Thursday, April 10, 2008

A Lawyer's Guide to the Sartorial Arts

Many of our readers are law students about to be thrust upon high society for the first time. The following essay gives some fairly straightforward advice on how to dress.

A Lawyer's Guide to the Sartorial Arts

Once upon a time, when the world was civilized, gentlemen rarely dressed themselves. Surrounded by valets and manservants, a gentleman needed only to extend his arms to be bedecked in sartorial splendor, like Snow White being dressed by bluebirds.

These days, trained bluebirds are hard to find, and a well-heeled valet almost impossible. The man of today must select his wardrobe himself. This is often a daunting task. Invitations are frequently murky, using strange code-words like "come as you are." What if you customarily read your mail in the nude? While wearing fisherman's waders? If you receive the invitation at a renaissance fair, are you expected to wear your wimple? These questions, and more, confront the gentleman new to society.

The first step, of course, is to consult a higher power. Turn around, observing the room closely. Do you see a woman of any description? Is it possible that she is your wife? If so, your problems are solved. Consign yourself into her hands with the faith of a newborn child.

If you appear to be unmarried, is it feasible to acquire a wife before the event? Sound marriages have been founded on less. Many a lifelong attachment has been formed when a good-natured young lady took into hand a gentleman wearing a black belt with brown trousers. An historical anecdote: the late President Herbert Hoover routinely wore his underwear on the outside of his clothing, until he was taken in hand just before an important fundraiser. Afterwards, he wore her underwear, but on the inside. This was a sufficient change to win him the presidency.

If you are unable to secure a spouse, you will have to go it alone. The first step is to examine the invitation. Often, key information will be printed on the bottom of the card. If your invitation is verbal, it is acceptable to ask the hostess. If you have not received an invitation, you are a soulless gate-crasher and will burn in Emily Post's private hell. Her pitchfork may be sterling, but the tines are sharp.

Once you know what your hosts expect, it's just a question of interpreting the sartorial code. This will present no problems for a professor of semiology. For others, the task may be more difficult. Let's take a look at some of the most common dress codes.

"Informal/Casual"

Where appropriate: Barbeques, Nascar Races, Bear Baiting

This generally means "wear anything." Shorts or jeans are probably fine. Some rules of decorum may still apply, depending on your hostess. If your hostess is ladylike, casual slacks and an oxford shirt should be acceptable. If your hostess is of the "trailer-trash" variety, try ripped shorts and a golden spoon dangling in your chest hairs. Stay away from cellophane or anything edible, unless you know this will be welcome. Remember: know your audience.

"Semi-formal"

The most dangerous dress suggestion. Its meaning is cloaked in a sort of eldritch indeterminacy. James Thurber, prone as always to genial confusion, once received an invitation to a semi-formal event at the Algonquin. He arrived wearing a dinner jacket, black tie, and no pants.

Essential advice for the young bachelor: emulate Thurber in your letters, and Benchley in your dress. For the most part, semi-formal means a jacket and slacks. A suit (without tie) is also acceptable.

"Business Casual"

This effectively means that you got a little undressed on the way back from the office. A suit (grey or pinstripe) is fine, and it is acceptable to remove your tie. It is not acceptable to untuck your shirt. Save it for the cab-ride home.

"Black tie"

Elegant and understated, this costume is the zenith of sartorial dignity. A slender black bowtie rests upon a well-starched ruffled shirt. A cummerbund (or, better, a vest) softens the sharp lines where the shirt meets the trousers. Cufflinks should be gold or mother-of -pearl.

The black tie ensemble is also known as a "dinner jacket," as it was traditionally worn ever night for dinner. This time will come again. When the 100,000 righteous sit down at the hand of the Father and tuck in to the celestial repast, this is what they will be wearing. Until then, black tie is worn at weddings, balls, and state dinners.

NB: In New York and Los Angeles, it is now considered "acceptable" to wear a dinner jacket with a black shirt and no tie. No good can come of this.

"Tuxedo"

A vulgar term for "black tie," taken from a country club in Tuxedo Park, NY. The semantic distinctions between "tuxedo" and "black tie" are fine, but important. Here's an easy rule of thumb:

If you are a gentleman attending an evening's soiree, you are wearing "black tie."

If you are a pimply high school junior squiring your cousin to your high school "promenade," you are wearing a "tuxedo."


"White Tie"

Also known as "ultra-formal" by hois pollois (a gentleman always declines his Greek).

This is the full-length avian getup. In the modern era, this "penguin suit" consists of a jacket with penguin-like "tails," a "bird's eye piquet" shirt and vest, and a white bow-tie. Be careful not to confuse your flightless birds. Even at the most elegant balls, dazed bachelors may occasionally be seen dressed as emu or ostriches. More rarely, a particularly confused young man will appear as "Big Bird," a flightless creature that inhabits the biome of Sesame Street.

For many white-tie functions, "National Dress" is also acceptable. Lord Byron, descending from an amorous tryst, once walked into a ball clad only in a bedsheet. Swiftly wrapping it around him, he claimed it was the national garb of his home country, Boga Boga. His costume was mentioned with admiration in society pages across Austria.

Weddings after 8 o'clock in the evening are white tie, both for the wedding party and for guests.

"Morning Coat"

Daytime formal wear. A typical "morning coat" consists of a grey (not gray) coat with matching grey and black striped pants, a pearl grey vest, and an ascot. In a pinch, substitute a grey and black four-in-hand tie. Shirt should be white, with wing collar.

A "morning coat" is the appropriate garb for weddings held before noon. Invitations to such events often spell this phrase "mourning coats," to emphasize the spiritual and romantic death of the affianced. Despite this tradition, it is seldom appropriate (however merciful it may be) to bury the groom.

2 comments:

hb said...

A gentleman evidently also leaves in redundant prepositions when mixing Greek and English because this practice is acceptable in Greek for its added emphasis.

Well done. Next, I'd like to see you compose an essay entirely of the letter arrangements found in the "word verification" fields on your comments.

B.Corcoran said...

While I am hesitant to add anything to this paean to good taste for fear that my addition might suggest that I think the post inadequate, I did swear when starting this blog that I would (eventually) respond to every post. So I humbly suggest consulting a short primer on the tying of ties, which is all too often a vexing learning experience for the young gentleman.

The classic knot is, of course, the four-in-hand, which reportedly came about as a fashion statement set by the Four-in-Hand Club in London in the 19th Century.

Somewhat classier is the Windsor, which is a wonderful knot made popular by the Duke Windsor (the former Edward VIII before his abdication). Oddly enough, the Duke himself likely never wore the knot – he merely had his ties made with extra-thick cloth, and onlookers later figured out how to emulate the thickness of the knot with a standard tie. It is generally considered more formal than the schoolboy's four-in-hand, but should never be used with an excessively thick tie, as the resulting knot will be massive.

Those two knots will do for most people, but anyone truly interested in tie knots should investigate The 85 Ways to Tie a Tie, which scientifically analyzes all 85 possible combinations of tie knots and also gives descriptions of the 13 most common actual knots. Of the book, the Guardian said this:

“As I recline weekly in velvet smoking jacket and exquisite cravat to dictate The List to my oiled, submissive stenographer, it is often given to me to muse on the science and aesthetics of tie knots. Happily, Messrs Fink and Mao have now systematized the study of this most indispensable of gentlemen's apparel. Our authors are Cambridge physicists, and they have devised a highly ingenious mathematical method of proving exactly how many different ways there are to tie a tie, given certain practical (tie length, volume of knot) and aesthetic (symmetry) constraints. Such an advance in our understanding is the fruit of knot theory, a branch of topology under which we can see that a tie is a random walk on a triangular lattice.”