A day in the life of a white shirt:

Being an account of  24  unforgettable hours of sartorial decline

as told by Mr. Sesto’s favourite garment.

8am.

Mr. Sesto arose as normal after a little bedroom dalliance  but let us not pursue that thought. Decorum at all times, please.  He always looks in the mirror to tidy and tuck me in, button me  correctly and, quite often, dress me with a suitable  tie. However he habitually fails to tie it correctly.  A double windsor is so fetching in a gentleman’s atire  don’t you think?  and I seriously  wish he would make more effort  especially when he also dons the jacket.

8.30 am

Mr. Sesto was goaded into some sort of altercation with his lady companion  and neglected his collar arrangement. The cuffs, however, were satisfactorily turned and not rolled, a pleasing touch.

9.30 am

The altercations took a turn for the worse  and, even though Mr. Sesto carefully positioned  his jacket over me, which he frequently  does because  the young ladies admire it so,  he became particularly  discomforted.  I mean – look at the tension in those hands and my collar is just appalling. I do wish he would take more care even if he does have a few things on his mind. My appearance is verging on the casual which I deem highly inappropriate in a young patrician.

10am

Mr. Sesto went back to his ladyfriend’s  dwelling, this time wearing the jacket – but not for long. She spent an inordinate amount of  time  trying to persuade him to do some task or other  and I have learnt to my cost that her persuasion techniques usually include the removal of garments, frequently in haste.  I dread to think what almost  became of me whilst they frolicked on the floor. So plebeian. I was so  distracted by  her heaving bosom that I did not catch the full gist of the conversation but I think it involved a knife and that Emperor  fellow  Tito … strange chap;  occasionally wears a skirt.

8pm

Just look at the state of me now!  I have no idea how it occurred  but there was an almighty conflagration – smoke damage everywhere and I can’t imagine how many washes it will take to rectify this situation. Worse still, there was blood as Mr. Sesto attacked a gentleman in the dark.  Note to self: I do hope he makes an appointment at Casa Figaro soon.

9pm

Mr. Sesto’s bosom pal Mr. Annio arrived to try and improve his mood.  He was looking pretty dreadful too – he will need to take that suit to the cleaners forthwith.

Nice enough fellow but he does seem to prefer cheap blue shirts bought by the dozen from sexyshirtsroma.com.  I, of course, was  a bespoke purchase, tailored at Gaetano Alosio. I do believe Mr. Publio has an account  there also.

9.30 pm

Mr Publio may wear exceedingly  good shirts but he can really cut up rough on occasions.  He came to arrest Mr. Sesto and stretched my seams  almost to breaking point. It is fortunate that Mr. Sesto was wearing an undergarment.

Next day

Well….  After a dreadful night in the cells Mr. Sesto eventually was forgiven, his ladyfriend sorted things out with Emperor Tito although her makeup was particularly  strange and I do think it rather pretentious to wear sun spectacles indoors.  I was sent to Il Miglior Lavanderia, Roma and was back with Mr. Sesto in no time at all.

It was not too long before he was back to his old romantic tricks, serenading under balconies.

HAVE  A  WONDERFUL  WHITE  SHIRT  WEEKEND

( but, hopefully, not as eventful as this!)

All images are stills from Mozart’s “La Clemenza di Tito” – see White Shirt post 4 for details of this wonderful DVD. Why are there not Oscars for  finely judged yet  powerfully spontaneous character interpretations in opera?  If there were, no doubt Frau Kasarova would have a shelf full by now!

Enjoy  this astonishing “Deh per questo istante solo ” from Act 2.  A perfect example of text and word painting  from both the composer and the interpreter. The genius of Mozart combined with the individuality  and artistry of  Kasarova reduce me to jelly and tears in equal measure ….

…..  how about you?

video with thanks to  Arishi110

Deh per questo istante solo,  Ti ricorda il primo amor.

Che morir mi fa di duolo,  Il tuo sdegno il tuo rigor.

Di peitade indegno e vero,  Sol spirar io deggio orror.

Pur sareti men severo,  Se vedessi questo cor.

Disperato vado a morte;  Ma il morir non mi tormenta

Che fui teco un traditor!   (Tanto affanno soffre un core, Ne si more di dolor!)

The piece is in the form of a rondo and here is the    MUSIC SCORE