DuPont Corfam - Johnston & Murphy's Clubsman look.

Was there ever a time when we didn't laugh at white leather shoes? Err, probably. Was there ever a time when we didn't laugh at the privileged wieners who walk around in ascots at The Club? Sort of probably. That was 1969, I guess.

Johnston & Murphy? Who the hell are Johnston & Mur- Oh! They exist! Wups, sorry, guys.

This as appeared in the March, 1969 issue of Esquire magazine, the journal of the ambitious douchebag for over forty years. If there's any place you can find readers who say things like..

"As soon as I get a membership to St. Wanksborough Country Club for the Conspicuously Pampered, the boss is sure to give me that regional manager's position and then I'll be drowning in ladies' private parts for sure! I just need to make an ascot out of this seasonally themed napkin!"

In the serving suggestion in the ad, the lady (has been instructed by the art director to appear as though she) is pensively nibbling the earpiece of her glasses, trying to figure out how best to convince this upwardly mobile young pansy to bump uglies with her.

She's finally got him all to herself for a few minutes to try some conversation. It's her big chance. I hope it goes well for her! You only get one chance with Richmond Festersson the Nth! Good luck, lil' missy!

What does Richard Festersson the Nth know about footwear that we don't? Well, getting the owners of ladyparts to offer their wares to you takes more than a deviously tucked ascot. It takes some bright, glowy shoes. "Well, yes, of course!" you say, "...but what of the thousand inevitable smudges and smirches that such shoes are heir to? What will become of our dreams of ugly bumping when our shoes are kinda dirty? Whaaaat??? Hurry! Tell us!!!!" you finish, all in a tizzy. Okay, calm down. no need for trouser moistening. Johnston & Murphy has got you covered.

Corfam! Woo! It ain't leather, man! Leather? That's for your grampa's shoes! Leather's for sucks! Don't be a suck! Get your feet into some gin-you-wine DuPont Corfam (tm) uppers, so you can get into the lowers of the fluttery partner of your choice! Vinyl Corfam, bitch!

What do you do in your seconds-long refractory period, when repeated doings of "it" have left you slightly winded and you're momentarily bereft of the need to stick your thing in someone else's thing?

Well, there's always the continental breakfast table over by the topiary garden, or the squash courts. Orrrrr, you could be the antagonist in a late-Seventies early-Eighties summer teen comedy, possibly starring Bill Murray or John Cusak. Just be ready for your tee time at four with the Howells... or with that guy who's sourcing your next Alfa Romeo from that Torino dealer who can get them in just the shade of white that matches your Corfams.