05 August 2010
As a columnist I often receive e-mailed requests to post pictures of my summer kit. I tend to hesitate due to privacy concerns, as you can understand, but an occasional glimpse behind the madras curtain should cause no harm. The photograph (at left) represents a typical outfit. The shirt is Lacoste and the boat shoes Sperry Topsiders. The shoes, a gift from a now-departed lady friend, like me, have a dark sole. The shorts, in lobster seersucker, are a special acquisition from J.Crew. In the era of t-shirts, denyme trousers, and flop-flips, summer kit is a provocative uniform, I realise, but I am well-prepared to defend the gesture. Try me. Should you spot me at a local beach margarita shop holding court with my chums, come over and say hello. I will buy you a cocktail, compliment you on your smashing tan, and inquire after your family. I promise not to talk about the stock market. Can you feel the magic? Do not be anxious if at the end of the evening we find ourselves growing closer. The lobsters don't bite, usually.