I blame it on the North Carolinians

I mean, really, did you think I would have come up with the idea by myself? Me, the Korean-British-whatever, snap my fingers and say, "I know what, I'll wear seersucker and drink Jack Daniels and ginger ale all day!"

No, it was definitely not my idea. It was a bunch of North Carolinians who turned up one day around the other corner of the bar where I was, upon hearing me ordering a gin and tonic, and shook their heads, wagged their fingers into my bewildered face, and said, "You ought to have a Jack Daniels."
"Really? I've never tried that, to be honest," I said, by way of starting an explanation that I do not normally drink 'heavy' stuff (not at this stage in my life anyway, since my liver has started pleading for its own), but the North Carolinians took this statement to be a blunt put down of their drink.
"But Jack Daniels is the best on a day like this," they said. "Try it."
The bartender raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged my shoulders.
"Jack and coke?" he asked. I was about to say, "Whatever - I don't usually drink this stuff," when the North Carolinians butted in again: "Jack and ginger is much lighter stuff.""Yeah, not so sweet.""That's a real summer drink."
"You see," my new-found friends began, as I started sucking the amber liquid through the straw (as unseemly as it is, I detest icecubes and my glass was heavy with ice, leaving me with no choice but to use the straw), "You're meant to be wearing seersucker while sipping Jack and ginger on a hot summer's day." "Or mint julep." "But at the Kentucky Derby, mind. That's good mint julep.""And it is the best thing for summer, don't you think?"
"It's a very nice drink," I said, nodding.

Somehow the idea lodged itself so tightly in my brain that the next time I ordered a drink I ended up asking for a Jack and ginger. Then I saw a seersucker skirt, and bought it. I wore it on a bright sunny day during the Independence Day holiday to go for lunch with M. But M.'s friends called to suggest a game of pitch and putt (translation: golf for idiots, not quite children) and I ended up on a golf course, wearing a pink and white seersucker Grace Kelly skirt with a red handbag and sandals. I could not have looked more ridiculous.
"I see you aim to be stylish when you play golf," M.'s friend Q. said, as he moved away from my swing - which I was attempting with the bag slung across my right shoulder.
"Yes," I said.
"And you accessorise, too, with the handbag! Nice touch!" he said. I tried not to think about what I looked like on the green. Focus, focus, focus on the ball, don't lift your head up, relax your knees, swing without stopping. It was the last hole, a short distance to the flag, but in my nervous concentration I ended up hitting the ball out of the course - a fair hundred yards? Two men on the putting green nearly got hit.

After that, I really needed a Jack and ginger.