Savile Row suits, suits that I shall probably never wear again. For two decades, as I edited GQ, I dressed like the man I needed to be, a pinstriped guy in shiny shoes and loud ties.Of course, at the weekend I dressed in jeans, trainers and polo shirts, looking like the kind of man my two daughters soon wanted nothing to do with.
Once, when we were on holiday in San Francisco and about to walk around the city looking at art galleries, they refused to walk with me, accusing me of looking like someone who worked in a photocopying shop.The thing is, while I didn’t necessarily disagree with them, I didn’t actually care.In the past 18 months, everything has changed, however, including the way we dress when we leave the house to go to work.
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