Why do they call it that, by the way? I'm pretty certain you'd be burning your social bridges if you showed up buck naked apart from a winning smile and a bow tie, both worn at a jaunty angle.
Several years ago I was persuaded to buy a tux on the basis that it would sort out all the hassle of renting one for the once or twice a year I need one. This, despite the fact that Katie once titled a picture of me in full evening dress as:
"James Bond. The Pie Years."
To be honest, since then I've worn it on a handful of occasions so it's probably paid for itself. However. There's a but. And, it's a big but. I bought this when I was a little more upholstered than I am now, particularly around the waist. Which is a problem as they don't tend to put belt loops on evening dress trousers.
The upshot of all this is that I'll be spending much of tomorrow evening in a state of high anxiety, surrounded by the Great and the Good with my trousers on the verge of becoming a novelty set of ankle warmers.
Hold on to that image, why don't you?
Hopefully, the fact that once again I've taught myself to tie a bow tie properly will stand me in good stead. I've even been practicing:
I think I'll take the pre-tied as a backup, just in case. An old boss of mine told me that when he was at Cambridge, they would remove any pre-tied bow ties from ball attendees and ritually burn them. I'm hoping he's not there tomorrow.
At least I can try the elegantly wasted look later in the evening with both ends dangling, a la Bryan Ferry in 1983.