Jeg har før haft fat i Tom Wolfe, bannerfører for den litterære realisme, forfatter til Forfængelighedens bål og En stor mand, og lidt af kortprosaskribent, der blandt andet har fabrikeret novellen The Secret Vice, som begynder således:
“Real buttonholes. That’s it! A man can take his thumb and forefinger and unbutton his sleeve at the wrist because this kind of suit has real buttonholes there. Tom, boy, it’s terrible. Once you know about it, you start seeing it. All the time! There are just two classes of men in the world, men with suits whose buttons are just sewn onto the sleeve, just some kind of cheapie decoration, or—yes!—men who can unbutton the sleeve at the wrist because they have real buttonholes and the sleeve really buttons up. Fascinating!”
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