Spring had officially come a day early, though, unofficially, it felt much earlier than that. We took notice of the sweat stains soaked eagerly into the underarms of our plaid button-down and the discernible discomfort of chinos matted to the back of our knees. The winter had been a short one, and the weight we packed on for our annual hibernation had yet to be converted into self-sustaining energy. Or perhaps it was the gym membership that lay lazily on our dusty dresser. Or the vicious cycle of both.
Whatever the reason, we had misread the almanac. And we were looking like an overweight college student who hadn’t showered in weeks. Nonetheless, a few Mondays back, we bounded across the pre-seasonably green island to Park Avenue Tavern where tape measures, hand-rolled cigars and deep pours of Laphroaig single malt greeted us for our custom suit fitting, part of a Luxury Lifestyle series that was supposed to make us feel like the proper gentleman that we (apparently) weren’t. Read More