Long, long ago your correspondent dreamed of an ideal rootless world of a jetsetting lifestyle, ideal for the shock troops of capitalism among whom he daydreamed himself to be, without realizing that they, too, are just more cannon fodder swarming out of trenches for our overlords.
As if there weren’t enough evidence of the continued decline of English taste and sensibility, I have managed to secure an invitation to tonight’s Savile Row event at the British embassy. Perhaps the dress code at such an event should be an unspoken understanding, but the organizers left nothing to chance and demanded “cocktail attire.”
Anietra Hamper thought that if she bought a clothing item specifically for her job as a TV news anchor, then she should be able to deduct it from her taxes. So she kept meticulous records of the $20,000+ dollars she spent every year on business clothing, which included conservative suits, as well as bikinis and thong underwear (part of a well-rounded business wardrobe). If a baseball player can deduct his uniform, she reasoned, why can’t she deduct hers?
Change of season is the perfect excuse for those of us interested in such things to vary our methods of self-indulgence. Fall is when iGents crow with relief at being able to break out their patterned tweed jackets, intricately knit sweaters, and flannel trousers. And winter, whether in Rockridge or Reykjavik, provides the excuse to open this year’s crop of cashmere socks.
At some point in your life as a grownup, you will purchase pants that come with an unfinished hem. They will probably sit in your closet unworn, for a couple of weeks at least, as you forget to bring them to the alterations tailor day after day.
Long ago when I first began writing on #steez, I began one essay urging readers to stop me if I got too wrapped up in the needless fetishization of possessions. Today, I stage my own intervention, albeit a small one, in preparing to get rid of this beautiful, luxurious, quite functional and completely useless antique flask.