Michael Kelly does without . . . his tie
As you may know if you have read this column before, I recently abandoned the corporate life. One of the greatest pleasures in that move has been my release from the purgatory of wearing neckties. Surely there is no greater abomination on God's earth than having to strangle yourself in the interests of . . . well what exactly?
Ties have no function. They are a badge only of conformity, of belonging, of membership. They are the ribbon on a gift - completely useless, but thought necessary to complete the wrapping. For 10 years, the tie represented the corporate noose around my neck.
Recently I have had a bit of a problem with shirt sizes. My neck has increased from 15½ to 16 (it's not just metaphorically that I have an increasingly thick neck), but size 16 shirts are too big on me. As a result I have become used to wearing a shirt that is too tight in the neck. The addition of a necktie ensures that no oxygen at all can get to my head and gives rise to the risk of my eyes literally popping out of my head.
And yet we still feel obliged to wear ties. Would you, for example, attend an interview tie-less? Or a wedding? Well, this week Mrs Kelly and I had two weddings to attend in the space of four days. So I thought it would be a good week to test whether society accepts tie-less men at formal occasions.
It's not like I showed up in jeans and a T-shirt. I invested some effort and expense in trying to ensure that the rest of the ensemble would be sufficiently smart to take attention away from the fact that I wasn't wearing a tie. I have a nice pin-striped suit and some decent shoes.
At the first wedding, in Wexford, I wore a pink shirt, open-necked. I counted about five guys at the wedding wearing no tie, so I didn't feel too conspicuous.
The second wedding was in Wales and there was only one other guy at the wedding not wearing a tie. At our table, there was a couple who admitted to having colour co-ordinated their outfits. The woman was wearing a fetching black dress which had some orange flourishes in it. The guy was wearing an orange tie.
Posh and Becks would no doubt be pleased, but for us males this is a scary development. It means we are reduced to a fashion accessory - occupying a position of importance somewhere between the fake tan and the ankle bracelet. I tried to explain this to a friendly Welsh girl sitting on my left, whose name I couldn't pronounce. "Well at least he wore a tie," she sniffed.