Sadly, in a society where style and elegance are strangers to the vast majority of folks as they stumble around in their Toms/Vans/Cons, ill-fitting hoodies adorned with crass sloganeering and jeans they may as well have just shat in, those who make the effort draw as much negative attention as positive. Adorn yourself with a brightly coloured pocket square and a good proportion of the slovenly dressed will want to burn you as a witch, fearing the unusual, the unknown, the different. Attire yourself in bright, block colouring and the Allsaints brigade (there are other colours than 'ink'? Really?) will assert your homosexuality to the world. 'He's wearing a salmon pink blazer. He's gotta be queer, right?'
But then you're stood in the queue at work and someone leans over to praise those beautiful tan brogues you meticulously polished the night before. And then at the supermarket, a stranger walks up to you and says you look great in that beautifully tailored navy suit, crisp white shirt, navy tie and white pocket square. And then on that night out in that new salmon pink blazer, someone sidles up to you at the bar and says, "I love that blazer. I really wish I could pull that off".
And those nice little comments, those appreciative glances carry you through the day past puzzled glances and sneers of derision from the eternally devoid of style and permanently lacking in good taste.
So, fuck the non-believers and wear those pocket squares, those tie bars, those bright green chinos with pride. Overdress at every opportunity and feel fucking fantastic about it.
Here endeth the sermon for today.