Or the South of France, perhaps aboard a yacht, watching the beads of perspiration on my rosé trickle down the glass. (Neither reverie is likely to come true anytime soon, as my vacation venues are currently entirely chosen to best suit the changing fancies of my 5-year-old son, but whatever …)
Such sartorial musings bring me to the discovery of on Savile Row. Allow me to elaborate with an example. A couple of years ago, I tried out a new tailor in London. I commissioned a suit in a heavy herringbone tweed, and the result was outstanding. So we did a linen one. Up till then I'd always thought there was little point having a linen jacket made, as I don't want the strictures that canvasing and padding can bring-and, of course, after a few wears it'll crease (elegantly so) to the extent where it won't look as clean as a regular bespoke jacket anyway. Certainly the ones I'd had up to then bore that out. But I was wrong.
