Greetings from Palm Beach, Sydney, Australia. This weekend I attended the wedding of a friend and I chose, well, not really chose, I was more 'instructed' to wear a bow tie to match the dress of my girlfriend. I hid the red satin bow tie from her and tried to suggest something reddish but she shook her head. Then as we were moving everything around she spotted the red satin bow 'what's wrong with that one, that's perfect' she said. The game was up. It was of course perfect for the ensemble and in hindsight I don't know why I put up the fight. Maybe it was because I was concerned that eventually my outfits would be laid out for me like Oppenheimer's wife does for him. A man and his own clothes. It is our last refuge. You may take away my opinions, you may re-decorate my man-cave but please please let me choose my own clothes!!!
In the end I went for a panama hat, my new Graz octagonal sunglasses, a Le Noeud Papillon bone coloured suit, a Le Noeud Papillon Carlo Riva royal oxford shirt, cream Albert Thurston braces from A Suitable Wardrobe and a red satin Le Noeud Papillon bow tie and a pair of Berluti Warhols on my feet. This may be one of the last occasions when I can mention these things without writing 'she laid out for me a pair of slacks by.....".