Once upon a time, Tom Wolfe, who passed away on Tuesday at the age of 88, did not wear white suits, just as he did not always write like Tom Wolfe. But when he discovered his indelible look much the way he discovered his indelible journalistic voice—almost by accident: all the newspapermen in New York wore suits, and the only suit young Tom Wolfe had was the white one that everyone from his hometown of Richmond, Virginia wore—he really played it up. The more his words became punctuated with exaggeration and “Kandy-Kolored” ornament, the more his look was accessorized with top hats, canes, silk shirts, colorful handkerchiefs, and dandyish tailoring. He was the rare writer who really looked like his writing—no small accomplishment. Here, revisit some of Wolfe’s finest moments as the man in white. We know what he’ll be buried in.