Young collegian, Hunter Hughes, awakens each morning not with the rumbling of hunger deep within, but with an abiding concern for his wardrobe and his continuing quest for sartorial excellence. He reviews the day that awaits him and debates with himself over the exact statements each of the day’s ensembles must make.
To begin the day, there is the breakfast crew to face. They anxiously await his arrival in the dining hall so that they may immediately set to work on his blended fruit shake and thee-egg omelet. When they deliver it to his table (why wait in line?), he will greet them in a freshly pressed Brooks Brothers shirt and a crisp pair of khakis. And, as always, his stunning smile!
Next up on his rounds, perhaps, there will be the opportunity to address the probing questions of his physics professor. Hmmm…this would seem to call for a pinstriped button-down, one of his older tweed jackets and, of course, corduroys – nothing new, just some worn, but comfortably tailored cords.
Ah, yes, and then there will be the Art and Sculpture class. This will call for his Carhartt jeans and a plaid shirt – tattered to just the point of fashion.
Once the rigors of the early day have receded, it will be time for something more sporting – athletic shorts of an exactly au courant length and snugness. And topped off with a T-shirt in just the right look-at-me color and appropriately stamped with phraseology that only his frat and the top 15% of the school will understand.
After demonstrating his physical prowess at the sport of the day, it will be time to shower and attire for another exercise in higher learning at the library. A casual pair of slacks, a not-so pressed tattersall shirt (you’d hate for others to presume you’d been there for less than hours), a sport jacket and, just maybe, a roguish cobalt scarf tossed carelessly around the neck. After all, it is getting to that part of the day when the ladies must come into one’s consideration (if, indeed, they are ever out).
Once he has spent his time examining many volumes of curious and forgotten lore, not to mention wandering every recess of the building researching the women and their fashion statements, it is time to dress for dinner.
Many choices need to be made. A jacket? A crew neck? A loosened tie? Sandals or boat shoes? Slacks? Shorts? Khaki or madras? Untucked shirt or no shirt at all? Decisions and more decisions. Thank goodness the day is winding down.
And after the early evening repast? It’s time to gather with one’s fraternity brothers. Almost without having to think at all, he is able to button up his white oxford cloth shirt, put on his gray flannel trousers, toss on a striped knit tie, slip into his Bass Weejuns, grab his blue blazer and take off.
Having enjoyed several hours of camaraderie, he heads back to his room, tosses his clothes on the floor, and heads out on a date (or does he have two dates tonight?) – de rigueur in ripped Levis and a torn T-shirt. Tomorrow he will continue his quest to conquer yet one more day with just the right fashion statements. Such is the life, the style, the legend of Hunter Hughes. The man who dresses properly. Of course.
Stay thirsty my friends.