While my impaired self-image still conceives of myself as a willowy fop just lithe enough to slip into the jelly-filled cockpit of a giant mechanized fighting robot, the reality is that I have a build that has been increasingly described as “burly.” Rather than crying about (more), I’ve learned to embrace my hulk, despite the fact that my ever-widening chest makes me look like the sort of guy who would split a forest of logs before breakfast while singing show tunes with a gravel that would make Patrick Warburton sound like Paul Lynde.

That’s why I love wearing pink. The visual incongruence is delicious. I’ve got a huge, fluffy pink-and-white knit scarf that never fails to elicit comment from wives and girlfriends, cooing that they think it’s “so great that you have the confidence to pull off pink.” I don’t have all that much confidence, actually; I’ve just learned that wearing pink gives the illusion of confidence. “Fake it ’til you make it” continues to pay dividends.

But you can go overboard. And this Paul Smith formal jacket, available for the better part of a grand, is teetering. Not because of the color or the cut, both of which cry out for a night at the craps table, but because of the god damned price. I haven’t taken a hard line on this before, but as I’m broke as hell these days I’m finding the ludicrous cost of pre-cut formal wear to be annoying. You’re telling me Chinese laborers are nimble enough to build a laptop but they can’t make a sport jacket with moderately quality materials and cut for under a couple bills? My pink ass.

My favorite light pink trend of the last couple of years, aborted almost as soon as it bubbled up (as far as I can tell), was the all-pink get-ups of some of the black street kids in Brooklyn, typical outsized, baggy sweatsuits with matching headbands and cocked ball caps all in baby girl pink. That is how you wear it.

The point: Don’t be afraid of pink, especially as complements in an outfit. One of you is going to wear a pink seersucker suit to a party this summer and look like a Grade A baller.