Nostalgic TV and its positive effect on men’s fashion
YOU never forget your first suit. In my case, I’ll never be able to forget my first suit. It was horrific. Its memory is a grease-stain on my synapses. It wasn’t even a proper suit. It was a suit-and-brown-slacks Confirmation combo.
It was 1978 and corduroy Safari jackets were the height of fashion. Mine had lapels as wide as tractor tyres. It was made of cord as thick as a ship’s hawser and was virtually indestructible. There were eight pleated pockets, which were great for stashing my Confirmation money. I ‘made’ £11 in 50p coins and jingled like a bus conductor. In my head, I was the Bionic Man in that jacket. In reality, I looked like a small, badly-covered sofa.
