"My God, Harvey, I was measuring the boy for a suit, not a spandex leotard. He had his undershirt and trousers on the whole time."
Harvey looks at himself in the fitting room mirror – stripped down to his boxer-briefs, as always – and then at René.
"Oh, darling." René smiles, and pats Harvey's bum affectionately. "We all have to have our little indulgences.

хахахаха, perfect, perfection