I was wandering the aisles of a high-end department store, examining everything from overcoats to pinky rings, when a salesperson approached me for the tenth time.

"Let me know if you have any questions."

"Okay," I said. "Why do you call the store Saks Fifth Avenue, when it's on Wilshire Boulevard?"

The young salesman opened his mouth, but just made a clicking noise, followed by an ambiguous "Umm."

I meant it to be funny, but I was fired-up and preoccupied with Henry's new Rolex, so I probably just sounded like an asshole. A moderately-wealthy, entitled asshole. Fortunately, that's a demographic that Saks caters to specifically.

"Never mind," I said, feeling guilty. "Actually, I'm looking to buy a little gift for myself. Something nice, but not too expensive. But not too cheap, either. And… noticeable. You know? Something flashy."

"How about a watch? We have a terrific selection –"

"No," I said. "It can't be a watch. But it can literally be anything else. I'm open to ideas."

The sales kid listed every department in the store, from casualwear ("Velour track suits are the thing right now") to earrings ("We have some that are clip-on"), to footwear ("Gucci suede cowboy boots, how's that for noticeable?").

We decided that a new pair of shoes or a belt might do the trick. "But it has to be noticeable," I emphasized to Brian the salesperson, as he navigated us through the store to the correct department. "And… expensive."

"You want to show off, but not look like you're showing off. Right?" Brian said in a low, conspiratorial tone. "Don't worry, it's my specialty. Okay, let's find you something snazzy."

Snazzy – Brian understood. I felt like I was in good hands.

After a few trips to the changing room, I had it down to two choices: a purple alligator-leather Louboutin belt with an oversized brass buckle, or a pair of tobacco brown soft-leather Berluti Scritto dress loafers. Both were expensive. The belt was definitely flashier (snazzier), but I really preferred the shoes.

I was about to take the loafers to checkout, when a twinkle of light from across the store caught my eye. I squinted at a distant display, but I couldn't see the product. All I saw was a color: a pure, vivid orange.

I was staring, transfixed, when an exaggerated gasp from Brian woke me from my daydream. "A Vicchady tie!" he exclaimed. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that? It's perfect. Want to take a look?"

The dazzling orange display pulled me toward it, like a siren's song drawing in a sailor. Brian was at my heels, explaining the details of the product as we approached:

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"Each necktie is pure Georgette silk, hand-stitched in Milan with a single-origin dye. I'm sure you've noticed the signature orange-crepe patterning."

We were at the display and a Vicchady tie was in my hand: soft, rich silk that felt like it had been bathed in lotion. The body of the tie was deep black with a frenetic orange drizzle-pattern on top, like a Day-Glo Jackson Pollock.

"Every Vicchady tie is unique – no two patterns are the same," Brian said. "That's why each one is considered a one-of-a-kind work of art. And, priced accordingly."

If ever a necktie belonged in a museum, it was the one I held in my hand. The color itself was impossible to describe – it was orange, but it was something more. It wasn't carrot-orange, or Palm-Springs-orange, or American-cheese-orange. It was an orange that sparkled and winked and burned. It changed color in the light, like fish scale or oil on water.

"The color, it's…"

"I know," Brian said. "The color and style are exclusive to Vicchady - almost impossible to reproduce. You'll never see a convincing Vicchady knockoff."

I checked the price; the Vicchady tie cost more than the loafers and the belt combined. But it was perfect. I decided to have it gift-wrapped, so I could open it again later and admire the glowing orange beauty.

Before I left Saks, I also bought a Prada bathrobe for Denise, which I secretly hoped would distract her from the price tag on my Vicchady tie.

It didn't work. Denise wasn't happy about the tie. Even after I explained that it was a one-of-a-kind work of art, my wife was unimpressed.

"I mean, the robe is lovely. Thank you, Marsh," she said as we ate dinner. "And you deserve to treat yourself also, but -"

"I know it sounds like it cost a lot, but it was actually a great deal," I realized that I sounded just like Henry. "Besides, that paycheck was just the first of many. Henry and I will take more profits before the end of the summer."

"I'm glad things are going well," Denise put her fork down and pushed her plate away. "You sound very confident about things. The future of the business and everything."

"I am. I feel really good," I poured myself a third glass of wine. "Our clients have… deep pockets."

It always bothered me that I wasn't able to tell Denise the truth about our 'clients.' As far as my wife knew, Henry and I were just good defense lawyers who opened a practice together. Denise assumed that our wealthy clients were just average, run-of-the-mill rich jackasses who needed good attorneys. She was never a fan of Henry's - she said that working in the entertainment industry taught her how to spot a malignant narcissist - but she supported my decision to go into business for myself and start Marshall / Todd.

"I mean," I continued. "I was nervous when I left the DA's office. That was a nice, steady job. But now, it looks like that risk is finally starting to pay off."

I imagined Henry's face when I showed up at work tomorrow wearing the tie. Surely, he'd recognize the trademark orange splatter-pattern, and know that it was a Vicchady. He'll know how much one costs. It was a bit less than a Rolex, but still. I wonder what he'll say? He'll probably be impressed, and then angry because he's impressed. And then envious, just like I was…

I snapped my out of my daydream when I saw that Denise was looking at me from across the table with concern.

"I just don't want us getting carried away," she said. "We're very fortunate - we've always lived well, always had enough money. It's great that you're making more now, but let's use that extra to make our lives better. You know? Easier. Use it for travel, or save more for retirement."

"We'll have enough to do all of that! There's plenty more coming in."

"Great," Denise's smile was half-hearted. "But let's not waste it on stupid shit. Okay?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but she was right. The tie was ridiculous and outrageously overpriced, but that was kind of the point. The thought of rubbing Henry's face in a recklessly expensive purchase made me giddy with anticipation.