Should a man's wallet match his shoes or his truck?

My old Coach wallet has served me well for the last decade. Originally tan in color, it has mellowed to a beautiful shade that designers would probably refer to as “cognac” but that I call “bourbon.” It fits my butt perfectly. It has some tears and a few holes, but I’ve mended them with silver duct tape. I figure if duct tape will protect me from a terrorist attack then it ought to be able to hold my wallet together.

When I drove the old Volvo I was perfectly content with the old Coach. It gave off a whiff of “tight old money” and an “I don’t give a damn” vibe. People seemed to accept and understand it when I drove an old Volvo. But that’s all changed now that I drive a truck. Expectations have shifted. I’m learning that a truck and a duct-taped wallet just don’t send an eccentric message. People don’t laugh; they wince. They don’t envision Virginia Hunt Country. They see country West Virginia.

So it’s ironic that this surfaced when I was in New York this week for a meeting about messaging. Picture it. I'm at a lunch with some concert promoters. We're at a hip vegetarian restaurant in the West Village talking about how to get climate change messages across to twenty-somethings, how to "green" a concert, and whether or not we can encourage young musicians to become environmental spokespersons. Good food. Good karma. The ideas were flowing and I'm on my game, baby, on my game. At the end of the meal, all the guys pull out their big wallets and throw cash and credit cards on the table. That’s when it happens. I'm called out on my wallet by a colleague who knows about my truck. He tries to make a joke about it, but I sense the New Yorkers don't get it. I wonder if my stock is dropping.

At the end of the day, I rendezvous with Michael and we wallet shop. The Coach store now caters almost entirely to women, so I won't shop there. I see a good looking orange leather Hermes wallet, but I just can't justify the $950 price tag. Dunhill is selling some very attractive dark chocolate brown leather wallets, but they only accommodate one credit card and a $20 bill. Everything else looks blah.

I leave New York with an uncomfortable wallet in my back pocket and no better sense of what an appropriate wallet would be for a man who wears loafers and drives a big Ford truck.

Flash forward to an unseasonably warm January night in Washington. People are jogging in shorts and I'm wandering the streets determined to solve my dilemna. Wallets at Universal Gear are trying too hard to be hip and they have too many compartments. The options at Lacoste are nice. I'm a big fan of the alligator, but the primary color options just aren't sitting right with me -- I suppose they're just not classically peppy enough. The second hand jeans store has some neat vintage 70's wallets. Alas, they're a tad too "hippy" for my tastes. Wallets at Patagonia use way too much velcro.

The Ralph Lauren Store on Wisconsin Avenue is my last resort. Ralph serves up a contemporary, masculine, classic look that I like and that I look good in -- sans logo, of course. I peruse wallets that look like rep stripe ties and I finger wallets made of grey flannel and of lizard skin. I'm about to give up when I spot it. A tan canvas number with a darker leather border and interior. A classic two-fold without polo pony.

A handsome young sales guy with a dazzling smile and an athletic butt lets me hold it. I bounce it up and down, weighing its heft and squeezing it a bit. It feels damn good in my hand and it slips easily into my back pocket. I could get used to this. When I ask why it's marked down from $135 to $49, the sales guy just shakes his shaggy head and tells me it hasn't been selling well. Then, flashing me a sly grin, he digs down into his pants and hauls his out -- it's the same wallet. I show him mine and I can see in his green eyes how badly he wants to touch it. So I let him. As he plays with it, I ask him whether a man's wallet ought to match his shoes or his truck. Without pause, he says "both." Then he points out that I'm wearing tan shoes and a suede jacket which is a great look if you drive a truck in Georgetown. He's right. After all, he does work for Ralph Lauren. It's the perfect wallet. The look is right. The messaging is on target. Dilemna solved.

One footnote. The sales guy asks what I'm gonna do with the old wallet and if he can have it. For a minute I think this is a come-on. He has been flirtatious. But more likely he wants to take it to Ralph and suggest duct taped wallets for next fall's line. The store is already selling vintage, used-looking leather belts -- why not wallets? I turn him down and keep the wallet. But, I wouldn't be surprised if Ralph Lauren is featuring beat up, duct-taped wallets in the near future.