The further west we travel on the One Nation Under Fred tour, the more casually-dressed the audiences—which I have been using as a reason not to wear a suit for every talk. But now I have no choice. During our off day in Santa Fe, I sent my suit and all my shirts out to be cleaned. Before picking them up, I got the call you never want to get from your Martinizer: “Mr. Fried,” the woman said, tentatively, “there’s been an incident with your pants.” Turns out some machine destroyed my suit pants, so it’ll be jeans and a suit-jacket-turned-blazer from now on. Diane claims I am always looking for any excuse not to wear a suit. Even she has to admit this is a pretty good one.

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