[J.Crew wool tuxedo jacket with satin lapels! + Alexander Wang pocket tee + Splendid drape cardigan + Missoni scarf as belt + J.Crew 3″ broken-in chino + vintage cross + my old $10 surf shop specs I’ve now decided are the best sunglasses I’ve ever owned + Shashi bracelets + YSL Arty Ovale ring.]
The Drones Club is strictly a men’s only club, and right ho—what with events like the Annual Fat Uncle’s contest and the Annual Darts Tournament. So because I could not acquire admittance to get a Buck’s Fizz or a Sidecar from McGarry, the bartender, I fiddled around outside in a wool tux blazer, patent leather tuxedo shoes, with a stock market bar glass full of rum and tonic, hoping to catch a glimpse of Monty Bodkin or Bertie himself. Maybe get invited in for a game of cards.
I love men’s wear-inspired looks. I’ve had this blazer for months and worn it once… because? I’m lazy? God am I glad I needed a dark-colored lightweight jacket for my morning commute yesterday—welcome to the front of the closet, love.
And, I have over 25 pairs of these boyish, preppy shorts, in varying colors and inseams—ridiculous. Relics of my past inclinations mentioned here, now resurrected with the defibrillator paddles known as Masculine/Feminine Tension. I’d been so inspired by how the always adorable Becca worked the aesthetic here and here. Easy, effortless, and bicycle commute-friendly. I’m sold.
I clinked my ice cubes around, kicked at the dirt, and sucked the rum out of my lime waiting for someone to invite me in. No such luck.
Who doesn’t want to be a drone? A member of the “idle rich”? Dapper clothes, endless days of no work, all play…
“After all, golf is only a game,” said Millicent. Women say these things without thinking. It does not mean that there is any kink in their character. They simply don’t realise what they’re saying.
[All references courtesy various works of fiction by P.G. Wodehouse.]