dress shirt

As a young lad growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area town of Pittsburg, my school uniform consisted of corduroys the color of Ash Wednesday, a white dress shirt and a maroon V-neck sweater.

A short time later, a man in a white dress shirt walked through the hole in the fence and toward a tent.

Pascal’s Mr. Fantastic is so buttoned-down that he tucks his tie into his dress shirt.

Jacket and tieless with his dress shirt’s sleeves rolled up lopsidedly, he hastily joked, “I’m nervous, but I hope you enjoy it — and if you don’t, tell us gently.”

I even had time to walk back to my car and change from my T-shirt into a clean white dress shirt I had brought with me.