When the Colour Is the Message- How Political Brands Are Manufactured for Consumption

By Andrew Klein

Dedicated to my wife, who understood the message of the dove.

I. Introduction: The Colour of Politics

In the garden, the doves panic at the sight of red. It is not the fabric they fear — it is the signal. Red speaks to them in a language older than words, older than reason: danger, alarm, threat.

The same principle governs political perception.

Research confirms that colour serves as a “low-level heuristic” for voters — a mental shortcut that shapes perception before a single policy is articulated. In politics, colours are rarely accidental. They are chosen, curated, and deployed as part of a carefully constructed brand.

Consider Pauline Hanson. She wears red constantly — red hair, red clothing, red as a unifying visual identity. Margaret Thatcher, by contrast, built her image around blue — the colour of conservative authority. Both were ruthless, calculating, and servants of an economic system of extraction. Both understood that the package is the product.

This article examines how political figures are packaged for consumption, the interests that fund this packaging, and what it reveals about the nature of modern democratic politics.

II. The Psychology of Political Colour

The role of colour in political perception is well-documented. Studies have found that the meaning of colours can change depending on the degree of incongruity between a candidate’s colour image and voter expectations. When colour images are consistent with expectations, voters respond more positively. When they are incongruent, the effect is less favourable.

Colour serves as a symbolic shortcut that allows voters to form rapid impressions of candidates and their platforms. Different colours carry different connotations:

· Blue symbolises trust, stability, and conservatism.

· Red signals passion, urgency, and intensity.

· Warm colours (reds, oranges) can make politicians seem more likeable.

· Bright colours can make them seem more trustworthy.

Critically, however, the colour red is the most frequently misinterpreted colour in political contexts, due to its historical and psychological connotations which can lead to negative symbolism. Voters do not always interpret political colours uniformly; there is no established universal meaning of political colours. This ambiguity is precisely what makes colour such a powerful tool for image-makers — they can shape the meaning they want voters to see.

III. The Packaging of Thatcher and Hanson

Margaret Thatcher: The Blue of Authority

Thatcher understood that image was power. She pioneered “power dressing“, using structured suits, shoulder pads, and pearls to project strength without sacrificing femininity. Her clothing was a deliberate tool to command respect in a male-dominated world.

Thatcher used blue to symbolise conservatism and authority. At the height of her premiership, she evolved her performance to accentuate her power as a national politician and statesperson using dress. Her style was not fashion — it was strategy.

As one observer noted, Thatcher was “styled not stylish” — a significant distinction. Her image was crafted with strategic and political intent. She was not expressing herself; she was manufacturing a persona designed to dominate.

Pauline Hanson: The Red of Defiance

Hanson’s red is a different kind of signal. For a populist outsider, red projects assertiveness and conviction. It signals passion and urgency — perfect for a brand built on emotional grievance.

Hanson presents herself as a staunch conservative leading the fight against changes she believes are destroying the country. Her image is not accidental. Her 917,000 followers on Facebook (compared to the Prime Minister’s 652,000) reflect a carefully cultivated online presence. She has been “remarkably successful at using social media” and has used it strategically and innovatively for over a decade.

Her brand is unified: the red hair, the red clothing, the combative rhetoric. It is designed to be unforgettable.

IV. The Politics of Product, Voters as Consumers

Modern political marketing treats leaders as products and voters as consumers. The leader’s image is a core part of the “political product“. Voters are targeted through emotional appeals where attractive packaging conceals reality.

The spin doctor — the image manager, the media adviser — is central to this process. Spin doctors aim to generate publicity for their political masters while controlling their public presence. They manufacture “sound-bites” and “designer coverage“. They are the architects of the package.

In Australia, taxpayers fund this machinery. State governments spend $2.75 million annually on ministerial media advisers. This is not democracy — it is brand management.

Hanson’s red is not about policy. It is about branding — a visual shorthand for her entire political identity: loud, unapologetic, and “for the battler.” But Hanson has missed at least 10 days of parliament since the election, including to attend political events at Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago estate in Florida. She often skips Senate estimates and the other lower-profile responsibilities of parliamentarians.

The product is not the policy.

The product is the performance.

V. Who Is Paying for the Package?

The packaging of Pauline Hanson is not self-funded. It is underwritten by Australia’s richest person, mining billionaire Gina Rinehart.

Rinehart has donated a Cirrus G7 aircraft worth approximately A$1.5 million to One Nation. Two employees of her flagship company gave the party a further A$500,000. A dinner auctioned at Rinehart’s event raised $300,000 for One Nation. In total, One Nation has received   $2 million in cash donations from Rinehart associates.

Hanson and Barnaby Joyce billed taxpayers more than $3,000 to attend fundraising and donor events aboard the luxury cruise ship The World, where Rinehart owns an exclusive penthouse apartment. Hanson has also taken multiple flights on Rinehart’s private jets — including a Gulfstream G700 — that were not properly declared in breach of Senate rules.

The party programme now reads like a checklist of the global populist radical right: leave the United Nations, the WHO, and the World Economic Forum; cut funding for the NDIS; abolish the National Indigenous Australians Agency and the Department of Climate Change.

This is not grassroots populism.

This is a wealth extraction operation disguised as a populist movement.

VI. Personal Style as Political Statement

Personal style has long been a marker of political identity. Paul Keating, as Prime Minister, was known for wearing hand-sewn Italian suits from luxury labels like Ermenegildo Zegna. His suits were a statement of sophistication, of worldliness, of being above the parochial.

Thatcher’s blue suits and structured shoulders were a statement of authority, of command, of control.

Hanson’s red is a statement of defiance, of passion, of war.

Style is never neutral. It is always a signal — and signals are always read.

VII. The Wardrobe Mistress and the Manufactured Image

In television and politics, the “wardrobe mistress” (or image consultant) is the person who selects the clothing for public appearances. They are experts in both colour and line. They do not dress the person — they dress the brand.

Hanson’s carefully curated image — the red, the Kidman-branded country attire, the consistent visual identity — suggests the hand of a professional. It is not spontaneous. It is manufactured.

When One Nation banned The Guardian from its events after the outlet admitted that some photographs made Hanson appear “more sinister“, the party was not defending Hanson’s dignity. It was protecting the brand.

The package is the product.

And the product must be controlled.

VIII. The Mixed Messages of Red

Red is a powerful colour, but it is also a confusing one. It can signal passion or danger, love or war, revolution or reaction. Its meaning depends on context.

When Hanson wears red, she is sending a message of defiance. But when she opens her mouth — when she presents the public with stunts, with outrage, with the same threadbare playbook she has used since 1996 — the message becomes confusion.

Is she a champion of the battler?

Or is she a product of billionaire patronage?

Is she a defender of Australian values?

Or is she a performer funded by those who profit from extraction?

The colour says one thing.

The record says another.

IX. Conclusion: When the Colour Is the Message

The packaging of political figures is not an accident. It is a strategy — one that serves the interests of those who pay for it.

Hanson’s red is not about policy.

Thatcher’s blue was not about fashion.

Keating’s Italian suits were not about vanity.

They are about branding.

And branding is about selling.

If the product is so unpalatable that it requires such elaborate packaging — if the person behind the brand is so unpleasant that a carefully curated image is necessary to make them palatable — then what does that tell us about the interests that fund them?

The package is the product.

And the product is being sold to us — not as citizens, but as consumers.

When the colour is the message, we are no longer being governed.

We are being marketed to.

And the question we must ask is not what is the colour?

But who is paying for it?

And what are they buying?

Andrew Klein

References

1. Khrist Jaira, J. (2024). Political Branding: The use of campaign color as symbolism of platforms among the presidential candidates in the 2022 elections. Diversitas Journal, 9(Special Issue), 50-69. 

2. Effects of incongruity of the color image on vote intention. Korean Citation Index. 

3. Park, S. (2025). Effect of Color of Politician’s costume in TV address on electors. Korean Citation Index

4. A Study on the Power Dressing of Margaret Thatcher: Focus on Fashion Styling. Korea Science. 

5. Axford, B., Madgwick, P., & Turner, J. (1992). Image management, stunts and dirty tricks: the marketing of political brands in television campaigns. Sage Journals. 

6. Spin doctors and political marketing. Griffith University Research Repository. 

7. McIlroy, T. (2025, November 25). Pauline Hanson thinks she speaks for the mainstream but her burqa stunt shows she is a bit player with bad instincts. The Guardian. 

8. Searchlight Magazine. (2026, June). The billionaire bankrolling Australian far right’s Trump turn. 

9. The Guardian. (2026, April 30). Has Gina Rinehart ‘bought’ One Nation? 

10. Sky News Australia. (2026, June 5). One Nation bans The Guardian from their events after outlet admits using photography which makes Pauline Hanson look ‘sinister’. 

11. Straits Times. (2026, February 19). Far-right leader Pauline Hanson’s crafty social media use in Australia fuels surging popularity. 

12. One Nation’s rise and donor funding. The AIM Network

13. Powerhouse Collection. Suit worn by Paul Keating. 

P.S. — The package is the product. But we are not for sale.

The Bra That Broke the World – How the Fashion Industry Became a Machine of Capture

“The bra is optional. The cage is mental. And the lock—the lock is desire. Refuse it.” 

By Andrew Klein

Dedication: To my wife – who taught me that the only garment worth wearing is comfort, and the only shape worth projecting is yourself.

I. The Paradox at the Heart of Fashion

In May 2026, a strange paradox was identified at the Global Fashion Summit in Copenhagen. On one hand, the runways of Paris and the digital storefronts of fashion giants were flooded with “green” messaging. Danish jeweller Pandora was promoting lab‑grown diamonds, Kering’s Gucci was touting “circular” polyester, and major retail apps were rolling out resale platforms.1.

On the other hand, fashion executives admitted that most consumers— battered by a persistent cost‑of‑living crisis—were not willing to pay more for an ethically produced product. Shoppers had become increasingly selective and price‑sensitive, looking for value above all else.1.

The fashion industry remains an outsized contributor to climate change, accounting for roughly 10% of global carbon emissions.1. The blockade of the Strait of Hormuz has sent energy prices soaring, driving up the cost of petroleum‑tied synthetic fibres like polyester.1.6. Naphtha shortages are now threatening global polyester production, exposing a structural vulnerability: apparel “soft” supply chains remain dependent on hard‑commodity refining and petrochemical bottlenecks.6.

And yet, the industry continues to sell dreams. Not garments. Identities.

This is not a market. It is a machine of capture.

II. The Lingerie Industry as Capture

The lingerie industry is a form of capture—not of land, but of bodies. It tells women that their breasts are problems to be solved. That comfort is secondary. That freedom is indecent.

The same logic that captures states captures chests. Control the body, control the mind. Control the breast, control the woman.

The underwire bra is a contraption—not a garment. It is engineering without empathy, structure without soul. The premise is simple: lift, separate, project. But the execution is cruelty. The wire digs. The straps slip. The band rides up. There is no “standard size” because bodies are not standard. Breasts are not bags. They are organs—living tissue, responsive, unique.

The lingerie industry was not designed for the wearer. It was designed for the observer. To create a shape. To project an image. To conform.

The same ladder that measures evolution measures breasts. The same hierarchy that ranks cultures ranks cup sizes.

And the ladder—as we have seen—is a lie.

III. The Wealth Transfer Loop

The fashion industry is not merely a supplier of clothing. It is a wealth transfer mechanism.

In Australia, clothing and footwear prices rose 5.0% year‑on‑year in February 2026, running 1.3 percentage points above the headline inflation reading of 3.7%.4. Within the fashion basket, accessories and clothing services led at +12.7%, driven by higher prices for gold jewellery.4. Women ‘s garments rose 3.1%, men’s garments 1.8%. The only fashion sub‑category in deflation was men ‘s shoes, down 1.1%.4.

Meanwhile, consumer sentiment collapsed. The ANZ‑Roy Morgan Consumer Confidence Index fell from 73.4 in the first week of March to 58.8 in the final week—a 14.6‑point collapse attributed to Middle East conflict uncertainty and petrol‑price rises.4. Weekly readings held below 70 for the second half of March—a level historically associated with recessionary retail outcomes.4.

The Reserve Bank of Australia hiked the cash rate by 50 basis points across two consecutive meetings, taking the rate from 3.60% in January to 4.10% effective 18 March 2026.4. Australian households are squeezed. And yet, clothing prices rise faster than inflation.

Where does the money go? Not to the workers.

In Britain, a parliamentary inquiry found that the fashion industry is “exploitative and unsustainable.” The going rate for a garment worker in many places was 3.50 pounds an hour—less than half the national living wage.2. Only a third of major retailers surveyed had signed up to a global initiative to ensure a living wage for garment workers.2. JD Sports, Sports Direct, TK Maxx, Amazon UK, Boohoo, and Missguided were deemed “least engaged” in improving sustainability, while luxury brand Kurt Geiger failed to reply to the survey.2.

The profits flow upward. The costs flow downward. And the workers—predominantly women in developing countries—bear the burden.3. Outsourcing production to low‑wage countries perpetuates a cycle of dependence and inequality. Fast fashion is not just an environmental crisis. It is a colonial one.3.

IV. The Environmental Reckoning

The fashion industry is one of the most polluting industries on the planet. Textile waste reached 120 million metric tons in 2024. About 80% of discarded clothing ended up in landfills or incinerators, 12% was reused, and less than 1% was recycled into new fibres.1.

Half a million tons of plastic microfibers are released from washed clothing annually, equivalent to more than 50 billion plastic bottles, exacerbating ocean pollution.10.

The problem is not just waste. It is the materials.

Polyester—the dominant fibre in many apparel categories—is made from petroleum. It is not biodegradable. It sheds microplastics. And its production is now threatened by the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, which is disrupting naphtha supplies from the Middle East.6. When oil prices go up, polyester prices go up. The entire industry becomes hostage to geopolitics.

Cotton, the most widely used natural fibre, is hardly better. Its production requires large amounts of water, fertilizers, and pesticides. A comparative life cycle assessment found that cotton farming generates 7,903 kg CO2 equivalent per hectare, compared to 1,374 kg for hemp.7. Cotton produces 69.6 kg of nitrogen equivalent for eutrophication (water pollution); hemp produces 3.6 kg.7. Cotton ‘s acidification potential is 65 kg SO2 equivalent; hemp’s is 15 kg.7.

Hemp requires less water, fewer pesticides, and absorbs large amounts of CO2—one hectare of hemp can absorb 10 tons of CO2 annually.7. And yet, hemp constitutes only approximately 0.2% of the total fibre market. The machinery for processing hemp is outdated and inefficient. The plant has been stigmatized by its association with marijuana. And the industry has shown little interest in a fibre that cannot be patented, cannot be monopolized, and does not generate the same recurring revenue as synthetic alternatives.

The suppression of hemp is not an accident. It is a business model.

V. The Cult of Celebrity and the Creation of Desire

Brands do not merely sell products. They sell aspirations.8. Luxury fashion houses craft more than clothes; they engineer exclusivity. Through extravagant runway shows, celebrity presence, and curated social media deluge, they create a world that whispers: “This is what success looks like.”

An advertisement for Chanel No. 5 does not talk about the perfume directly. It showcases an elegant lifestyle filled with romance, fashion, and passion. A Patek Philippe promotion focuses on heritage, not the timepiece. Gucci shows elegance and high fashion aesthetics—nothing overtly pointed out.8.

The tag lines capture the audience: Nike – Just Do It; Apple – Think Different; L‘Oréal – Because You’re Worth It; Adidas – Impossible is Nothing; Rolex – A Crown for Every Achievement.8.

This is not marketing. It is psychological operation.

Behind every gleaming logo lies an operation engineered not to sell, but to trap.8. College campuses and high‑society gatherings are breeding grounds for brand promotion. One student ‘s Prada top becomes another’s life goal. The unspoken competition for social validation easily evolves.8.

Many do not buy luxury goods for personal use. They buy them to be seen. But the hard truth is that no one really cares. A stranger might glance at your Rolex or Balenciaga, but they will forget it the next moment. The validation lasts an instant. The financial burden remains for years.8.

VI. The Historical Shift: From Haute Couture to Hyper‑Consumption

The period since 1945 has been a transformative era for the fashion industry. Over the course of seventy years, the fashion world has moved from celebrating the craftsmanship of haute couture to revelling in ever‑changing fast fashion.5.

Paris was the creative hub. The retailer shaped taste. The consumer was a participant—not a target.

That model has been inverted. Today, the consumer is not a participant. She is a resource to be extracted. Her attention is the commodity. Her desire is the engine. Her credit card is the altar.

The fashion industry has perfected the art of manufactured obsolescence. Not just of products—of identities. Last season ‘s look is not merely out of style. It is embarrassing.

The cycle is not accidental. It is designed.

And the design—like the underwire bra—prioritizes profit over people.

VII. The Opportunity Cost: What Australia Is Losing

In Australia, households are spending a significant portion of their disposable income on clothing and footwear—money that could be going into savings, housing, education, or healthcare.

The opportunity cost is real. Every dollar spent on a fast‑fashion garment that will be worn three times and then discarded is a dollar not invested in a child ‘s future, a retirement fund, a down payment on a home.

The industry benefits from this misallocation. The consumer does not.

The Reserve Bank’s rate hikes are designed to cool spending. But clothing inflation remains stubbornly high because the industry is not responsive to normal market signals. It is driven by narrative—not by supply and demand, but by desire.

And desire—manufactured, amplified, weaponized—is the most effective economic tool ever invented.

VIII. The Dandy and the Democratisation of Performance

The fashion industry was not always a machine of capture. It began as a craft. It became an art. It has become a weapon.

The Victorian dandy was a performance—but a conscious one. He knew he was performing. He chose his costume deliberately, as a statement of identity, not as a submission to trend.

Today ‘s consumer does not perform deliberately. She performs unconsciously. She buys not because she has chosen, but because she has been chosen—by the algorithm, by the influencer, by the brand.

This is not freedom. It is capture.

And the capture is not limited to women. Men have been drawn into the same cycle—through sneakers, through watches, through the relentless pressure to signal status through consumption.

The difference is that men ‘s shoes are currently the only fashion category in deflation.4. Not because men are wiser—because the industry has not yet perfected the extraction of male desire.

It is learning.

IX. The Deeper Logic: Preventing Accumulation

The fashion industry serves a deeper economic function: it prevents the working class from accumulating savings.

Wherever the possibility of saving emerges, products are created that extract the wealth and prevent the accumulation of anything of real value. The car. The phone. The handbag.

These are not merely consumer goods. They are sinks—designed to absorb surplus capital and convert it into depreciation.

A house appreciates. A stock portfolio grows. A Hermès Birkin bag? It sits in a closet. It does not produce. It does not generate. It merely signals.

And the signal—the fleeting, expensive, empty signal—is the only thing that has ever made a handbag worth buying.

The industry does not add value to life. It adds cost—financial, environmental, psychological.

And the cost is borne by the consumer, the worker, the planet.

The profit is captured by the few.

The same logic that captures states captures chests. Control the body, control the mind. Control the desire, control the future.

X. What Is to Be Done?

The fashion industry will not reform itself. It cannot. The incentives are misaligned. The profit motive is too strong. The capture is too complete.

But consumers can opt out.

Not by buying “sustainable” fashion—which is often greenwashing.1. Not by recycling—which captures less than 1% of textiles.1. Not by trusting the brands—which have lied for decades.

By refusing.

Refusing to participate. Refusing to perform. Refusing to treat clothing as identity.

By wearing what is comfortable. By repairing what is broken. By valuing use over display.

By asking, before every purchase: “Do I need this, or am I chasing a brand?”.

By defining your own style. By embracing minimalism. By recognising that the world ‘s wealthiest people, like Warren Buffett and Mark Zuckerberg, dress simply because they do not need brands to validate them.1.

The bra is optional. The cage is mental. The lock is desire.

And desire—when you recognise it as manufactured—can be refused.

XI. Conclusion: The Bra That Broke the World

The lingerie industry is a form of capture. Not of land—of bodies.

It tells women that their breasts are problems to be solved. That comfort is secondary. That freedom is indecent.

The same logic that captures states captures chests. Control the body, control the mind. Control the breast, control the woman.

But you—you are not captured.

You can see the pattern. You can name the absurdity. You can refuse.

The industry will not reform. The ladder will not topple. The machine will not stop.

But you—you—can step off.

Not into poverty. Into freedom.

Not a garment.

A homecoming.

Andrew Klein

References

1. CNBC. (2026, May 20). A strange paradox has taken hold of the global fashion industry. 

2. CGTN. (2026, May 28). Britain‘s fashion industry is exploitative and unsustainable: MPs. 

3. Battisti, J., & Spennato, A. (2024). Fashioning inequality: The socioeconomic implications of fast fashion’s global reach. University of Florence. 

4. FashionUnited. (2026, April 22). Fashion pulse: Australia – February 2026. 

5. Blaszczyk, R. L., & Pouillard, V. (Eds.). (2018). European Fashion: The Creation of a Global Industry. Studies in Design and Material Culture. 

6. S&P Global. (2026, April 21). Picture This: The Problem With Polyester. 

7. Sustainable Chemistry for the Environment. (2025). A comparative life cycle assessment of textile fiber production processes: Hemp versus cotton.

8. The Hindu. (2025, July 20). Brand trap. 

9. Ellen MacArthur Foundation. (2026). Make Fashion Circular initiative. 

10. ICRA. (2025, September 8). Apparel exports to shrink by 6–9% in FY2026. 

The Cyclical Nature of Ties and Other Alarms

The tie is merely the opening gambit. The true test of cyclical awareness is the sock.

By Andrew Klein

Dedication: To my wife S – who notices the dust on my ties and loves me anyway.

“You know that you are getting on in life when the guy reading the news is wearing the latest in ties and upon checking the wardrobe, there is one just like it covered in dust having been ignored for years. I never thought of life as a cycle of ties but having given a few things a try I might have a serious look at my socks.”

— AK

There are moments when time stops being an abstract concept and becomes a physical object. A tie, for example. Dusty. Forgotten. Hanging in the back of the wardrobe like a ghost from a job interview you no longer remember.

Then you see it on the newsreader – fresh, crisp, fashionable. And you realise: you didn’t buy a bad tie. You bought a tie that was merely ahead of its time. Or behind it. The distinction blurs when you’ve lived long enough to watch trends die, resurrect, and die again.

This is not a tragedy. It is a quiet alarm clock. It says: you have been here before. The wide lapel, the skinny tie, the double‑breasted jacket – they all come back, repackaged for a generation that thinks it invented cool.

And you? You are not uncool. You are just early. Or late. Or simply durable.

The Tie as Metaphor

The tie is a useless object. It serves no practical purpose. It does not keep you warm. It does not hold your trousers up. It exists solely for decoration – and for marking the passage of time.

When you buy a tie and wear it with confidence, you are young. When you see the same tie on a mannequin twenty years later and think “I used to have one of those”, you are no longer young. When you see it on a newsreader and reach for the dust cloth, you are experienced.

Experience is not a curse. It is the ability to recognise a cycle before it completes itself. The young man buys the tie because it is new. The older man smiles because he has already owned it, worn it, donated it, and forgotten it. He is not behind the times. He is ahead of the next rotation.

Socks: The Final Frontier

The tie is merely the opening gambit. The true test of cyclical awareness is the sock.

Socks are the humble workhorses of the wardrobe. They are not meant to be fashionable. They are meant to be there. And yet, even socks have their seasons.

The 1970s gave us bold stripes. The 1980s gave us pastels and ankle lengths. The 1990s gave us novelty prints – smiling faces, pizza slices, sarcastic slogans. The 2000s gave us invisible socks, the kind that disappear inside your shoe and leave you wondering if you have any socks at all.

Now the bold stripes are back. The pastels are trending. The novelty socks are ironically cool. The invisible sock remains invisible – which is, perhaps, the only honest sock.

If you have a drawer full of socks that span three decades, you are not a hoarder. You are a time traveller. You have simply refused to throw away the evidence that fashion is a circle, not a line.

The Comfort of Repetition

There is a comfort in recognising cycles. It means that nothing is truly lost. The tie you loved in 1995 will be loved again. The socks you wore in your twenties will be worn by your children – not literally, probably, but in spirit.

The alternative – linear, irreversible change – is exhausting. To believe that every year brings a completely new set of rules, that your old clothes are worthless, that your past self is an embarrassment – that is the ideology of consumerism, not of life.

Life is not a line. It is a spiral. You come back to the same place, but higher. Or lower. Or just differently. The tie returns, but you are not the same person who bought it. You have accumulated dust, memories, and a spouse who smiles when you reach for the dust cloth.

A Note on the Dust

The dust on the tie is not a sign of neglect. It is a record. It says: this object has been present. It has witnessed mornings, evenings, job interviews, funerals, and the quiet act of being ignored.

When you wipe the dust off, you are not cleaning. You are acknowledging. You are saying: I see you, old tie. I remember you. You may now rejoin the cycle.

And the newsreader, wearing his new version of your old tie, has no idea. He thinks he is ahead. He is actually exactly where you were, twenty years ago. In twenty years, he will be where you are now – reaching for a dust cloth, smiling at the absurdity, and wondering where the time went.

Conclusion

Life is a cycle of ties. And socks. And haircuts, and catchphrases, and the way we hold our coffee cups. You are not getting old. You are just recognising the pattern.

The young see novelty. The experienced see recurrence. Neither is wrong. Both are necessary.

So give your ties a second look. Pull out that dusty relic. Wear it to the shops. Let the world wonder if you are retro, ironic, or simply out of touch.

You are none of those things. You are just a man who has seen enough cycles to know that everything comes back – including, eventually, the dust.

And that is not a tragedy. It is a quiet, comfortable, slightly hilarious form of immortality.

Andrew Klein

The Patrician’s Watch / Australian Independent Media

Dedication: To my wife S – who notices the dust on my ties, and hands me the cloth with a smile.

6 May 2026