In his memorable essay “The Secret Vice,” Tom Wolfe writes:
one day in December, 1960 . . . Lyndon Johnson, the salt of the good earth of Austin, Texas, turned up on Savile Row in London, England, and walked into the firm of Carr, Son & Woor. He said he wanted six suits, and the instructions he gave were: “I want to look like a British diplomat.” Lyndon Johnson! Like a British diplomat! You can look it up.
Note well: Never ask your tailor to make you look like a Libyan diplomat, or else you’ll get the shiniest suit known to man. Apparently, what happens in Vegas does not stay in Vegas, sartorially speaking.