If someone points at your black clothes and asks you whose funeral is it, a look around the room and a casual “haven’t decided yet” is always a good response.
George R.R. Martin goes up to the counter and orders a series of incredibly complicated drinks, each more detailed and layered than the last. The barista works for an hour and finally hands them across the counter to Martin, who promptly throws one of them away with little to no explanation. That coffee had been the barista’s favorite.