Working class narrative on social mobility and romance in postwar Northern England.
For all that, it gave me far more pleasure than the dressing gown
I have now, which was bought from Sulka's in Bond Street. Not that
I don't like the Sulka; it's the best, and I always wear the best. But
sometimes I feel uncomfortably aware that I'm forced to be a living
proof of the firm's prosperity, a sort of sandwich-board man. I've no
desire to be ill dressed; but I hate the knowledge that I daren't be
ill dressed if I want to. I bought the cheap rayon garment to please myself.;
I bought the expensive silk garment because always to wear clothes of
that quality is an unwritten term of my contract. And I shall never
be able to recapture that sensation of leisure and opulence and
sophistication which came over me that first afternoon in Warley
when I took off my jacket and collar and went into the bathroom
wearing a real dressing gown.
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