Among the best arguments for city living since Deliverance is the delight that it brings small dogs. This is brought home to me three times a day when my endearing big-eyed spaniel begins his exercises (scratch my knee, bark, repeat 20 times). Like all other dogs, he wants to socialize.
A Cavalier King Charles is a designer dog. We chose the breed for its loving temperament, but they're so incredibly cute that you want to dress them in ridiculous outfits that match the colors of your own clothes. We resist, but others in our neighborhood don't. (If you've never seen a Cavalier, think of Lady in Lady and the Tramp. The movie says she's a cocker spaniel, but she's really a Cavalier.)
The cuter the dog, the more it functions as a fashion accessory. One wonders exactly what the dog's friends think of such human eccentricities. Certainly they gossip. Ours is so keen on the news that he checks every corner, curb, sign post, and hydrant for messages and then leaves one of his own. Seeing other dogs in the flesh is even better.
Living in the suburbs as an only dog is a canine equivalent of meditating in a cave in the Himalayas. But of course few dogs--except for the praying dog at http://www.davesdaily.com/pictures/690-adorable.htm--show much sign of spiritual insight. Nosirree. Dogs aren't cut out for monastic life either. You can confirm this in any dog run.
Nor does doggie fashion hold much interest for them, seeing as they're more focused on smell than sight. However, dogs do have eyes. In their eyes, your role in life is to help them circulate in society.
So no matter what you and your dog are wearing, face it: You're leash candy.