is just a matter of choice of styles.  Copy cat styling was never for me and I only seem to take membership at the most exclusive clubs in town.  After all who wants medicority and complacancy or some fake persona when being real is the real deal.

Having said all that, I am reminded of a story that may apply here.

There was a very exclusive London gentlemans' club that was vetting two potential new members.

One was of an ancient landed and monied family of minor nobility. Naturally he had attended all the right schools and knew all the right people.

The other was a self made man, possessed of good manners but of no lineage of note. He had only the equivalent of a high school education and was not remotely known in the rarified circles of the other proposed new member.

The first fellow was of the leisure class and old money.

The second was a man who by the dint of his own hard work, native intelligence, and insistence of quality made his money in manufacturing.

It would seem that the first man was a certainty for acceptance in this fine club. He had every good quality and the self assurance that borders on arrogance of his class. There is nothing like old money and old name, after all. He held the title of baronet.

The other fellow had been surprised at his nomination. He considered that to be sufficient honor for him. He had the confidence that comes of real accomplishment but pretended to be nothing more, but surely nothing less, that was his due. What he had was nothing, but the product of his own achievements. His only title was Mister.

I should mention here that the membership of this club was of a fixed number. A new member could be introduced only after the demise of an existing one. It could be years between opportunities.

The invitation to these two worthies had been for a day so that they could meet as many members as possible and be vetted. Now the day was drawing to a close. The meal had been cleared. They had retired to the library for drinks.

The steward approached with a cart full of decanters of the most exquisite crystal filled with brandies, cognacs, and ports of the most exalted vintages. There were also some offerings of simply high quality.

And there was tobacco, offered in fine humidors of exotic woods. In addition to gold banded Turkish cigarettes, There was a generous selection of the worlds very finest cigars.

Our young lordling perused the selections with care, and made two of his own. He chose a brandy laid down in the year of Napolean's coronation, and a cigar so rare it could not be bought at any price, only given as a gift by a member of the Royal House.

Our self-made fellow looked carefully over the selection and after a moment said, that if was all the same, he would be content with a glass of beer and his pipe.

You can imagine our lordling's exultation at this faux pas.

After a genteel interval the steward announced that the evenings activities were drawing to a close. He had in his hand the hat, stick, and coat of the baronet. To the baronet this was simply as it should be. He should be served first over the commoner.

Being eased into his coat by the steward, he accepted his stick and hat. With a bow and a flourish he bade all a good night and departed to his coach, confident that there was no contest.

The man of business then rose and thanked his hosts for a most enjoyable day and the finest evening he had ever had. He nodded and bade them all a very good night and turned to the waiting steward, and asked for his own things from the cloakroom.

And the steward asked if he would not prefer to sit and enjoy another beer.

Our fellow was surprised and remarked that the impression he had was that the evening was at a close.

To that the steward replied, "It is... for non-members, sir."

And thereupon the older members congratulated the newest one.

You see, the gentlemen of this most sought after club felt that a true worthy gentleman did not concern himself with putting on airs. If a pipe and a beer were the right thing for a man after dinner, then that is what he should have. Old vintages were not for everyone, and a true gentleman knew his palate and his preferences.

Besides no person of genuine quality would ever insult such a world-class brandy by smoking a cigar while imbibing it.

So gentlemen, I submit that that the footwear of your preference is the right thing for your own sartorial elegance.

I misspoke and apologize. I am putting that cigar back.

Charlie