I remember my father's of oh so long ago. Damn, that it is gone. I still have his helmet or bomber hat or whatever you call it.
My husband arrived in my life with, among other attributes, a decrepit bomber jacket, somewhat shreded. He was essentially poor, parents thrifty for good reasons, but to the extreme, and he went to school full scholarship, so didn't have a lot of clothes. White socks for christmas for both boys. His father's education stopped at 4th grade, but he was well self educated, reader of history. It was the mother who was wacky.
My ex died and went to heaven meeting me, who liked his playwriting and opinions and eyes. Though I was making ordinary money myself as a lab tech (previous free college educations in the UC system back then, although I worked 30 or more hours a week) and, all this being later, spending most of it on our gallery/theater/abode.
I describe all that to say we went to a friend of mine's wedding, and sat in the back. It wasn't me who was embarrassed.
Later in life, he became quite the sartorialist.
You can tell I'm not sorry for any of that.