One's sartorial choices are deeply important. You don't need to tell us, and you definitely don't need to tell Iorek Byrnison from Phillip Pullman’s The Golden Compass.
Iorek is big, arguably Slavic, and has a serious chip on his shoulder about some armor he can no longer adorn that shoulder with. You can’t blame him, though — his brother did frame him for a crime and depose him.
Man, family sucks sometimes.
So when Iorek meets a little girl with a weird contraption and a tiny shapeshifting creature with a nervous disorder, he doesn’t worry so much that she’s small and frail and a disgusting human. He just cares that she can get him his armor and his revenge.
Oh, and that armor? It’s basically his best friend. People do suck, and armor doesn’t talk, or hog the bathroom, or make rude comments, or EXPECT THINGS. And it doesn’t frame you for a crime and steal your throne and all your subjects.
It is an extension of himself. The clothes do make the man, after all, even if that man is a polar bear and those clothes are mystical armor made of fancy iron that requires the gutting of an entire seal to clean and repair.
Iorek, we get it. We feel the same way about some of our favorite shoes. Just don’t get any of those seal guts on them.