The Crisis, The Fox and The Wardrobe

 

 

 

 

 

When I was a wealthy broker I dressed dapper, mode-de-jour

Then some greedy Yankee bastbankers ended all my haute couture.

First a margin call at Barclay’s, next old Lehmann biting dust

Even blue-chips like Armani saw share values slump and bust.

From the penthouse to the poorhouse was a fall that left me bruised

My creditors fought for my Porsche but overlooked my clothes.

In Burberry Persian slippers I escaped wardrobe intact

Nicked brogues from former CEO (holed soles did not detract).

I parked my outsized wardrobe on some bankrupt builder’s land

As a home it had some drawbacks but was cozy if not grand.

I decided that each morning I’d outline some get-rich schemes

Then perambulate the sidewalks selling wealth for folks’ pipedreams.

My appearance would show others that I was a decent chap

On noting my Versace vest they’d write the needed cheque.

In my D&G cream blazer with checked shirt by Henry Buck

Rich women sensed my credence as their purses I did pluck.

When mixing with the rustics, Donegal Tweed naturally

At the Langham it’s Ralph Lauren with cravat by Liberty.

So you’re looking for a mortgage but you’re also locked in jail?

Do not fret just sign this paper, I’ll sell Crombie coats for bail.

Now I’m hanging in my wardrobe wondering how I feel today

Is my mood a muted Hugo Boss or pinstriped Cardin grey?

All my masks along the chrome rail offer feigning fronts to show

How I need you to perceive me, what I choose to let you know.

My cocoons all run the gamut from Lacroix to Christian Dior

All famous pricey labels (some sewn outside – just for show).

I’m financially embarrassed but you’d surely never tell

You’re all such shallow people that you judge me by my shell

I’m soon buying a new penthouse so this lesson’s hardly news:

Do not be bluffed by conman’s dress, invert him – check his shoes.