You wear them, they don't wear you.  What could be more straightforward than that?  The moment I begin feeling self-conscious, I do something about it.  The aim is not to arrive at that point.

Russell Street came to this at a good, impressionable age.  I grew up hearing jazz and disliked it enormously (or was, at best, indifferent to it), but I kind of knew my father wore good quality clothes (aside from those nylon drip-dry shirts).  Certainly the clothes are innocent, but there's still a journey involved of marvellous complexity; and you have to care; and - maybe - you reach the conclusion there's no alternative and everything you wear will be a variation - nothing more - on what you've been wearing for so long.  It'll probably become less dressy to a degree, but that's all.

Mine's illegible, with a squiggly line beneath.  Make summat o' that!!

Elsewhere I have a signature line that is also a signature line:

"When we remember we are all mad,
the mysteries disappear
and life stands explained."
- Mark Twain, Notebook entry, 1898.

Over the years, delving into this madness, noting its peculiar particularity that is also in everyone, making it the most general of human traits.

And now living happily with this notion of all being mad and watching how everyone deals with it.

Perhaps a new appreciation of voyeurism? Perhaps.

But certainly not "Puck grown old," not for me, as Robin Goodfellow is timeless. Puck grown up is no longer Puck, no longer able to restore amends or make merry with the forest-wandering mortals.

Hmm, but since this is a clothing forum: navy blazers, university stripe shirts and watchbands. I seem mildly obsessed with those things now, much more so than then.