Does it really make any odds what men wear, whether they are sexual or shapeless, glossy or plain? In the end, isn’t it a sign of direst decadence that men should even think of such things, let alone write books on them?

On those terms, the answer must be dismissive; no, it doesn’t matter in the least; yes, it is ludicrous the way that the trend-besotted male has come to primp and preen himself; and yes, the fanatic following of fashion is amongst the most tedious disciplines possible.

But clothes exist on another level, beyond fashion. Even if they are trivial in themselves, they are not meaningless. More than any other area of taste, they are statements - complex expressions of self-image, of how one sees oneself and what one hopes for. However one dresses, it carries one’s own dreams of oneself and this applies just as much to dowdiness as peacockery.