Well Plaid
Red pants, white oxford, blue blazer, suntan. That’s the look my dad’s wearing in just about every snapshot I have found from his salad days living single and preppy in Georgetown. When pressed about it, he used to make vague references to a suspicious dry cleaning fire that left him with quite literally the clothes on his back. We should all be so lucky! Whether his slim wardrobe was a result of said fire or just a slim wallet, his ability to make do with nothing but a few high quality essentials has been a superb lesson in sartorial discipline. And it’s not a bad way to pass as a swell even when your bank account disagrees.
