I once had a boyfriend who couldn’t write unless he was wearing a necktie and a dress shirt, which I thought was really weird, because this was a long time ago, and no one I knew ever wore dress shirts, let alone neckties it was like he was a grown-up reenacter or something.

Orlean uses a small, comic anecdote to show how writers (and would‑be writers) often rely on ritual and costume to summon a “working self.” The boyfriend’s necktie and dress shirt function like a prop in a private performance: by dressing as a stereotypical adult professional, he tries to manufacture seriousness, discipline, or authority at the desk. Orlean’s bemused tone—calling him a “grown-up reenacter”—gently punctures the idea that creativity is inherently tied to outward markers of respectability. The quote also hints at generational and cultural shifts in dress norms, making the ritual feel even more theatrical and out of place.