They never pay attention to the suits.
I mean, sure, they notice the fact that we're there, to the point where we've almost become a cliché, but we blend into the background. We're set dressings. We're armor and camouflage all at once. Some of us more than others. Not to toot my own horn, but I think I (well, and my siblings) qualify almost best of all.
Because when he sends us to be dry cleaned? Nobody has better stories.
After all, any suit can get sent in because some mud splashed up on a pant leg on a rainy day. Who gets sent for cleaning when they get covered in goo when their wearer shoots a magically grown praying mantis who's about to eat him? Needless to say, the numbers are drastically lower. All of the normal cubicle-dwellers' suits were in awe of me over that one. And that doesn't even count all the situations he manages to go through without getting so much as a spot on me. I couldn't ask for a more conscientious wearer, no matter what all those bankers' suits say.
Don't get me wrong, it's not like it's action and adventure all the time. There's plenty of office work he does in me too. Despite the sheer amount of paperwork he does, he manages to keep all of us ink stain free, too. Oh, believe me, I've heard some horror stories when I'm at the dry cleaners. Or even when I'm in the office. Some of my wearer's coworkers can be much messier. And he spends the night sleeping at his desk more often than he tells anyone. Probably more often than he tells himself. But he takes care of my cousins and me, so we take care of him. We do our very best not to rumple on those days. We know he wouldn't be too happy about it. The ties are in on that effort with us, although it's a bit harder for them. Silk, you know.
Even if nobody else pays attention to the suits, at least he does. We work well together, and we know it on both sides of the arrangement. Garment bags for travel, enough closet space to let us air out, helpful lint rollers... we watch out for him, so he watches out for us.
And then, once in a great while, validation. Someone will just stop and see for a moment. Occasionally it's the boss, once in a blue moon the stress-inducing billionaire, and scattered in, the archer. Among others. They'll look, they'll nod, sometimes they'll smile, and they'll just say two words. "Nice suit."
It'll hardly be noticeable but he'll straighten just a bit and he might even nod. Those are the best days.
It's good to be appreciated.