The other night I went with my daughter to hear Tim Gunn in conversation with Bud Mishkin. A convergence of menschen. Tim is delightful, but also intimidating. After carefully choosing an outfit to wear in the presence of the High Priest, I realized to my horror that I had committed a fashion sin. My fitted shirt didn’t really fit. And then Tim pronounced from on high (actually the stage in the auditorium of the 92nd Street Y) that the ultimate evil, an abomination in the eyes of the garment gods, are cargo capris. I confess I own a pair. Most comfortable item in my closet. But now I must cast them out. I have seen the light. Bless me, father Tim, for I need a new wardrobe.