‘Tis said that tweed only comes into its own when passed down to the next generation. Generally speaking, it’s worth hanging on to well-made, well-cut clothes, so long as there is someone on hand to wear them. The following example is a case in point. No longer doing quite the job for my father-in-law, this Aquascutum lovely has come my way, just as I was needing a new overcoat. Its splendidness is matched only by its having come freely my way, from one who was pleased as punch to see its life not only extended, but kept in the family to boot.
Oddly enough, I was wearing this coat on the plane back from Canada, and as I was disembarking in London, the purser (male) looked me up and down, sighed, and exclaimed, ‘Now that’s what I’m talking about! A proper Englishman!’ I was tempted to reply in German, but as always when this kind of thing happens, I offered humble thanks and went on my way, wondering what, precisely, makes me look so English. On this occasion, wearing an entirely Canadian coat built on the foundations of English sartorial heritage, I wondered how my father-in-law would have reacted to such a statement (he is ancestrally French, with a touch of Scandinavian; until now, the family has been unsullied by English blood). Sacrebleu!
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