When I started working on the Hill, many eons ago, I was deeply disturbed by something known as Seersucker Thursdays. It seemed that a group of staffers had gotten together and in a drunken haze, decided that on the fifth day of every week, they would come to work dressed like soda jerks on the lam from Pleasantville.
Despite its abundance on Capitol Hill and its keg full of preppy glory, I have never warmed to seersucker. But if you are going to wear it to work, you should at least wear it like a grown up with a professional job. In my opinion, the best way to accomplish this feat is to skip the full suit and break up the pieces.
I’m sure this post will generate comments from those of you who hope to buried in a seersucker suit, in a seersucker lined coffin, on a Seersucker Thursday. But please be aware, that while some of my best friends wear seersucker, you will NEVER, EVER convert me. Choose a life of stripes if you must, but leave me to my solids.