The Monopoly Man, Rich Uncle Pennybags, ought to have one but doesn’t. The villainous Penguin fights the Batman wearing a monocle. Joseph Conrad had one, as did Yeats and Auden. So did Woodrow Wilson and Otto von Bismarck. Read: The New York Times resurrects the monocle, a century after trashing it Aristocratic, yes, but cold and calculating, filled with menace. Or else, the monocle-wearer is a sinister European gentleman. It drops from his eye to mark astonishment at a breach of manners or an abrupt revelation. He peers through its single lens to project a critical gaze at a work of art or perhaps a raffish orphan given into his care.
It’s a visual shorthand for a stock character: a wealthy gentleman with the air of a Gilded Age aristocrat ready for a black-tie gala or a night at the opera. In the present day, a monocle is almost always part of a costume. A monocle perches on the face, precariously unsupported, requiring effort and practice just to keep it in place. One eye is magnified and obscured, while the other looks naked. Why would anyone want this? I’ll admit to owning a tweed blazer (or seven), but when it comes to retro men’s fashion accessories, monocles are on another level of affectedness.
MONOCLE MONOPOLY MAN FULL
It showed an earnest young man with a full beard, waxed mustache, period clothing, and the anachronistic piece of eyewear. The ad probably appeared because I had visited too many over-specialized menswear websites. Recently, a Facebook ad tried to sell me a monocle.