What ever happened to class? Folks of a certain age are bemoaning a dearth of decorum in our fast-casual world. You know: sweatpants at the airport, sweatshirts at the theater, the First Lady dancing on late night television. Young men don’t know how to tie a tie; young woman can’t wrangle pantyhose; dogs are shitting everywhere. That idea has even infected the very people it demeans. College students throw Gatsby party after Gatsby party, drinking gin fizzes while wistfully recalling an era they’ve never lived. It’s Instagram nostalgia, Gilded Age hemlines photographed through an iPhone lens.
Don’t judge these neo-dandies. Heck, every now and then, you might just want to join their ranks. To do that, you’ll need a million-breasted suit, some brylcreem, and this high-falutin’ Bobwhite bowtie from Ledbury. It is made, yes, from 40 hand-selected feathers plucked from chukar partridge and bobwhite quail—that is, so painfully aristocratic the only way to add fancy would be shooting the fowl yourself from a milk-white steed. To flush out your anachronistic collection of steamer trunks in diminishing sizes, the Bobwhite bowtie comes with its own tiny wooden travelling case.
In tandem, eschew Uber for a period ride like this 1927 Hispano-Suiza. Originally owned by Lolita Armour, of the Chicago meat-packing Armours, this H6B Chauffeur is pristine. The color scheme is a riot—nay, a murmuring, sorted gathering—of blues, from the deep navy leather in the driver’s compartment to the pale azure cloth in the passenger cabin. There is no price listed, and don’t you dare “call,” though you may “inquire.” If you can swing, swing, swing it, buy this elegant coach, drape your tuxedoed self atop the hood, and win the dapper-flapper and bootleg blotto corner of the internet.