The last few weeks have been very intense. Who knows when I last had a thought that wasn’t about that damn Fisher account? Today, however, the finishing line is in sight. No more 100-hour weeks. Just one more day of perfection, then I’ll be sipping Mai Tais on the beach.
Let’s focus on today. One day. London – New York, New York – London. Long live Concorde! Two important meetings with our two most important clients, on the only two continents that really matter. In the air, I have to trust the pilot. On the ground, it’s all about me and my tailor.
I vaguely recall waking in a cold sweat weeks ago and running to my tailor’s shop to commission a suit for my grand finale. Summer, two flights, a bad tendency towards perspiration – all challenges to be overcome. Thank the Lord for the worsteds from Dugdale Bros & Co.
Three-piece. RAF blue. Slate blue is slightly brighter than the more common navy, which really makes it a summer fabric. I’m going for classic but bold. These customers can smell fear. Don’t give them a chance. Two long side vents and deep flap pockets for convenience and comfort during my flights. A one-button with broad peak lapels to really draw attention to the six-pack I’ve been working on. Those peak lapels will really build up my chest and show off how incredibly athletic I’ve become. Show them who’s boss, even after six different time zones in six hours.
The tie is the easiest choice off all: silver, Hermès, obviously. Let’s show them some European elegance. The shirt is in a poplin from Thomas Mason. The suit has a touch of grey to it that harmonises beautifully with a pale pink shirt. Obviously, French cuffs are a must and I’ve opted for a Zee-Jerman-Tab collar. I am elegant and professional, but bold.
In the afternoon, it’s off to New York. Thankfully, the road to New York is paved with air-conditioned taxis and airports. The 280g/m fabric is the best travelling companion, as it can withstand any residual heat. Especially when, for example, half-way through my £8000 flight, I am filled with a nameless dread when the realisation hits of just how important this meeting truly is. Get some air. Take your jacket off. Catch your breath. Get your bearings. Of course, I’ve planned ahead. I’m still the best-dressed man in this ultrasonic demon, thanks, in part, to my single-breasted five-button waistcoat. The bottom button is left unbuttoned, rakishly. Even without my jacket, I’m elegant, yet bold.
Of course, everything went to plan. The return flight is the time to begin the relaxation and the consumption of libations. The crew is just wonderful. My behaviour was, I admit, though bold and elegant, somewhat nervous on the first flight. As soon as they see that my mood has improved, they come to the only reasonable conclusion: This man requires a bottle of 1990 Dom Pérignon. The time has come to kick back, throw my jacket off, and propose a toast to myself. As I sit sipping my fine vintage champagne, I notice just how comfortable my trousers are with their double pleats and turn-ups. The high rise allows for the perfect transition from trousers to waistcoat. Elegant, certainly. But also bold.
Finally, I arrive home. I’ve made it. I kick off the boldly elegant black Oxfords from my man in Frankfurt, Leonard Kahlcke. As I get ready for bed, I decide to keep my suit on. We deserve this night together. JoLo/DPFC