April, darling, you may not want to read this blog post, especially the last two paragraphs.
Okay. So I went to Banana Republic tonight, and I bought a new navy blue pin-striped jacket and a button-up shirt. Even though I don't normally spend a lot of money on clothes, I will confess that I love wearing nice clothes. I fantasize about having that "look": nice suit and shirt, nice shoes, nice pants or jeans.
I don't think too many people know this secret of mine. It's not like I visit the dry cleaners too often. I hardly ever iron my clothes, and I tend to wear the same five shirts and the same brown jacket over and over again. It's sad. However, deep down, I want to look good. April might have come to this conclusion, considering the frequency of my question: "How do I look?" I linger a little too long in magazines that feature a section on men's fashion. Also, it's a rare day that you will find me wearing a t-shirt with an ironic or witty statement. Please.
The truth is out. Now, comes the real confession. I have figured out what I need in order to get published. I need a white suit. If I were to obtain one, my writing career would take off. Tom Wolfe. Ernest Hemingway. Mark Twain. Wes Anderson. John Lennon. They are one with the white suit. (A few articles on the mystique of the white suit: here and here) A white suit possesses magical creative properties.
If any local Dallas designer would like to be the proud provider of my white suit, I would happily post a banner link on the right margin for a full year. I will be your white-suited spokesperson. I will take good care of my suit, and I will wear it to every convention, signing, and other social event. Oh yes, it's happening. Spread the word.