When I was back there in high school, learning Latin and Greek with the Jesuits, we lads were required to keep our hair trimmed so that it didn't hang over our ears like that of the invading British singing groups, and we were required to wear leather shoes and ties. The hair was always being contested, and sometimes Father Verhelli would hand you five bucks and say, "Don't come back until you have a haircut."

Sometimes we would wear turtleneck sweaters and the Jesuits would grab us by the neck and roll it down to make sure there was a tie under there—the Jesuits believe in the letter of the law. As for the ties, well, we'd often buy vintage monstrosities, sometimes combining them with inappropriate shirts to demonstrate our rebellion. Especially on Lumberjack Day, an impromptu special day held once a year and dedicated to looking unlike gentlemen, on which we would all wear flannel lumberjack shirts. Naturally, a day on which a school assembly was scheduled would be chosen as lumberjack day.

Then, round about senior year, my friend Dennis Cashman and I came upon a different strategy: clashing madras. Classic Indian madras was really big then, so we were able to display numerous variations of plaid overload. Our concept was to wear three or four different tartans—shirt, trousers, jacket, tie. Quite spectacular.

I thought of it the other day when I found a madras suit as separates on the first-floor Ralph Lauren boutique at Bergdorf's. Now I have a rather vocal plaid suit. Last Friday, the day the pants came back from the tailor, I got a new Jack Spade madras tie. The shirts are waiting in the closet. I am just waiting to pick a good Indian Lumberjack Day. I'll let you know.

Shirt by J.Press
Tie by Jack Spade
Jacket by Ralph Lauren
Mask drum by Chokwe tribe
Photo by Glenn O'Brien