If not even bankers, the profession we suppose kept expensive custom tailors in business (because almost no other profession can still afford them), are wearing suits, then who is still wearing them? What will bankers wear instead? And what is to become of the suit?
Two children’s books come to mind when I think of Marie Kondo. Fitting, too, as ever since she’s become a sprightly, life-simplifying phenomenon, people on the internet have voiced fears that she would come for their books. We iGents, though, knew better. She (or her distaff converts) are coming for our #steez.
There’s a danger in our latter-day dandy syncretism: the rolling of anyone who dresses in flashy or anachronistic jackets and sportcoats into a loaf of the indigestible and incoherent. By its title, Dandysmesacknowledges various different types of dandies, and different conceptions of the dandy, all seen through the prism of Beau Brummell, the putative dandy zero.
Well, actually, the hat that insufferable pretentious know-it-all young men have made infamous is the trilby, a hat with a shorter crown than a fedora and, crucially, a much narrower brim. You know the type (of hat and of man) – possibly neckbearded, probably brings his own vinegar to brunches to force everyone to drink shrubs, so quick to mansplain: to volunteer his often unfounded knowledge of matters wide and far.
Goodbye old friend. One of my ancient, beloved vintage suits is no longer. Its jacket’s thick carved horn buttons will end up being treasured by someone who buys orphaned suit coats, because the last time I put this suit on, I discovered what seemed like a baseball-sized hole in the crotch of the trousers.