Now that we’ve seen all of Moon Knight — at least for now, as we wait to see if there will be more adventures in the MCU starring Oscar Isaac — Fandom reached out to clinical psychologist Dr. Drea Letamendi to give her expert analysis of the title character and the complexities he represents. Read on for what Dr. Drea observed!
Spoilers for the entirety of Moon Knight follow.
Marc Spector is a man who was given a second chance at life. A former Marine and mercenary, Marc has acquired exceptional skills in armed combat, martial arts, physical endurance, and lethal tactics. Proficient and disciplined, Marc was useful as a privately hired, morally flexible soldier accompanying archeologists on their globe-hopping missions to uncover ancient and valuable relics. Marc became an international fugitive when his partner went rogue and executed an entire dig team, save for Marc, who barely escaped. Wounded and left for dead, Marc dragged himself to an Egyptian temple, and turned his gun on himself. His attempt to speed up his inevitable death was interrupted by the voice of Khonshu, the Egyptian God of the Moon, who promised to give Marc his life back if he agreed to serve as an avatar and fulfill Khonshu’s duty to assassinate evildoers. It was an eerie but enticing contract for Marc, who was willing to be used as an instrument for justice. Perhaps being in service to a god that rights wrongs would bring him closer to healing.
When Marc embodies the divine powers of Khonshu, he becomes the superhero Moon Knight, an impressive fighter outfitted with white and gray armor and a light in the darkness that enemies will surely see coming. As Khonshu’s avatar, Marc accepts the physical and psychic infusion of the deity’s energy and will. As Moon Knight, Marc is part human, part god. As this being, he’s more powerful, more resilient, nearly indestructible. But underneath the wraps, Marc Spector is haunted by the horrors of his past, the abuse that he’s endured, and the evils that he’s committed.
Even when he’s not Moon Knight, Marc is hiding under metaphorical shrouds and bindings to cover his internal shame, sorrow, and self-hatred. He believes he is holding a deeply cloaked secret about his identity, and does not realize that Khonshu detected the discord within him from the very beginning. In that mysterious temple, Khonshu saw a vulnerability in Marc, knowing he could possess him, knowing that he could easily slip into Marc’s already fragile, fragmented mind. And whether Marc invented Khonshu to escape further into his madness, or if he really is being spirited away by an ancient religious figure, the story of Moon Knight isn’t really about split personalities but about the importance of broadening our consciousness just enough to appreciate the multiple facets that make us who we are.
The Three Faces of Steven
Steven Grant is a timid, introverted, and kindhearted man who works as a gift shop clerk at the National Art Gallery in London, England. He lives with his pet goldfish Gus in a cluttered city flat filled with stacks of archeology books. Though he believes himself to be a good-spirited and composed guy, Steven finds himself physically fatigued, disoriented, and confused by recent troubles. Steven suffers from what he thinks is a sleeping disorder. Disturbed by frequent memory lapses, vivid and violent nightmares, and chronic tiredness, the mild-mannered Brit grows more and more worried about his affliction.
Each night, Steven sleeps with a medical restraint strapped to his right ankle, in order to prevent himself from sleepwalking and wandering outside his flat. Several deadbolts and a strip of industrial tape secure his front door. And yet, despite his efforts to get a peaceful night’s rest, Steven often wakes up feeling like he “got hit by a bus.” Perplexed and exhausted, Steven pushes through his workday and then spends his nights making deliberate efforts to avoid the inevitable barrage of bizarre nightmares. He’s unaware that what is really happening is an extreme form of disassociation.
“I’ve had it under control until very recently.” – Marc Spector
In an effort to stay awake, Steven spends late evenings studying hieroglyphics and obsessing over books about tombs and burial grounds. Driven by a deep passion toward ancient Egyptian history, he’s acquired a breadth of knowledge surrounding the artifacts and collections in the museum’s galleries. His tired eyes light up when he talks to museum guests about how mummies are preserved, or how the Great Ennead, the super group of nine Egyptian gods, were once worshiped by devout peoples. However, as his boss tersely reminds him, Steven is merely a gift shop clerk, relegated to souvenir selling and counting inventory. Steven often feels invisible. His boss, Donna, is downright mean to him, and other staff at the museum can’t seem to remember his name. Because he cannot organize memories correctly, people find him odd, even offensive. He just doesn’t fit in. Even keeping a date becomes an impossible feat; he once fell asleep, lost two full days of consciousness, and consequently stood up a prospective connection. Steven is slowly becoming a shadow of a person, a hollow shell. His existence becomes a version of psychic disequilibrium, a phrase that refers to the dehumanizing experience of feeling unaffirmed in the world due to disconnection, detachment, and invalidation.
Typically, Steven wakes up feeling beaten and looking bruised, and in some instances, he wakes up several days later with no recollection of what occurred during that lost period of time. Called a fugue state, those hours include a loss of consciousness, identity, memory—and can even result in traveling far away from one’s home. Sometimes, a person actually “wakes up” during a fugue state, which happens to Steven when he ends up in a large field outside a quaint, Alpine village. He regains consciousness, realizing splitting pain all over his body. To his horror, he hears a deep-sounding voice inside his head say, “you’re not supposed to be here.”
Fully conscious and ambulatory in what feels like an anxiety dream, Steven encounters cult leader Arthur Harrow, who is performing rituals with the townspeople via a clairvoyant ability, and appears to be absorbing the life force from community members who “fail” his morality test. After a disorienting and harrowing escape, Steven ultimately wakes up in his flat, chained to his bed, bewildered but relieved to be out of danger.
Steven’s sleeping disorder rapidly develops into a major problem, negatively impacting his job, his social functioning, and his ability to experience joy. Though he tries to stay positive and to make sense of his disturbing episodes, he sinks deeper in his depression. Furthermore, his sleep deprivation causes him to feel irritable and antsy, worsening his paranoia and phobias. When Harrow tracks him to the museum and sets an undead jackal to attack him, Steven scrambles into the museum bathroom, only to discover that there is another person—Marc Spector—who is inhabiting his body. Marc speaks to Steven through the endless mirror, assuring him that they’ll survive if he, Marc, fully takes over.
Previously known as Multiple Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), is a rare and frequently misinterpreted mental health condition. A person with DID develops two or more distinct personalities called subpersonalities (or alternates, or alters), each with a unique set of memories, behaviors, thoughts, and emotions. Alters often exhibit dramatically different characteristics, and often have their own unique names, identifying features, abilities, and preferences. They can even differ in expressed age, gender identity, appearance, and nationality.
Marc Spector, for instance, is agile, athletic, and aggressive, while Steven Grant is nonviolent, timid, and conscientious. Marc holds expert knowledge about hand-to-hand combat, while Steven has the mind of a brilliant historian. Their appearance and mannerisms are also markedly different. Marc stands a little taller and makes direct eye contact, while Steven hunches slightly and comes off unassured. Alters even have different preferences or tastes in food—Steven is a vegan whereas Marc is decidedly not. Steven speaks French and Marc speaks Arabic. Steven discovers that Marc even has his own place to live away from the city flat, a small storage locker much like a makeshift barrack room with a cot and bags of weapons, money, and passports. And much like the places Marc has visited, the traumas that Marc has lived through are not accessible by Steven’s mind.
When serving Khonshu, Marc is Moon Knight, arguably another alter, who has its own unique set of abilities, features, and, in this case, superpowers. Moon Knight wears the ceremonial armor from Khonshu’s temple and has extraordinary abilities though divine possession. His powers include superhuman strength, durability, speed, and stamina. Moon Knight is able to take flight by using his celestial cape, and can summon weapons such as crescent blades or truncheons. As Khonshu, Marc also has rapid regenerative healing and can recover from any physical wound (when he reverts to Marc or Steven after being injured, he’s still able to heal his serious wounds, just not as quickly).
Alas, after all identities—Steven, Marc, but mostly Moon Knight—best the beast in the museum, it’s Steven who is left with the consequences. Due to the apparent vandalism that took place overnight and only Steven appearing on the security footage, Human Resources terminates him, asking him to hand over everything he possesses that belongs to the Gallery, including his name tag. As he hands over the symbol of both purpose and identity, Steven is ruined. In a matter of hours, his sense of self is dissolving, his mind is cracked open. And it’s starting to get crowded.
Man in the Mirror
Despite its name, DID isn’t considered a personality disorder; rather, it’s a neuropsychiatric illness marked by major problems with memory. DID is a serious disruption in the integrated functions of consciousness, identity, and perception, which ultimately leads a person to feel like they’re having a break from reality. Steven’s first bouts of DID exemplify the experience of losing control of one’s mental processes. To his horror, he notices disfigured reflections of himself, sees shadows of figures that are not really there, hears disembodied voices, and experiences other strange sensory disturbances. On average, it can take up to 10 years in counseling for a person to get the correct diagnosis of DID due to the complexity of the disorder.
“It’s maddening, isn’t it? The voice in your head.” – Arthur Harrow
With DID, at any given time, one of the subpersonalities can take center stage in consciousness. Marc Spector is considered the “primary” personality because he has surfaced for years at a time, more often than any other alter, and attempts to control or influence the other alters. He is also more successful in conjuring Khonshu’s spirit and becoming Moon Knight. Though, over time, Steven also learns to summon the suit to transform into Mr. Knight, a dapper version of the superhero.
The transition from one personality to the other is called switching. Usually sudden and rapid, switching can be triggered by a stressful event, and in rare cases, when someone else is able to influence the person to switch such as a therapist or family member. Marc, who is more assertive and dominating, can convince his mild-mannered alter Steven to let him take over their body, especially in times of intense emotions, such as being chased by a demon-dog in the museum loo. And neither Marc nor Steven are yet aware of a third alter hidden deeper in their consciousness, Jake Lockley, whose appearances are rare but reckless and violent.
“Let me save us,” – Marc Spector to Steven Grant
In one-way amnesic relationships, some subs are aware of the others, but the awareness is not mutual. This was the case for a period of time between Marc and Steven. Marc not only knows about Steven but is always present when Steven’s alter is at the surface. Those who are aware of other alters are called co-conscious personalities, as they are quiet observers. Marc can see and hear what Steven is doing, and has rarely interacted with him. When Steven begins to wake up during his fugues (i.e., when Marc is in charge), Marc begins to send Steven overt warnings, making himself known through indirect means such as hallucinations (a voice or a reflection giving commands), and sometimes will outright take control of Steven’s body. For instance, when Steven is escaping Harrow and his cult followers, he jumps into a bakery van, and is surprised that he’s able to maneuver the vehicle as he’s never had a license. Sometimes abilities and skills can be shared when co-conscious personalities emerge. As Steven gains more knowledge of both Marc and Moon Knight’s existence, Marc allows him a fuller awareness of their situation, including his service to Khonshu.
Embodying New Realities as a Post-traumatic Response
Childhood trauma is nearly always a contributing factor to DID. When Marc was an adolescent, he and his younger brother Randall re-enacted scenes of Tomb Buster, a Raiders of the Lost Ark type adventure film starring a dignified archeologist named Dr. Steven Grant. The boys often played together with this movie as their imaginary backdrop, and one evening their games led them to explore a cave. As Marc was the older sibling, his mother, Wendy, warned him to look after his brother. While they were in the cave, a rainstorm hit without warning. The cave rapidly flooded with rainwater, trapping the children. Marc tried to help his little brother escape, but was only able to save himself. Thereafter, Marc’s mother held spiteful, harsh feelings of blame toward Marc, even telling him that he killed Randall.
For years, Marc’s mother descended into an untreated grief, drinking heavily and mistreating her only surviving son while his father tried to keep the peace. Their attachment became strained, and his mother either approached Marc with anger and blame, or avoided him altogether. The loss of his brother combined with the emotional desertion of his mother led to deeply felt self-hatred and guilt. On his twelfth birthday, Marc’s mother escalated, throwing accusations at him and threatening violence. Frightened more than ever, Marc ran to his room and shut the door. Anticipating the abuse he would be facing, Marc invented a different personality to take over his body. In order to distract himself from overwhelming fear, Marc transformed into a character he knew well, Dr. Steven Grant. In this brief fantasy, he was able to avert the harsh and scary feelings brought on by his abuser. When his mother entered his room, Marc immediately transformed back, preserving Steven as the part of himself, the identity, who would be shielded from her abuse and the otherwise relentless feelings of shame.
Trauma has a way of numbing people to their feelings, and in cases of prolonged or repeated trauma, it can become hard to construct a coherent sense of the self. Over time, the disorganized and incoherent self no longer seems to create a meaningful whole, and the bits and pieces become fragmented selves in order to make sense of the world. Young Marc was reacting to the harm introduced in his household, and naturally, he tried different coping responses until something worked to alleviate the pain. Trial-and-error with his sensory system resulted in a discovery: hiding the self beneath an imagined persona can successfully erase traumatic stress. Since Marc has admired Steven Grant for most of his childhood, he felt he knew and trusted him. Steven Grant, after all, was the responsible and mature adult, kind, compassionate, and heroic. Disappearing into Steven was young Marc’s escape, his safety, his protection.
Marc found that playing a stranger’s role, embodying a whole new person, allowed him to feel different in his body. However bold or bonkers it may sound to invent an identity, trauma often makes people feel so uncomfortable with themselves that they ask how things could be, and, in rare cases, the answer is a new archetype. In fact, switching to Steven may have muted or faded the anguish inside of him but also the physiological sensations of panic and fear, such as rapid heartbeat, cold sweats, hyperventilation, and rapid or racing thoughts. Being Steven Grant also allowed Marc to experience the sensations needed to overcome his hardships, such as feeling powerful, mature, proud, and even loved. This conditioning can help explain and even demystify DID; if feelings of comfort and calm result from switching, the more switching will occur.
How does a child learn to dissociate? DID can develop this early in childhood, especially among children who are seeking refuge from physical, sexual, or verbal abuse. When overwhelmed by intense emotions, they manage to escape their threatening world by encountering a form of “self-hypnosis,” which is the acquired ability to mentally separate themselves from their bodies and switch to a different persona. This self-hypnosis is like an extreme form of fantasizing, an extraordinary level of imagination that is akin to putting oneself in a trance.
In Steven’s reality, his mother is alive and well. Their relationship is secure and healthy. In fact, Steven calls her daily, leaving friendly and detailed messages on her voicemail. His mother’s voicemail and the street performer are the only two people he’s able to confide in, two people who do not talk at all. Steven’s experience of a one-sided life leads to further confabulations (or honest lies), such as inventing memories and filling in gaps in order to connect living thought to reality.
Body Horror
A common fear highlighted by Moon Knight is the degeneration or destruction of the self. Our connection to a cohesive story of ourselves is what ensures our rationality, our mental harmony, our sanity. Signs of decay or mental breakdown is naturally met with denial, alarm, and even terror. So, when Marc and Moon Knight begin to surface more predominantly in Steven’s psyche, signaling the deterioration of his mental state, Steven panics. He’s frightened by an unfamiliar reality, by seeing his alters in the mirror, or hearing their murmurs in his head. We are taught that sanity is having control of our minds, and the sensation of losing the ability to organize our own thoughts or access our own memories can be terrifying.
Steven begins to experience mental depersonalization, which often happens in extremely traumatic moments such as witnessing or experiencing first-hand severe abuse, violence, or physical violations. Depersonalization is the feeling of being removed or outside of our own. The sensations can be numbing, disorienting, and generally unreal. Assault survivors may share that they felt they were “floating” above their body during the attack; others say they felt they were sinking in a deeper place in their consciousness or back of their mind, witnessing or watching the event as if in a dark abyss.
Possession or occupation of our bodies is also a deeply felt, shared phobia (and thus used relentlessly as tropes in horror films and television) wherein bodies are consumed or replaced by zombies, evil spirits, A.I., aliens, or body snatchers. The loss of body autonomy introduces intense helplessness and restraint, as driven by the intrusive and violating repulsion that it’s some external force taking over. These themes also symbolize and are used to exaggerate psychotic disorders, often horrorized in cinema and T.V., such as the onset of hallucinations and delusions. Moon Knight’s use of mirrors, reflective surfaces, pools of water, and moving shadows to depict subpersonalities builds the eerie and unstable sensation of psychosis.
“Is this what it’s like, being on the inside? …It’s horrible.” – Steven Grant to Marc Spector
As Steven continues to unpack and uncover Marc’s secrets, he meets Layla El-Faouly, Marc’s estranged wife. Layla is trusted enough to meet Marc’s alters, but the “struggle” over his physical body intensifies. In Cairo, Marc is shot in the chest by Harrow. His body near death, Marc slips into an altered consciousness.
Unsure if any of it is real, Marc wakes up in a medical facility where he’s being treated by a psychiatrist, “Dr. Arthur Harrow.” The doctor explains that all of Marc’s problems can be explained as a result of a serious psychotic mental disorder. But Marc notices objects and details in Dr. Harrow’s office that are too similar to his memories to be coincidences—recognizable replicas, canopic jars, paintings—could these memory markers reveal that he may be suffering from vivid delusions, and that he’s been in a hospital receiving treatment, not in Cairo after all? Or is his psyche trying to tell him something?
Over-sanitized and distorted, the facility feels imagined, and Marc begins to suspect he is under some kind of mind control. He escapes Dr. Harrow’s office only to run into a physical manifestation of his alter: Steven Grant. Bewildered, they encounter a bipedal, anthropomorphic hippopotamus, the goddess Taweret. To assess their worthiness for the afterlife, Taweret places Marc and Steven’s separate hearts on the Scales of Justice to assess their worthiness. The scales, however, fluctuate wildly, signaling that the hearts are unstable and unreconciled.
“It’s the hearts. They’re not full.” – Taweret
Taweret directs the pair to “balance their scales” and Marc and Steven return to the psych unit, discovering that behind each door is a representation of a pivotal memory in Marc’s history, including the events surrounding Randall’s death, the slaying of multiple people, and becoming Moon Knight. As Steven expands his sense of their shared identity, he begins to realize a destructive pattern in Marc’s life.
High Conflict Personalities
About one in ten people are prone to destructive patterns. These high conflict people (or HCPs) tend to have poor interpersonal skills and often end up creating havoc and disruption within every relationship. High conflict is a description of a predominant set of behaviors, not a diagnosis. HCPs often blame others and take little responsibility for their mistakes or faults. For instance, when Steven confronts Marc about the people he’s killed as Khonshu’s avatar, Marc denies, obfuscates, and argues back. He’s unwilling to take responsibility for his part in the violence, even justifying his actions as heroic and in protection of Layla.
HCPs also tend to think in all-or-nothing terms, seeing situations and people as all good or all bad. They jump to conclusions when they feel wronged. Though he was deeply wounded by his mother’s neglect and harsh rejection of him, Marc was unable to mend the relationship with his father, and refused to attend his mother’s funeral. In times of reconciliation and forgiveness, HCPs revert to blame. When the gods in the Pyramid of Giza interrogate Marc to find out if Khonshu is exploiting him (and resurrecting feelings of past abuse), Marc explodes, deflecting the question and pointing to Harrow as the villain.
HCPs also tend to have unmanaged and intense emotions, and will suddenly blast their partners with intense rage over minor problems. Sometimes these patterns coexist with extreme behaviors such as threats and physical assault. When challenged, Marc resorts to violence easily, and even though Steven is a part of him, he will verbally punish, intimidate, and bully him. Once, when Steven was speaking as a co-conscious alter through a reflective window, Marc became so enraged that he repeatedly kicked the glass until it shattered, destroying the reflection and abruptly ending the conversation.
“You ruin people’s lives. Everything you touch you ruin.” – Steven Grant, confronting Marc Spector
Layla too feels abandoned and shut out by Marc, who kept secrets from her. Though she may have tried to reason with him, he created walls between them and instigated conflicts in order to retain control of himself (and his alters). One type of HCP, the antisocial type, fears being dominated usually due to feeling belittled, wronged, or degraded during their upbringing. Thus, when they are in threatened mode, they feel they need to dominate or control others. They feel like the conflict is external, but it is truly originating in their own internal stress. And this comes with lying, deceiving, and neglecting the needs of others. Marc was able to discover a justifiable outlet for his merciless killing, first as a mercenary, then as Khonshu’s avatar. Seeing the dozens of slain bodies in a single room in the Duat, Steven is taken aback at the amount of violence Marc—and therefore he—is capable of.
“I know that you enjoy the work I have for you. We need each other.” – Khonshu to Marc Spector
Balancing the Scales: How to Treat Dissociative Disorders
As Steven begins to integrate Marc’s memories into his own consciousness, a painstaking and emotional process, he learns about his own origins. He understands that he was created as a safe place for Marc to escape to, but also begins to question his own permanence. Who is he?
As Dr. Harrow had warned Marc, Steven is not real, and neither is Moon Knight. “Your mind is violently vacillating between sense and nonsense,” the doctor explains. “Your mind is a pendulum, swinging between a very difficult reality that you are my patient at Putnam Medical Facility in Illinois, Chicago, and a reassuring fantasy that you’ve created on your own, that you’re some kind of superhero.” The logic is evidenced by the artifacts and visages in the mental facility, which could easily be influencing Marc’s vivid delusions of multiple identities. Dr. Harrow explains further that Marc created Steven to hide all “the awful things” he’s done in his life, which absolutely includes the accidental killing of his brother.
“I’m just something that you made up.” – Steven Grant to Marc Spector
The first step of treating DID is to help the person recognize fully the nature of their disorder. In this case, Dr. Harrow, a seemingly patient and thoughtful psychiatrist, attempts to show Marc that he is experiencing a mental health disorder manifesting as invented identities that allow him to reconcile wrongs by becoming heroic, purposeful, and redeeming. A difficult step in treatment is creating a coherent and singular sense of self as a result of integrating all of one’s alters. It happens to be the goddess Taweret who serves as Marc’s empathetic counselor by welcoming his pasts and parts, but insisting he recollect everything in his past to achieve full self-actualization. Similarly, therapy for DID includes helping the patient recovering gaps in their memory, offering comfort and understanding of traumatic responses, and enabling the integration all the subpersonalities into one functional personhood that is whole.
During therapy, some subpersonalities conceal or disguise memories, usually to protect other alters from experiencing painful emotions. Recovering missing memories can be difficult, which is why Marc makes efforts to keep Steven from encountering some of his most shameful moments. When Steven encounters his destructive past, he will feel disturbed, angry, even disgusted by Marc, and while those reactions are hard for Marc to tolerate, approaching—not avoiding—those reactions will help Marc explore the feelings he’s hidden. Being with others during memory recollection allows us not only to feel less alone but helps us to see that we can indeed face our damaged selves. We do not heal on an individual basis—healing requires a social component. As they explore their hidden memories, Marc and Steven share stories with each other and begin to understand one another’s perspectives, a fusing of their worldviews. This is called common realities, or shared realities, how we use language, communication, and community to bridge collective healing.
For DID therapy to be successful, each sub must “own” all of the person’s behaviors, emotions, sensations, and memories. Steven notices, for instance, that he has the capacity to fight for his life and can actually access internal confidence, agility, and strength. In turn, Marc realizes he can be more like Steven and grow more compassionate and caring toward others. Fusion is the final merging of two or more subpersonalities which usually results in the extinction, endpoint, or “death” of secondary personas.
Internal Gods and Monsters
Dissociative phenomena are found across the majority of the world’s population and documented throughout history. In fact, the word Cacodemonomania is used when a person believes an anthropomorphic entity has inhabited their body, and in some cultures, these spiritual experiences are not seen as needing to be treated or “cured.” Early explorers, too, noted that spirit possession was deemed common among marginalized members of society and often served as a mechanism to channel and deal with social discontent.
“I am large. I contain multitudes.” – Walt Whitman
Moon Knight as a character, a man split into multiple identities, works better as symbology than a psychiatric case study. We’ve been taught to believe we have one single identity, but each of us contains a set of characters, or families, existing inside of the psyche. When difficult things happen to us, our internal selves create ways to be in such a world, and we transform and re-transform as often as we take a breath. Within us, we have a rageful mercenary, a comforting bibliophile, an unwavering superhero. We are more than a single entity. We are protectors, watchers, controllers, destroyers, collaborators, exiles, and survivors.
In No Bad Parts, therapist Dr. Richard Schwartz emphasizes that we are always in context with our environment, other people, and lived events, and therefore will experience the self as endless and in flux. Our parts can sometimes be disruptive or harmful, but they may serve to protect our more vulnerable selves. Because our identities contain multiple parts, our friends and relatives will experience some, but not all, parts of us, and there are times when we even do not recognize who we are at all. When we ask ourselves, “Why was I thinking that” or “Where did that idea come from?” we’re reminded that we are built with millions of experiences of the self. In turn, we should ask ourselves, what does that person need?
Steven Grant needs purpose, Marc Spector needs comfort–and what Jake Lockley needs is still yet to be revealed! The key to a restoring wholeness isn’t necessarily to corral, control, or shroud parts of ourselves that bring fear or shame, but to accept and honor each and every inner voice so that they all get a chance at wearing the suit.
