John Gotti is going out in style.
The mythic mobster (left) will be buried tomorrow in a double-breasted, black pinstriped suit, much like the stylish duds that won him his Dapper Don moniker.
The moment dry cleaner Tony DiFede touched the suit, he knew it was something special – 100 percent wool and custom-tailored.
“It was no cheap suit,” he said. ” It was all hand sewn, real nice. It had a modern, double-breasted cut to it.”
DiFede owns Tony’s European Cleaners in Maspeth, Queens, which is just around the corner from the Papavero Funeral Home, where two days of wakes for Gotti are being held.
As a result, he was chosen to clean the suit and two other items Gotti will be buried in – a crisp white shirt and a black silk tie with subtle threads of red and blue.
DiFede, who emigrated from Sicily in 1966, said he knew from the start the suit belonged to an important man who lived in style.
But he took the Fifth when asked about John Gotti, the mobster.
“I don’t know nothing about this,” he said.
Gotti will be buried tomorrow at St. John’s Cemetery in Middle Village following wakes yesterday and today at the funeral home.
Hundreds of mourners paid their respects yesterday to the mob star, whose closed bronze coffin sat in the front of the chapel.
Flanking the coffin were a pair of candles flickering behind red glass. A collection of family pictures was on a table nearby and on a glass coffee table stood a framed photo of a tanned, smiling Gotti.
The room was filled with dozens of mammoth wreaths, many made of red-and-white carnations. One was made to look like a royal flush poker hand.
“To the chief,” read a card on another wreath.
Among the first to arrive were Gotti’s brother, Richard, and his nephew, also named Richard. Both wore black suits, white shirts and silver gray ties.
Other mourners included beefy capos who helped Gotti run the crime family and members of the crew of his son, John A. (Junior) Gotti.
Outside the funeral home, there was a green Chevrolet van filled with state Organized Crime Task Force detectives who photographed the mourners.
And there were hundreds of residents of the working-class neighborhood, some of whom openly admired Gotti.
“I love him. He’s Italian,” said Vanessa Lanza, 21. “He helped poor people, he gave money to charities and the church. He was just a legend in my home.”
The mobster once had a social club around the corner and Patrice Nohilly remembered a stylish Gotti coming into her father’s deli for coffee.
“I was 15 years-old and I remember when they all walked in,” she said. “All the old ladies were in awe saying, ‘What a beautifully dressed man.’ And I am thinking to myself that this guy is a murderer.”