As someone who was once appalled at the sight of a co-worker sauntering about in a bright red tie on a Monday morning, I have borne witness to a cataclysmic shift in the manner in which we present ourselves. Not only has the formal wear witnessed a dramatic downfall, but everyday attire, at large, seems to be eroding into a sad spectacle of attention seeking or apathy, I am uncertain which.
I’ve lived all my life in the nurturing arms of Schenectady, a charming town in the heart of the great state of New York. For five decades, mornings and evenings were graced by impeccably attired men and women – men in their suits, ties and hats; women in their delicate dresses and beautiful bonnets. Manners dictated dressing; exhibiting one’s dignity through the sartorial choices made in the morning was the unwritten law. Even my grandfather, a humble janitor, never left home without his tie, lest he felt stripped bare of his dignity.
Back in the day, shopping at downtown Schenectady was a parade of elegance. The rustle of silk, the whiff of woolen suits, and the clip-clop of shiny leather shoes against the cobbled streets were the notes in the beautiful symphony of opulent clothing. My mother, a woman of tremendous grace, would often tell us that clothing was an expression of the soul. She practised what she preached, presenting an image of dignified simplicity in her attire which was always crisp, tailored, and perfectly ironed.
Fast forward to today, and we are privy to a fashion disaster movie in real-life. Schenectady’s once-dignified streets now are littered with garish neon colors, unfathomably saggy trousers, and shockingly inappropriate slogans imprinted on attire that wouldn’t cover a rabbit let alone ensure the modesty of a full-grown human. It’s as if zombies from a poorly-dressed apocalypse took over our quaint town.
To coin a phrase from a bygone era, what in the name of Pete is happening?
Think back to the 40s or 50s, what images flash in front of your eyes? Men and women, excellently tailored, adorning chapeaus, their sense of fashion elevating their dignity. From running errands in the morning, to late-night dinner parties, the sense of style never faltered. You could dash out to the corner store in the morning in your pajamas, and nobody would bat an eyelid, especially if it’s emblazoned with the words ’I Woke Up Like This’ across your chest.
I might come across as prudish, but I’m only lamenting the loss of personal dignity that used to be an intrinsic part of our lives. Respect for oneself and others was mirrored in how we dressed up. Sure, comfort is key, but isn’t vanity equally important? A gentleman’s polished shoes or a lady’s neatly coiffed hair, communicated a level of respect for the, now obsolete, concept of ‘personal dignity’. It harkens back to an era where elegance wasn’t impractical, but a norm to be embraced.
Contrary to what millennials might tell you, fast fashion wasn’t always the big, evil predator it is today. Back then, buying clothes was a delightful ritual, not a mundane chore. You’d admire the craftsmanship, acknowledge the effort. Clothes lasted longer, held more memories, and as my aunt Agnes always said, they were made with an abundance of ‘TLC’ - Tender, Love and Care.
Fashion trends, much like everything else, change over time; fabrics loosen, hemlines rise or fall, and plumped-up shoulder pads deflate. Change is an integral part of life, it keeps things exciting, maintains our interest, and prevents stagnation. But by no means, should it desecrate the dignity inherent in our appearance.
So, as I step out on the streets of Schenectady, encased within my well-fit suit, donning my faithful fedora, I can only hope that this period of sloppy fashion will be just that – a span, an era, a phase that’ll soon past. I yearn for the return of elegance. For, isn’t clothing, like architecture, a reflection of the times we live in? Let’s strive not to appear as a society who self-expresses through gaudy neon spandex. We can do better, we must do better.
Clothes, after all, do maketh the man – and the woman; let’s not forget that. And as we herald in this New Year, perhaps it may do us some good to remember the old adage; ‘Dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman’ or the man, as the case might be.
You may call me old-fashioned, a stickler for the bygone eras; I call myself a vigilant guard of the rapidly evaporating dignity in dressing. Call me names if you please, deride my love for cufflinks and monogrammed handkerchiefs, but the truth remains – the decline in our sartorial choices is a clear indication of our diminishing concern for personal dignity.
This isn’t a call for a sartorial revolution, but merely a plea to revive a sense of pride in our appearance. In the wise words of Dorothy Parker, “Elegance, like all magnificent things, doesn’t need to shout.” Let’s make dignity our guiding compass in the labyrinth of fashion blunders. Let’s choose to show up, not just as society expects us to, but as we ought to for ourselves.
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