I remember the first time I walked into Keezer's as a freshman, it felt like entering a new world of fashion. Gone were the days of sweat pants and tennis shoes, I wanted to step into something with presence. Not too flashy, just right. The kind of clothes that shook your hand before you did. I wasn’t there for a specific occasion, just a quiet sense that college deserved a sharper, little more grown version of me.

​

Stepping in, the bell above the door jingled with that old-school charm, and the smell of pressed wool and cedar hit me like a memory I didn’t know I had. An exquisite selection of suits, khakis, and crisp button-downs lined the walls, each with its own texture, its own quiet personality. Some were brand new, tags still crisp. Others carried the kind of charm only time can tailor — garments that had seen weddings, galas, maybe even an inaugural ball or two. It was part haberdashery, part time capsule, and all welcoming.

​

When going to Keezer's, I don't always have a shopping list, just questions. Lots of them.

​

Like, How do I tie a bow tie?
The guy behind the counter didn’t roll his eyes. He just pulled one off a mannequin, walked me through it step-by-step, and had me practicing on a mirror until it looked less like a crumpled pretzel and more like something Bond might wear.

​

Then there was the blue suit or grey suit debate. I paced back and forth in the mirror like I was picking a major. One of the staff gave me a once-over, tapped the hanger with a quiet nod, and said, “You’ll wear the blue one like it’s always been yours.” He was right.

​

They helped me match ties when I didn’t know the first thing about color theory. Thankfully, they gently steered me away from cowboy boots with a charcoal tux.

​

And when I showed up in a panic asking how to remove candle wax from my brand new tux (don’t ask), they didn’t flinch. Instead, Alton explained a method of ironing with paper towels that would absorb the melted wax right out.​

​

Keezer’s is the kind of place where fashion meets mentorship, where questions are the start of the experience.

 

Every time I walk in now, it feels less like entering a store and more like visiting an old friend who just happens to know exactly what you should wear for every big moment in your life.

​

And let’s just say: my sweatpants haven’t seen the light of day since.