I tend to categorize my wardrobe in tiers of punishability:
Clear skies illuminate polished toes and crisp pleats.
Autumn gusts breathe earth onto scuffed suede and rolled cuffs.
Monsoon-covered trees pelt frayed laces and rumpled collars.
Over time, it comes as no surprise that I’m most at home at the bottom rung.
Blame it on an upbringing of saran-wrapped remote controls and that new car smell, but we tend to obsess over keeping nice things, well, nice. So we dine on knick-knack plates in a room of fine china. We keep our best blazer in the closet until it’s the right kind of day.
Owning a tailored garment of the finest cloth lends a certain fastidiousness, from a statuesque posture at the bar, to navigated forkfuls at the dinner table. In moments like these, we mustn’t allow our clothes to wear us. By all means, maintain their dignity; shine, clean, and make them last. But to make them truly yours, don’t be afraid of getting them a little messy. Life is messy, you beautiful schlub.
Fair or foul weather is a great time to read a good book, make a good meal, wear your good clothes. As we see less blue skies this time of year, maybe a few raindrops will help break in the good stuff.
Choose your nice things wisely, and always wear them well.