I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine

Does anybody else think it's odd that Michael wrote about pants on Monday, considering how many of his favorite adventures occur sans pantaloons? No? Okay then.
Ah yes, clothing. Clothing for our good friends who make up the spirited rock combo known and adored as Queen. As Michael mentioned, we're good pals with those fellow and have been for some time. Quite a while before they broke though into the big time, actually. It should come as no big surprise that some of our influence would rub off on them. And while a good set of trousers is a wonderful thing, I'm more of a jacket man myself.
Often, when we'd have a party, Queen's lead crooner Freddie would offer to help park cars. As an up-and-coming musician, he was frequently light on scratch and the tips he got provided some much-needed 'walking around' money. He wasn't an employee, just a friend that we were happy to help by putting him to work. One night before one of our larger soirees, he came over early, as he often did because he could get in a quick game of squash with us before the evening's activities got underway. But on this particular day, he didn't feel like playing. He was pretty down and lamenting his lack of a signature 'look'. "I'm very comfortable performing in this white pants and tank top get-up", he said. "But I look like a house painter. That's not exactly rock n roll and definitely now what I'm going for, really." "I've always thought of you as more like a circus acrobat from the 1920's", I offered helpfully. "Honestly, when you perform, I don't know whether to hold up a lighter or shoot you out of a cannon." I suggested that he combine the outfit he already wore for comfort and combine it with a stylish, flashy jacket of some sort. He and I spent the next couple of hours brainstorming...

"A classic, of course, but it's been done"



"And re-done"



"Nah, too studded"

"Nah, too zipper-y"

"Nah, way too big."

Freddie was really down now. He sighed heavily and said, "Well, let me get out to the car park booth. Guests will be arriving soon." I stopped him before he trudged out the door. "Wait, Freddie", I said. "Safety first!", and I handed him the standard-issue yellow slicker that we required all of our parking attendants to wear.

Freddie suddenly got a big smile on his face and bounded out the door. I'd never seen him so excited about safety!
Oddly, he didn't stick around long enough that night to park a single car, but shortly after that, good things started to happen for the band. So that worked out nicely.