Last week I was cycling down Sherbrooke Street, dutifully wearing the never cute but always lifesaving bike helmet, when I passed a group of dapper young men in their late twenties or early thirties. They were wearing suits and standing in front of a church--presumably there had been a wedding. I found myself lingering, watching: there was something undeniably sexy about this Moores ad come to life. Why was a shirt and tie (and a well-fitted suit, mind you) suddenly such a turn-on? I used to like boys in hooded sweatshirts. I checked myself as I sat on my bike with my clipped-up pant cuffs, a young lady of twentysomething, gallivanting around town in a sailor-boy black and white striped shirt (with boat neck). I knew myself to be fanciful and free, a happy girl, a single girl, a girl who likes the idea of shopping around. But then these ...