When I was a kid, my parents always insisted we dressed up for travel. Not to the extent that we were uncomfortable or impractical but there was a sense of festivity about getting ready for a trip.
As an adult I continue to feel like getting on a plane should see me at my something close to best, rather than my worst. Not only because it feels proper, but also because it helps if you want to have a shot at an elusive free upgrade, or extra service.
Picked up my mother at the airport today. And as I stood waiting for her observed the people around me. There’s something very special about the energy at an arrivals lounge and you can see that a lot of people have made an extra effort in getting ready; for themselves, for the trip, or for the person they are about to meet.
Last of the loafers and last of the Gucci. Pink suede with horsebit. Again a bargain from the basement outlet in London’s east end.