
Clearly, I was not on the a-list for invites to the ceremony, but a certain dignitary’s salacious gallivanting with a so-called model from Caracas had rendered him bedridden for the next few days, and that is how I got bumped up the list. With such a lackadaisical manner of invitation (the telegram said: “Alright, I guess I can squeeze you in.. I think.. xx”), I thought it befitting to show up at Westminster Abbey in something equally relaxed and ambiguously formal:

I couldn’t be that irreverent though, and I shall nix the beret to wear my hair slicked back clean like this:

Option two, if I was feeling a little more respectful, would be this semi-relaxed double-breasted navy suit from Hermes Fall 2010, which I plan on wearing with a nude tank top to evoke the illusion of shirtlessness:

Now for the reception, I would have to throw all subtlety out the window; the last thing I’d want to happen is to be out-glitzed by the invited royals. These looks from Haider Ackermann’s sole menswear collection could shame many a tsar or sultan:

I’m almost positive I’ll end up wearing that jacket on the left encrusted with a million dark metal beads; it embodies that disheveled-dandy-glitzy aesthetic that I so espouse nowadays.


No shoes could be more perfect for that outfit than Haider’s striped satin slippers,


And maybe, in the unlikely event that I get through this whirlwind trip and ceremony and reception---and this abnormally wordy delusional blog post---the least bit intelligible, this artful Yohji Yamamoto Fall 2011 painted velvet long jacket for the perfect late-late evening stroll around the palace gardens.

*wholly, ridiculously fictitious, through and through