The Washington Post, March 20th, 1988
SUDDENLY, I STOPPED, LOOKED around and saw myself standing in the lobby of the Mayflower Hotel, holding a length of black silk in my hand, surrounded by men in bow ties. "You're begging," I told myself. "Go home. Give it up. This is not for you." It was a tough moment. I was late for a social event here in the Black Tie Capital of the World, late because I didn't have the slightest concept of how to turn this limp cloth into a snappy bow tie. Not long ago, when I caved in and bought this penguin suit, my brother had persuaded me that clip-ons were out of the question. Simply not done. He assur...
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