A Sartorial Disaster

It has been a while since I last stirred myself from my excessive langour and put pen to to paper for this journal. However, a most concerning development has occurred amongst some of my closest chums and I feel duty bound to warn the populace against following their most disturbing lead.

It all started when that most gullible of chaps, Major Steward, moved to Bath and began indulging himself in little whimsies. Now that he is a country gentleman he has become rather lax and he feels that he is able to wear clothes that are most unbecoming of a gentleman.

The particular attire that he has taken to wearing is something imported from our errant colonial cousins across the pond, and it is called a Lumberjack Shirt. I had never heard of such drapery before. The most shocking thing about this “shirt”, is that it is nigh on impossible to wear a cravat.

To me, a man without a cravat to add a soupcon of style and élan to his attire, is a man who has lost his love of life. A cravat worn at a jaunty angle, shows those beneath him in society, and those who are his equal, just the type of chap he is. A man without a cravat, however, lends himself to inciting all sorts of revolutionary fervour.

If such behaviour was not enough, I have yet more disturbing news. It is that Lord and Lady Piles Collarbone are now following his lead, purchased said “shirt” and intend to wear it on our next evening together. The mind recoils with horror at such wanton abandon of all societal norms. Does this mean that I shall be the only chap wearing a cravat? Does it mean that Lady Collarbone will not be wearing a frock? The mind shudders. It feels like 1776 and 1789 all rolled into one.

So beware my readers, if you see such lemming like behaviour amongst your acquaintances, please inform me, and I shall raise the matter with the utmost urgency both in The House and with the local magistrate.

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