My niece was baptized at the very small parish church of a very small town on the coast of Rhode Island. The chapel stood on a hill overlooking Narragansett Bay, with cedar shingles and a white steeple, framed by bursts of pink flowers. When my brother asked me to be her godfather, I had instinctively reached for the closet to make sure I’d dry-cleaned my navy-blue blazer. Now, as I stepped inside, it was a comfort to know that I looked like I cared about what I was walking into. As my grandmother often reminded me, “There is a time and a place for everything.”

Conversely, the navy blazer — what some erroneously call a “sports coat” — can dress up almost any occasion that doesn’t require pants that match a jacket. Mine is cut from wool that’s dyed a dark, nautical blue and single-breasted

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