Get him to the Oscars. A reporter's mad dash to get dressed for Hollywood's big night

LOS ANGELES − It began, as most good ideas do, on a walk.

This motley crew known as USA TODAY's National Trending Team was called to Nashville one year ago to test the novel idea of putting a group of journalists in a room together for two days.

On our first night in town, the group of us normally responsible for the night's watch on the news agreed that we would eat at one of the restaurants in the city's food hall that is de rigueur for any municipality attempting to style itself as cosmopolitan.

"It's roughly a one-mile walk," texted the night's organizer, not knowing that a path over a river and through the woods would be less treacherous than the one from The Tennessean's offices to Assembly Food Hall.

Somewhere along West End Avenue, our entertainment enthusiast Anthony Robledo decided to drop the news that he would be attending the Oscars for the first time with a nonchalance that disagreed with the facts at hand.

In the congratulations, a question fueled by years of slinging suits at a Brooks Brothers in Phoenix and a lifetime of #menswear consumption bubbled: "Do you have a tux?"

That question began a two-week dash to outfit our Guy Friday for Hollywood's biggest night.

Purchasing clothes, especially tailored clothing, out of an immediate need is less than ideal, and the specificity and lack of time for this situation compounded the difficulty.

When dealing with a piece like a tuxedo, one has to balance the ease of purchase with the cost and time needed to find the correct fit and alterations.

A guideline was added to the mission by both editorial suggestion and financial reality: acquire the clothes as inexpensively as possible.

With the quick road of a purchase from menswear value stalwart Spier and Mackay out of the question, we would need the blessing of the notably fickle thrift gods.

After Anthony provided the key measurements − chest just below the crook of the arm and an honest assessment of his waist circumference − the hunt for a 38 short was on.

This would be the point in the movie where a montage of hunting for trying on tuxedos at various thrift stores would go, however the news machine required us to feed it so organizing an in-person hunt was not possible.

Efforts were made on eBay using Boolean searches, a more refined method of combing through the virtual flea market, though none of the options would be able to reach Southern California in time. Trawling Etsy yielded one option that was adequate but did not inspire joy.

With the internet failing us, it was time to do something unthinkable − call people.

While Crowley Vintage, the vintage Mecca in New York, did not have any options, Richard's Fabulous Finds in Chicago had the one.

Photos sent from the eponymous owner showed that he had undersold the double-breasted tuxedo with grosgrain facings that would have fit in during Hollywood's golden age.

Anthony plunked down the $295 plus taxes and shipping for the tuxedo, and Richard handed it over to FedEx as quickly as he could so that it would get to Anthony in Orange County with a couple of days to spare.

It would get to him in time, right?

Since we had our centerpiece on its way, I wanted to minimize the worry on other elements of the outfit.

Black tie, the dress code tuxedos fall under, calls for tuxedo shirts that have French cuffs, take studs and either a pleated or pique bib. SuitSupply offered (and still has) a version of a tuxedo shirt with the studs included, knocking two items out in a $140 purchase.

Did Anthony give me the wrong neck size when I first went to pick it up for him at the Century City location? Yes, yes, he did. However, there is a reason we keep physical stores and when we met to put things together, it was an easy process to find the correct size and swap it out for the shirt.

Given that we did not know if this would be a one-off at the time, I laid out shoe options from eBay that were certain to get in before the show and would be useful for Anthony's day-to-day wardrobe. Naturally, he picked the most casual option − a pair of Peal and Co. black cap-toe oxfords sold under the banner of my long-ago employer, Brooks Brothers. They'd get him through, though.

The Thursday before the ceremony, Anthony got an update that the tuxedo that should have been delivered that afternoon was delayed until the next day.

Nothing to worry about, right?

That Friday, I picked up the accoutrement that remained outstanding from the venerable Beverly Hills haberdasher Carrol Custom: a grosgrain bow tie (self-tie because pre-tied is for children), formal braces and a pair of black over-the-calf socks.

While the new generation sprung from the foundational Carrol and Co. may not be a household name, for my money there is no greater source of institutional clothing knowledge − with a select few equaling it − in the City of Angels.

Was this a splurge, yes, as the bill nearly equaled that of the tuxedo itself, but the ability to say that the only outstanding pieces were the shoes and the tuxedo was worth the premium.

As I was heading away from the madness that is Rodeo Drive, I was alerted to the news that the shoes had come in early, while the tuxedo was on a delivery truck that was still nowhere to be found. We had passed the point at which having alterations done was possible, so if it got in that night or Saturday, there wouldn't be much of a difference.

FedEx delivers on Saturday, right?

I was rousted awake the Saturday morning ahead of the ceremony with a call from Anthony, the tuxedo was delayed until Monday. Apparently, the particular warehouse it landed in did not operate on Saturdays.

After some *ahem* terse calls with FedEx that yielded nothing, Anthony and I had less than 24 hours to come up with another plan.

Luckily, the Academy's dress code for the media specifies "formal attire or a dark elegant suit," and Anthony already had a black suit in his closet.

It would get him through, so long as he did not commit the sartorial sin of attempting to make it look like a tuxedo. The shirt and most of the accessories we purchased would have to be shelved, but at least the shoes would still be usable.

I loaned him a black knit tie and a white linen pocket square and, ya know, he didn't look half-bad.

That Sunday, Anthony was ensconced in the Academy Awards while his tuxedo was stuck in a drafty FedEx warehouse, longing for its destiny under the bright lights of Hollywood.

Anthony did receive the tuxedo that following Monday. I may have uttered a few curses aimed at a particular delivery company once I had received the word of its arrival.

For buying it blind, the fit was better than one could ask for. A few nips and tucks were required, according to Anthony.

The tuxedo did, finally, make its red carpet debut in January at the Golden Globes and will be there at the Oscars, one year fashionably late.