Fashion is a fickle mistress. It was only recently I discovered I was supposed to do something about my dress shirt collars’ erectile dysfunction. I’d spent years assuming nothing could be done about those well-worn collars, tired and flaccid as they framed my neckties like limp noodles. It’s just not something decent society discussed.
With the introduction of “collar stays,” those flat pieces of hard plastic meant to be inserted into slider “pockets” sewn into the underside of dress shirt collars, my shirts get a second chance at making a good first impression. These hardened tabs are meant as a kind of fashion Viagra, providing rigidity and crispness to shirts as they age. And, like most things introduced to make my life easier, all I can do is complain.