"A what, sir?" (Ryan).(on cultural trends, handkerchiefs, and sherry)(Column)

OUR TASTES greatly alter," pronounced Doctor Johnson. "The lad does not care for the child's rattle, and the old man does not care for the young man's whore."

We see this in ourselves when, after half a lifetime of drinking our tea with milk, we suddenly prefer it black; or with sugar, when for years we have drank it unsweetened.

I find it amazing how widely an alteration to taste (or fashion, or manners) among people at large can establish itself before I have even remarked its arrival. Not all that many years ago, only dogs and down-and-outs ate while walking along the street. Today, half the people you pass will have a wedge of pizza or the remains of a chicken roll protruding from their faces. Or they will be sucking lolly-water from a repulsive plastic bottle. Once upon a time, these things would have been the stigmata of unfortunate young people whose mothers had not taught them manners. Nowadays, Mum herself is likely to be cheerfully chomping her way along previously elegant Collins Street.

The once ubiquitous baseball cap illustrates how speedily an alteration can establish itself. When, and where, did the first lad turn the peak backwards, sou'wester-style? How long was it before the practice became universal?

These reflections rise from my recent attempt to buy a plain, ordinary handkerchief. For many decades it has been my whim (when in town) to wear a white breast-pocket handkerchief. Put it down to whatever manner of affectation you like, but I simply don't feel properly dressed without it; besides, you would be amazed how often, whipped out on the instant, it serves to mop up someone's spilled drop of claret, or delicately to remove a smut from a lady's maquillage.

So when I found my handkerchief missing the other day, I popped, full of confidence, into a small but rather stylish men's wear shop nearby. It was perhaps a little up-market from the establishments where I usually purchase attire; this would doubtless be an expensive handkerchief, but no matter. The greeting of the salesman (perhaps the owner?) was polish itself.

Said I: "Look, all I really want is a nice white handkerchief--perhaps I should get a couple, while I'm here."