Men in white suits are a rare treat in Mayberry.
That doesn't stop me from owning several. My first is from the New Orleans bastion of high southern style Perlis. It's a screaming, first communion suit white, linen number. I feel like Boss Toad, moseying over to Galatoires for a leisurely late lunch, every time I don it.
The second is an only slightly toned down white linen number from Haspel.
When the Perlis suit arrived on our doorstep, after a trip to NOLA in spring '09, Mrs. T forcefully and verily swore she would always and everywhere make other plans if I showed up locally, ready to go, so dressed. She would forgive a lot of things but the white suit was a deal killer. Luckily, for the both of us, last summer never turned warm, and I hadn't an opportunity to see if she was bluffing. Mrs. T is a woman of her word.
Last week, hoping she had forgotten her threat, I rolled out the Haspel. It's not quite so white, and she didn't say a word. It helped that deep summer had arrived finally. Emboldened, I tried it out again this week, and received a number of compliments. Boss Toad is back.
I think she's coming around.
Toad
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