Underground
On went his sharpest three-piece, the Saxony tweed, followed by the double monk straps, in burnished caramel, which Michael knew would trigger a coo from dear old Mom. Her stylish son. So handsome. A throwback from her side of the family, those oh-so-attractive Pfeiffers, with their thick manes
Jeremy could be a bit of a walking crime scene. Clothes thrown everywhere. Wet towels draped over chairs. Here and there the evidence of fruit-eating by way of stem, pit, and core.