Word: flanneled
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Freudian man, Marxian man, organization man, lifeman, gamesman and grey-flannel-suit man-what were they compared to the S-Man? Piglets to a python. In the diabolically clever guise of a self-help manual, The S-Man aims a good Swiftian kick at the cult and cultists of success. A British export, the book lacks the clubby good humor of Parkinson and Potter, substitutes instead the wittily barbed aphorisms of the success man's ascent ("New friends are best friends"). Cocktail party Platos will find a host of new S-Man concepts, including the Inhibition Barrier...
...lives on Lexington Avenue, not Madison, and it runs to blue serge conservatism more than grey flannel. It takes no hard-liquor accounts, turns up its nose at some top-selling products (patent medicines), refuses even to put on speculative account presentations for prospective clients...
Desperate Move. He generally goes around in a tieless flannel shirt, stovepipe trousers that somehow bag at the knees, a moldy, fur-lined leather coat ("I shot it myself"), and a workingman's cloth cap. But he wears a suit and tie to restaurants, so that he will not "have to perform as a rebel, put my feet on the table or something that would interfere with my eating." He simply fears "claustrophobia of the soul" (which may have helped cause him to separate from his wife, Actress Jane Wenham), thinks that too many British actors are preoccupied with...
...field of public relations where the gray flannel suit and attache case are what count, the figure of Raymond W. Miller in a dark blue double-breasted suit, armed with an old, battered briefcase is an incongruity. In a profession where rats race, and ulcers quickly age the youngest junior executive, the candor and youthful exuberance of Mr. Miller, who is 66, is an anomaly...
...grow old . . . I grow old . . . I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach...