Manhattan, 18th October 1987. Okay, I do really need to get moving now. The doorman has already called up twice to let me know that the driver is waiting for me. A quick glance at my gold-plated alarm clock reveals that I’ve already slept through market opening in London. I need to at least make it downtown before market opening here. In reality, yesterday’s festivities may have been wild, but they were nowhere near wild enough to miss a seminal event at the world’s greatest casino. And yet, the third call does still rattle my brain. So, I get up quickly and call down to the driver to thank him for patience and promise him pecuniary compensation for his efforts.
Having finally found the pomade, I tear open my wardrobe. Today is not a day for experiments. Suit choice should be easy. Double-breasted, wide lapels, large flap pockets, a ticket pocket, two vents, two pleats on the trousers. Suspenders are a must; I simply will not leave the house without them.
Unfortunately, with a wardrobe like mine, this decision is harder than expected. Pin stripe? Rope stripe? Chalk stripe? Vertical stripes are a must, as my colleagues always say. As I live my life to the max, I opt for the sharpest stripes available. The pattern is so narrow and the stripes so thin that they really stand out. The double-breasted jacket just heightens the effect. Much as that big tailor in the sky has outdone himself with me, my tailor has outdone himself with this suit. The pattern matching is so beautiful that I have to wipe a tear from my eye. The fabric is a deep and radiant blue. It’s the perfect base for my favourite colour combination: navy, light-blue, and red.
As I arrive downstairs, I glide effortlessly into the company car that is thankfully still waiting for me. ‘The company car’s leather seats are all the company I need’, I think to myself with a laugh. After writing that one down to tell the boys later, I make a quick call to the stock exchange to let them know that I am running late. I am informed that my colleagues have also opted for a sleep-in this Monday morning. Not a one has arrived yet. Sitting in the car, enjoying my breakfast cigar, it feels like the calm before the storm. It’s all out war as soon as the door opens. But that’s what I live for. I’m a warrior. I’m a modern-day Julius Caesar. De Bello Wallico Street, I muttered to myself. I am on a roll this morning.
As the elevator doors open on the 38th floor, I throw off my camel coat before giving myself an approving ocular pat-down in the mirror. The fabric from Dugdale has a wonderful strength to it. Nothing can touch me when I’m wearing this.
I congratulate myself again on having chosen the perfect shirt to compliment my suit. The fabric is a light-blue, French blue, and white multi-stripe from Thomas Masons’s Regent-Line. To show that I mean business, I opted for a white semi-spread collar and white cuffs. I look amazing. Even my boss will have to take notice over lunch at Espace (I couldn’t get a table at Dorsia).
The red tie makes the whole outfit. Red and navy are a powerful combination. It’s a strong look, for a winner. And that’s the only thing that counts: winning. Given that the suit fabric is a worsted, I knew my look required some texture. That’s why I opted for a jacquard-pattern with woven polka dots for my tie. This also comes with the added bonus that I can wear another of my favourite combinations: polka dots and pin stripes.
My choice of footwear should come as a surprise to no one. I’m wearing a pair of black cap-toe Oxfords made by my man in Berlin, Korbinian Ludwig Hess. JoLo/DPFC/MM