Q: What do you think of this?
— Elliot (longtime reader and customer)

A: Want to look like a million bucks? Start with $115 billion, then wear this jacket. ALL SALES FINAL.

DEAL 1: In our MB Build series from earlier this year, we bought the client four shirts. His favorite was the white NOS Jacobs by Marc Jacobs for Marc Jacobs we had in our warehouse for over a decade. But a close 2nd was a Brooks Brothers plaid from YOOX. We got the last one in February, but it's back in stock in several sizes and just $59. Fits true to size.

DEAL 2: Later, when we bought our MB Build client shoes, one pair he threw back was these Alexander Smith tennies. His loss was our gain, as we kept them, and have since become huge Alexander Smith fans. Quirky and different in an authentically British way — as opposed to Boris Johnson's TTH way — this brand is our most important discovery of 2019. Once $229, they're just $52, and while we're unapologetic Anglophiles, we'd punt the lot you'll like them as much as we do. Fits true to size.

UPDATE 8/21/2019: Since we posted this, that sneaker model has sold out of everything except size 9. If you're another size, check the rest of Alexander Smith's inventory.

Q: It's just topped 70 degrees and sunny in Seattle, which means" suns out, buns out" is in effect. It also means it's time for sunglasses. Currently, I'm using my father's vintage glacier glasses from the late 70s, with the leather side shades removed, but they're not prescription lenses and I'd like to have a less blurry world. What are your thoughts on sunglasses for those of us who wear prescriptions? Get Rx lenses in the sunglasses, go clip-on like Lennon, or just swap out our glasses as needed (in which case, what to do with the Rx specs while out in the sun)?
—Brian

A: Indeed, if it's "buns out" clear vision is mandatory.

Long ago we wrestled with the same dilemma, first trying contact lenses plus regular sunglasses, then clip-ons, and finally settling on Rx sunglasses.

We recommend fast-forwarding directly to Rx sunglasses.

You didn't suggest contacts as an option — probably because you've worn them — and clip-ons are just too fussy and fragile and overall TTH. Also note that John Lennon is photographed wearing those clip-ons well into his Yoko Ono phase.

Anyhow, take your dad's old glacier glasses into Seattle's top-rated optician for Rx lenses and get their slimmest hard case. Swapping frames and dealing with a case is definitely not ideal, but we've found it's rarely an issue:

• The number of times you're out and truly need both glasses and sunglasses are far fewer than you think.
• In those situations there is often a puffer vest or jacket or blazer to slip it into without any trouble; surely it's a similar situation in Seattle as it is in Minneapolis.
• Since we've fully embraced our own Minimum Viable Wallet technology there's now additional room in our pants, in a pinch.

EARLIER: Ask the MB: John Lennon's Clip-On Sunglasses

EVEN EARLIER: Ask the MB: John Lennon Sunglasses

Help! Previous "ask the MB" here (from all the way back in 2010 about the office booze cruise). I'm in need of fantastically MB watch for general use and upcoming wedding I will be attending. Sadly, both previously suggested O&W's are out of stock. I'm not a watch fanatic and go cross-eyed looking on watch forums for suggestions. Are there any other military inspired sub 40mm watches you recommend? What about this Hamilton?

Thanks. And by the way, the minimum viable wallet rocks. And these ties are 10/10 quality.
—Wade

A: First, thanks for the comments on our gear. We agree! We're diligently working on a couple other things we can't wait to show off.

As for that Hamilton, while it fulfills the size and movement requirements, the dial is waaaaay TTH. Partial seconds? That's reserved for NBA shot clocks and the Olympics. And by our count there are 37 numbers, which is 1133% more legibility than the minimalist O&W Kartago (three).

We're not sure when the wedding is, but a timepiece isn't as necessary as, say, pants. Don't settle. Westcoastime assures us the O&W M-65 will be back in stock by the end of June (2018). That's a good watch. If you can wait a while longer, we're in contact with Mr. Wajs — the "W" in O&W — and negotiating on a small run of the Kartago to put in the shop.

Q: Please weigh in heavily on the jogger pants trend that is sweeping shamefully across the country.
— Dave

If we ever find ourselves on the tennis courts at the Red Raider Community Fitness Facility in April or October, we like cotton sweatpants for the first 20 minutes or so. We also endorse cashmere sweatpants under the following conditions: Intercontinental plane travel; domestic train travel that spans at least three states; recovery from any surgery that pushes you over your out-of-pocket maximum for the year; and house arrest.

Beyond that, we cast a wary eye toward sweatpants, loungewear, joggers, or whatever you want to call them.

Now, granted, in the era when we initially developed this wariness, sweatpants came in two main varieties: Shiny silk or shapeless polar fleece.

The new generation of sweatpants offers an alternative to such fare. They're cut more closely, they come in cotton, wool, and cashmere, and when designers aren't trying too hard to make them novel or sporty, there are an abundance of good options to choose from if you need a pair for any of the purposes we describe above.

And this current abundance doesn't surprise us — we see it as the inevitable consequence of aging millennials seeking relief from the unforgiving skinny jeans of their higher-metabolism youth. And of course it's yet another manifestation of culture's primary shaping force over the last 40 years or so — business casual.

But despite the significant advances in sweatpants manufacture, we don't find ourselves wanting to wear them more often. While $300 tailored sweatpants are certainly a step up from onesies, they still strike us as somewhat infantile when worn in nightclubs, restaurants, etc. And at work they cross the chasm from business casual to trying too hard (TTH).

Indeed, if your need to gamify your Monday morning meeting is so strong that you leave your colleagues wondering if you're planning to dunk on them or just share your thoughts on the Q3 revenue forecasts, you are spending way too much time at the office and not enough time engaging in actual leisure. Put on a belt, knot up your tie, and pour yourself a drink. Work shouldn't be that strenuous.

As a young, London-trained barrister, Mahatma Gandhi wore traditional business attire and pulled it off with aplomb. But it wasn't until he shed his suit and tie in favor of simple hand-spun sheet of locally produced cloth — aka khadi — that he emerged as a world-changing force. While rulers and revolutionaries alike typically signal their power and/or aspirations to power through crowns, brocade, epaulettes, sashes, and other ostensibly dazzling sartorial semaphores, Gandhi went in the complete opposite direction. His entire wardrobe appeared to consist of a bedsheet.

But if clothes make the man, it's also true, though much rarer, that the man can sometimes make the clothes. Gandhi donned a simple sheet and established himself as an icon of understated but indomitable will. His message was so true, and his convictions so strong, that he didn't need to clothe them in anything more elaborate than plain white cloth.

Now let us be clear here. We're not saying everyone — or really even anyone — should dress like Gandhi. If we said that, we'd never sell another belt or tie. But talk about artful dishevelment! Talk about not trying too hard! While Gandhi's wardrobe lacked variety, it had style to spare. And that's why, today, on Gandhi's birthday, we are breaking out the Bulleit and the Laphroaig and toasting the father of an independent India — and the father of business casual. Before Hef went to work in a bathrobe, before Steve Jobs prowled the hallways of Atari in bare feet, before Mark Zuckerberg taught mankind to share everything in a hoodie, there was Gandhi, showing the world you don't always need a power tie to be powerful. Our glasses are raised in his honor.

Once Google Glass hit the streets, we knew it was only a matter of time before monocles experienced a resurgence. It's Newton's Third Law of Fashion: For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction.

So when some people start wearing computers on their faces, others will move in the opposite direction, donning crippled glasses. Inevitably, the monocle is having a moment. According to the New York Times, the one-lensed eyepiece is a certified "mini-trend."

Is this particular fashion moment one you should take part in? On the one hand, the monocle is archaic, Anglophilic, and even when providing vision correction, characterized by a senseless lack of utility. On the other hand, it's an extreme affectation, a facial prop for men who don't think bow ties are fussy enough.

To help clarify where we ultimately come down on the issue, we've created a new decider.

Q: At a cocktail party last night, an acquaintance pointed out that the lacing on my trusty oxfords was mismatched: the right shoe, straight bar (courtesy of the shoe shop) and the left, crisscross (courtesy of me). Before I correct this four-years-old case of absentmindedness, I thought I should consult MB. What is your recommendation for lacing methods, lace type and end length? (And just what is your thought on the bi-color lacing I see in the magazines?)
—Brian

There is a thin line between senseless lack of utility and trying too hard, and it can be found at Ian's Shoelace Site. While we admire attention to detail in unexpected places as much as anyone, we also have a thing for simplicity. Nine out of ten times we do Criss Cross or Display Shoe. With a dressier shoe we'll sometimes mix in Straight Bar, which requires a bit more effort for its streamlined effect but isn't so complicated that we suddenly feel like we're crocheting instead of getting dressed.

Specific lace types depend on the shoe, of course. We like natural laces (cotton, rawhide) over synthetic options, and stay away from any lace that's fat enough to qualify as a skinny tie.

Regarding end length, Professor Shoelace's obsession is instructive here. As his illustration suggests, a 10-inch end length leaves with you a fairly neat bow, and a 12-inch end length crosses into droopiness. For maximum artful dishevelment, we aim for 11 inches.

As for bi-color lacing, we classify that the same way we do dressing up for Halloween: Best left to children and chain-restaurant waitstaff.