“White J’s, white Porsche, white wrist, white horse,” raps a 15-year-old Ms Danielle Bregoli in her 2017 hit “Hi Bich”. Fresh off her viral notoriety as the teenage tearaway who threatened a booing Dr Phil audience to “cash me outside, how bout dah?”, Bregoli quickly turned a bad reputation as a meme-worthy chat-show disaster into a bona fide rap career as Bhad Bhabie.

In the song’s video, she wears a white wedding dress with a veil over her head like the Virgin Mary, while perched in the back of a convertible white Porsche that is being pulled, as though it were a carriage, by a white stallion. “Hi bitch, hi bitch, hi bitch, hi bitch,” she trills.

It’s a fascinating visual and lyrical juxtaposition, because white traditionally represents purity, innocence or an adherence to a religion, but in Bregoli’s world, it means something else: wealth. White in the material world, whether it’s a horse in a music video, a sports car, diamonds on a watch or a pair of box-fresh Jordans, is a marker of status.

And when it comes to clothes, all white is an extreme look that remains unblemished only when it’s worn by the Kendall Roys of the world, people who are free to be chauffeured from place to place and have no need to worry about anything as pedestrian as braving the grimy gauntlet of public transport. Hi bitch, indeed.

All-white clothing also happens to be one of the most notable menswear trends for AW22. Vetements showed bright white tailoring, while Zegna, Auralee and Jil Sander all sent out looks in varying shades of white, ecru, cream and ivory, white chore jackets worn over beige tailoring to create a kind of timelessly ecclesiastical effect that still felt contemporary.

It was probably my favourite trend, partly because it all seemed so perfectly unwearable. Who in their right mind would choose to put on an outfit that would cause a cortisol spike at every mealtime? But as someone whose wardrobe is about 80 per cent black and 15 per cent navy, I couldn’t shake the idea that I was missing out on something, that wearing all white might open up a new world of getting dressed, a way to look elegant and sophisticated that isn’t trying too hard. It’s also the shade best suited to warm weather and, with summer on the way, perhaps now was the time to try it out.

Messrs Timothée Chalamet, Donald Glover, Jared Leto and Wiz Khalifa are just a few of the names who have rocked white suits on the red carpet and have looked invariably incredible doing so. Beyond the world of film premieres and Met Galas, though, how realistic is wearing white?

I started to daydream about the possibilities as I scrolled through MR PORTER. Here were so many great-looking white clothes, but could I wear them in real life? I pitched the idea to my editor – me wearing white for a week to trial the trend – and to my surprise was sent home with a suitcase full of fancy white clothes, a deadline and the impossible promise that I bring everything back in immaculate condition.

I get home from the office and unzip the suitcase in my living room. It is a trove of alabaster magic: a brilliant-white canvas twill jacket with green stitching from Bottega Veneta, a pair of incredible billowing cream trousers from Barena, a lily-white shirt from Erdem with broderie anglaise detailing, an ivory Raf Simons sweater with dangerously baggy sleeves that will surely get accidentally dipped in something before the week is up.

I fall in love with a bone-coloured T-shirt from The Row, which retails for £350. It feels so comfortable and is cut into such a satisfyingly slouchy silhouette that I could sleep in it if only I weren’t so afraid of sweating on it.

The next morning, I shower and change into my new white clothes. I pointedly do not make a cup of tea. I catch the train to the office and am in a state of hyperawareness. I have a newfound superpower for noticing hazards such as food, dogs and children. I go to the pub with friends and wince as a cigarette wanders too close to my snow-white BODE trousers that are embellished with tiny, colourful beads.

As the week goes on, I begin to relax into it. I laugh in the face of danger and go to a Korean restaurant. “Oh wow! Nice suit, man,” the owner says with genuine wonder in his eyes, perhaps because he knows that one careless flick of gochujang will put me out of commission. Still, I make it home unscathed and drink a glass of red wine. I feel like Ms Gwyneth Paltrow wearing white without an apron in her devastating kitchen. I am practically invincible.

The concerns I have about wearing white involve more than just the practicalities. There’s the overall effect to worry about, one that can have you looking like you are cosplaying a religious fanatic, a medical professional or a sleazy Miami DJ. Or that the lack of colour will just wash you out, especially when you’re as pale as I am. The solution to both these things, I found, was to mix white tones together.

A modest beige and sparkling white will complement each other excellently, while off-white, cream and beige are all neutral enough to look good when worn together. The clothes I come to cherish are the ones with slightly warmer tones. They are less prone to grime and disaster, but they are also more flattering.

At the end of the week, I’m relieved to take it all off. Throwing on my familiar black Dickies trousers and a black hoodie feels like stepping into a warm bath. When Charlie, our brilliant fashion co-ordinator, takes the suitcase off my hands, I am relieved that I am no longer responsible for it.

Still, I think something fundamental in me has changed. White feels much less unrealistic than it once did and I plan to wear much more of it this summer. Nothing beats the impact of a pair of well-cut white trousers in the sunshine.

Before I get too optimistic, though, reality hits with a splash. As I’m writing this, I stop to peel a clementine and my thumb cuts too far into the flesh, spraying yellow juice all over my (thankfully, not The Row) white T-shirt. I spend the next five minutes over the bathroom sink dousing myself in water. That’s no way for a man to live.

The fashion designer Mr Yohji Yamamoto, who is known for making mostly black clothes, once said that “black is modest and arrogant at the same time. Black is lazy and easy. But above all, black says this: ‘I don’t bother you; don’t bother me.’” So what does white say? The dry-cleaning bill will bankrupt me?

Now that I’ve spent so much time wearing it, it’s something I’ve been trying to figure out. White likes to flaunt itself in a polished kind of way. It’s also lazy and easy, but it feels more confident and at ease than black does.

After a week of getting accustomed to the deafening consciousness of wearing it all the time, I think I can almost hear it whispering, “White J’s, white Porsche, white wrist, white horse. Hi bitch, hi bitch, hi bitch, hi bitch…”