On Blazers

The shocking truth was bound to come out sooner or later. That is, I do not own a navy blazer. In fact I do not own a blazer of any kind. I sent the last one away a month or so ago. The prep underground is quivering with the news, I am sure.

This is crucial. Having practically grown up in navy blazers, as you well know, I have come to detest them and have not worn one in years. Frumpy and undaring, adopted by every pimple-faced prepster from here to Halifax, the blazer is the safe, comfortable choice for unimaginative men everywhere. It screams overgrown schoolboy, aspiring pompous prep, and suburban mall security guard. Can you feel it?

Navy blazers! I once owned four of the damned things. One from Brooks Brothers, a 2-button model, and the next two from Southwick, one with a coveted 3/2-roll as I discovered later. The last was a beloved 2-button Burberry number, lightweight and side-vented, acquired in my early 20s, and worn to smart events round Greenwich and Manhattan.

But no more. Upon sad reflection I seem to discard clothing items with the same velocity with which I get rid of wife, mistress, girlfriend, and household pet, but that is a subject for another column. A navy blazer, despite what they say, is a strictly optional item. Like a dress shirt, it is disposable. Still, the ramifications of choosing to wear one require precise consideration.

Life, as we all know, is just one long photo opportunity. So think before you wear. Do you really want to be mistaken for a security guard? Or, worse, a lawyer? Do you really want to be caught dead in a car wreck on Pacific Coast Highway wearing a department store blazer? Think of what your chums would say. I certainly do.

It is time for you to come clean. Do you own a navy blazer? And if so, why?