennett Men’s Wear, the iconic proprietor made sure I had cashed in a gift certificate that had actually been used almost a year previously. I was suspicious that the certificate hadn’t been lost in paperwork, as he insisted; rather, I wondered if the sales-savvy Mr. Bennett was attempting to take me back in time, before the recession, when I might have felt more willing to spend.
He needn’t have bothered; for one last time, I was taking my own trip back in time as I walked past his always-impeccable window display and into his carefully-arranged day-to-day world.
It was like this, I’m certain, for almost any St. Marys area man. Whether they took place often or only on very special occasions, visions of the interior of Ray Bennett Men’s Wear and of its well-appointed owner were etched in their minds during childhood visits with their father, mother, grandfather or grandmother.
In this memory, a measuring tape is draped across Mr. Bennett’s neck. In another, he thoughtfully handwrites the receipt and tucks it in the box. And now, he strolls out onto the sidewalk wearing his trademark hat, and the little boy excitedly tells his mother that “there’s the man from Ray Bennett Men’s Wear!”
On subsequent, solitary visits to the store as I grew older, he would offer a compliment on my complexion, look over the clothing in which I was attired, and suggest I needed a new shirt, vest or pair of pants. Then, following a surprised “uh, yeah, you’re right,” from me (even if that wasn’t what I had come in looking for), he would appear, almost magically, holding one – or, at the most, two – options from which to choose. They would be the perfect size; and the perfect colour.
If I suggested I had been thinking about a different style of shirt, cut of pants, or material for the vest, he would respectfully disagree. “No, that wouldn’t look right on you,” he would say.
Two days later, having received countless compliments on my new purchase, I would know that, once again, Ray had been right.
On this particular late June visit, however, Mr. Bennett did not appear at my side shortly after my arrival. Leading up to the closure of the 50-plus-year-old business, the store was hectic. At least two other customers had arrived just before me. So it wasn’t until I had moved from the peaked caps to the button-down shirts – in search of hidden gems at reduced prices – that he inquired about my already-used gift certificate.
Seeing him, Dustin Hoffman suddenly flashed before my eyes, in his title role in Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium. In the film, Hoffman plays an ageless (well, not quite, but 243 years old is close enough) toy store proprietor who decides to call it quits. I wondered if, similar to the left-over inventory in the movie, whatever clothes were left on Ray Bennett’s shelves on July 1 would suddenly lose their colour and become misshapen.
Weeks later, however, it was an entirely different theatrical experience that brought me back to the now-closed store.
Wearing the reduced-price gem of a shirt that I found that day (I originally protested to Mr. Bennett that my wife would hate the blackish/reddish plaid design. Mr. Bennett assured me otherwise. Once again, he was correct), I experienced the Stratford Festival production of Peter Pan.
“The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up,” as Pan was alternatively named, offers a perfect parallel for the way many of us St. Marys-native men are feeling these past few weeks. As the workers redesign the store and the sign proclaims the imminent opening of Stewart’s Books, we lament that a piece of our childhood has been irrevocably lost. No longer will we be able to walk past that impeccably-arranged window, through that Queen Street doorway, into our past.
As the Stratford production clearly emphasizes, there are pitfalls to holding back the advance of time – pitfalls we probably don’t want to experience. But, even knowing that, it doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye and move on.
All the best, Mr. Bennett. May the brim of your hat always provide the perfect combination of shade for protection and light to show the way.