The first thing I noticed about my future husband was his brand new Rockport dress shoes. (He confessed to me later that they were so painful he’d discreetly slipped them off under the restaurant table and prayed his feet didn’t stink.)
Perhaps you’ve been miraculously spared all the buzz about Fifty Shades of Grey (the title comes from the alpha male hero’s pricey neckties). Then simply Google “women notice men’s’ shoes” and prepare to be amazed. This is most definitely a “thing.”
A friend of mine went on one of those annual cruises hosted by a famous conservative magazine. She said you always knew when Mark Steyn was coming down the passageway because you’d first hear the sound of giggling females of all ages, glued to him like pilot fish.
Steyn is a brilliant writer as well as an impeccably polite, courtly, and cultured yet well-rounded gentleman who apparently divides his time away from his desk between hobnobbing with minor European royalty and mushing sled dogs around his New Hampshire farm. (See also “sexy voice,” above.)
No one is ever surprised to learn that Steyn is a big James Bond fan.
I’ve had the pleasure of spending a few hours in his company. And after all these years, I’ve come to the conclusion that Mark Steyn is required by law to wear a bespoke suit at all times, possibly even whilst mushing.
So while few male readers will ever be able to acquire Steyn’s inimitable prose style (and the success that’s come with it) or his Rolodex, they can certainly jot “get a tailor” on their self-improvement lists.
Which brings us to…