Leave Orengo alone, a suit is the culmination of power

Amidst the numerous anecdotes in Miguna Miguna’s Peeling Back The Mask is the issue of the price of sartorial elegance.

How much should you pay for a suit? At which point does writing a cheque towards a flight of dandyish fancy stumble into bumbling incompetence? Where is the clearly delineated Rubicon for sane spending when it comes to clothes?

If you are a lady, the answer is simple. A smart lady very close to my heart — and, sadly, no longer with us — once told me that “you cannot put a price on a lady looking right”. I am inclined to agree.

What a woman should spend — and could spend — on looking good should have no upper limit. Imelda Marcos and Marie Antoinette, in their country-impoverishing acquisitiveness, were simply playing out every lady’s subconscious desires. They were just lucky enough to have the bank balance to do so.

But what of a man? Is it alright to go for a fitting of a half-a-million bob suit? If on any day you put your hand over my eyes and asked me what I was wearing, I probably wouldn’t know.

I have never been one who cared to be a dapper dresser. I think clothes are the province of men too in touch with their feminine sides that the preening is overcompensating for the gap where their personality should be. Clothes maketh the man? Huh?

Marxist undertones

In the exchange between Miguna and Orengo over a suit in Peeling Back The Mask, I think we should remember that both the writer and the subject of the matter are former university student leaders with all the Marxist undertones that that would entail.

So, should a left-leaning former student leader and champion of social democracy have such refined tastes in the trappings, baubles and accoutrements of capitalism?

A more pertinent question is not being asked: Are such conspicuous luxuries appropriate for a man? One who, it must be remembered, ran for the presidency in 1997 on a Social Democratic Party ticket?

Would the 0.4 per cent of Kenyans who identified with the Social Democratic Party in 1997 be proud that their party leader would be swathed in such symbols of ostentation?

Speaking for the common man apparently involves dressing up like a king. Nothing is too good for the proletariat. Even suits, top hats and coat tails can all be converted into the rebellion against the capitalist swine.

When you cross the eye of the needle into great wealth and status, it’s time to dress the part.

Suits, along with concentration camps, are Britain’s greatest contributions to the world at large. Both are uncomfortable, unseemly and you cannot wait to get out of. But when you are in either a suit or a concentration camp, it raises your profile among your peers.

The only thing that Britain still manufactures that is wholly British is probably suits. Gene Simmons, a famous singer, once pointed out that the secret to success is to “Think Yiddish, Dress British”. Which roughly translates to: “Be prudent in your business affairs, but dress in a suit”.

A suit is the default wardrobe setting for success. It is the single most successful piece of clothing after the jeans. It speaks authority, proclaims certainty, exudes confidence and implies professionalism. It is what anyone would want to meet his maker in. That is why they bury you in one.

A suit is at the cul-de-sac of dressing elegance. There is no upping the ante after you start wearing suits. The only thing left to do is get more expensive suits. Finally, it culminates in getting a custom-made suit, one crafted to embellish the lack of shoulders and perhaps pad the ravages of indulgence.

There are two types of men; those who speak and those who are bespoke. So it actually makes sense that one would go for a more expensive suit than what would be locally available.

There is a moment when boys must become men and embrace the suit. There comes a time when one must boldly embrace the stiffness of sartorial conservatism and kneel before the altar of conformity. It usually comes after a promotion.

For many, a suit is funeral wear. I have had the misfortune of being in a meeting where I came dressed in a T-shirt and a hoodie and everyone else was in official wear. It felt a bit like being a feminist in The Vatican.

Oscar Wilde said that a cynic is a man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing. The price is immaterial if you have the money to spend.

As any woman would tell you, the function of money is to be turned into utility. Money is a means to an end. It should be spread, not accumulated. When you lay on your death bed, your material life flashing around you, you will regret the things you didn’t get when you could and not the price of things you did.

He can afford it

Cost benefit analysis for someone who is clearly rich doesn’t shock me. Undoubtedly, after years of being a parliamentarian and a minister, James Orengo can afford a half-a-million shilling suit.

You cut your cloth according to your bank balance. He clearly can afford to wear the Emperor’s New Clothes and does not need anyone to point out his nakedness.

What worries me is not the luxurious vanities of the rich. It is the open-handed generosity of people who cannot afford it that sticks in the craw.

Such as: Why is a country that cannot afford to feed itself attacking a neighbour in a costly war? Why would a country that doesn’t have universal healthcare for its citizens spend more on the military than health?

Why would a country pay for a 40+ Cabinet when it struggles under the cost of developing itself?

Compared to the hole we are burning through our pockets in the treasury for the war in Somalia, a half-a-million-shilling suit is very good value for money.

Is he right? Must boys embrace the suit to become men? Send your comments to [email protected]. Follow the sartorial conversation at www.nation.co.ke/dn2

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Too fat for the treadmill. Ooops!

THERE WAS an interesting advertisement for exercise equipment in the Nation on Wednesday last week. What particularly caught my eye was a motorised treadmill which, surprisingly, puts an upper limit on the weight of those in need of its services. It lists 100 kilogrammes as the cut-off weight.

A cursory glance on Nairobi streets, especially on the way to the numerous 24-hour chips-and-chicken establishments around, would tell you that a 100-kilogramme cutoff would disqualify majority in need of treadmills.

In the “bigger and better” launch of the third season of Citizen TV’s Slimpossible, a glance at the obviously reinforced weighing machine (its former use was as a Richter scale) would reveal that majority of the contestants would find no use for these treadmills.

It seems a curious thing to do to put an upper limit on what is essentially a weight loss product. How, if I may ask, should one lose the excess flab until he is better suited for the treadmill?

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Malaba the place to be, says World Bank

WHEN WE line them up and probe their readiness for business, it turns out that the town in Kenya that comes up top when it comes to business is on the border. According to the World Bank, Malaba is the best place to do business in Kenya.

Nairobi, which, according to The 2012 MasterCard Global Destination Cities Index, is the fourth most visited city in Africa, was unlucky and came in at number 13 in the ease-of-doing-business survey.

It is even more worrying to note that the number of towns used as respondents in the study was 13. So Nairobi was actually last in the study. Garissa, our frontier town under a quasi state of emergency, was also in the list, further complicating matters for our beloved capital.

It is funny that, while Nairobi holds such a high profile in economic circles internationally, internally, it doesn’t do well when it is pitted against other towns. This is ample proof that devolution of power is going to be a smart move for Kenya. Also, we should market and raise the profile of our cities more to compete internationally.

It is similarly worrying that the city most open for doing business is on the border with Uganda. For an investor impressed with the performance in Malaba, I fear that he might be tempted to head on further west because I doubt whether the efficiency found in Malaba draws its inspiration from the Kenyan side of the border.

Perhaps it is time we built an airport and started business flights direct to Malaba and spare investors the bureaucratic mess that is Nairobi.