The first whispers of autumn, an approaching birthday, a viewing with the GF of the Gwyneth Paltrow version of "Emma", and a delicious pilsener remind me of time's merciless pace and single-minded destination. A shirt's stay on this earth is even more limited. Only so many pressings may a French cuff weather until the fabric shrinks unevenly, leading to the acute--and, dare we admit our feelings, gentle reader? acutely painful--gap between edges, as seen here. (The yellowing you see is an artifact of the camera flash, by the way.) It is time for this shirt to experience its own rebirth on the opposite end of a Goodwill rack.
But spring will come, just as new shirts will come, perhaps from Charles Tyrwhitt this time. They have a "$40 per shirt" deal for new customers. Or will I sign up for a fitting with Joe Hemrajani? We shall see. Perhaps the crickets have the answer.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment
Questions, comments, and style ideas welcome, provided they are expressed respectfully.