SARTORIAL SELF-PORTRAIT

SARTORIAL SELF-PORTRAIT Even as a young man, I dressed just like my dad. ‘Clothes are what defines you,’ Was a saying my mother had. But now I’ve retired from the city, Perhaps it’s time to break free. So I’m looking through my wardrobe To find out what defines me. Here’s a row of pin-striped suits, Three-piece, in the main. With waistcoats with a pocket, For a watch on the end of a chain. And now the shirts, all white of course, With collars that detach. Long sleeves with fancy cuff links And a smart tie pin to match. There’s a lingering smell of moth balls As I move along the rails. Especially in the section Where I keep my top hat and tails. Even at home I wear a tie, Though, to help me to relax, I have a long-sleeved cardigan And a pair of well-cut slacks. But, right at the end, in a cover, To make sure it doesn’t fade, A memory of a brief interlude, When I wasn’t quite so staid. A reminder of my salad days, When I lived life with a passion. I’ve kept those flares for fifty years, In case they come back in fashion.