I never imagined that a set of clothes could put a smile on my face, but that was before I tried on my new suit.

Last Tuesday after work, I walked down to the Brook Brothers store located on LaSalle and Adams near the Chicago Board of Trade.

Almost every wall had wooden shelf cases with shirts stacked practically to the ceiling. And upstairs, it seemed like there were enough suits to clothe an entire town. After first trying on a dark navy jacket, I chose a two-buttoned grey, and a trim, white-haired man made small chalk markings on the fabric while he took measurements.

This expert tailor finished my suit today, and I picked it up this evening.

And as I was walking back, I realized that most of what I was wearing happened to be made right here in America. The suit I was carrying. The shirt I was wearing. My belt. And even my underwear. All had a “Made in the USA” label.

At that moment, in the light of the setting sun, I took satisfaction in completing a long day of hard work. Because I had given thought to my purchases, other Americans could also share in the pride of a job well done. And I smiled.