A Ballade of Black Socks

Lords of Fashion may disagree
On the question of questions, what to wear
At déjeuner, dinner, dance or tea,
“Feed informal” or “Smart affair.”
Let not the neophyte despair
Dreading disdain of the gilded throng
Hark to the dictum of Vanity Fair
“Plain Black Socks can never be wrong.”

Let scribes sartorial decree
Whether the “skirt” shall be full or spare,
Whether the crease be above the knee,
Whether the seam shall be here or there.
Of the openwork sock with the clock beware!
On Fancy’s rein let your curb be strong!
Hark to the dictum of Vanity Fair,
“Plain Black Socks can never be wrong.”

Doubting dolts may be all at sea
Tossed on tempestuous waves of care.
Are they wearing two studs?—or one?—or three?
Will a satin tie cause a well bred stare?
Leave dressy deeds to dudes that dare!
Heed not the scented siren’s song
Hark to the dictum of Vanity Fair,
“Plain Black Socks can never be wrong.”

L’envoi
Princes of Fashion, wherever ye fare—
London, Paris, New York, Hong Kong,
Hark to the dictum of Vanity Fair:
“Plain Black Socks can never be wrong.”