I’ve been having plenty of daydreams lately. They usually go like this: I’m a Harvard-educated attorney working for a swanky law firm. I have a $400 James Dean-inspired haircut, and a diamond peel-polished visage that would put silken tofu to shame. However, it’s my Hermès briefcase that puts a smile on my mug. Its pale cocoa colour stands out against a sea of black portfolios. When courtroom confrontations get edgy, I unfasten the equestrian-inspired Etriviere buckle to reveal key evidence while communicating just the right amount of subtle style to be supremely convincing in my motion. As I wake from my reverie, I look down at my scruffy sneakers to realise an epiphany: there’s nothing more intimidating than a man who’s as brilliant as he is well turned-out.