The New Suit Has Left the Office

At 7:43 on a wet Thursday in Soho, a man in a charcoal double-breasted suit leans over a coffee bar and orders a flat white like he’s buying contraband. No tie, white ribbed vest beneath, loafers catching streetlight, rain stippling the shoulders. Ten years ago he’d have looked overdressed; five years ago he’d have looked nostalgic. Now he looks exactly on time. That is the trick of modern tailoring: it no longer asks permission from the office. The suit has slipped its old leash and wandered into dinner, dates, gallery openings, late trains and the sort of mornings that begin with sunglasses and end with whisky.