You are shipwrecked.
A freak out of season typhoon popped up and scuttled your ultra-modern long distance canoe, 2/3rds of the way through yet another circumnavigation of the globe. "It was just 1200 miles to Auckland," you mutter ruefully as you sit on an unknown atoll in the south Pacific, dining on half-rotten coconuts and making small crabs fight each other to pass the time.
Three weeks later you are rescued by a luxurious ocean liner owned by the extremely effete heir to a bobby pin empire. He gives you access to a shower, his personal barber, and the most kickass cutting edge threads that look stupid now but will be super badass in like a year.