What to Wear
We've been at this quarantine business for roughly a year and there are still many signs that we haven't quite figured it out. Of course, the largest signs are that people are still refusing to wear masks or inconvenience themselves in the slightest in defense of a toddler's understanding of the word "freedom" but I'm thinking more of the etiquette of a society in which no one can be social.
About one third of Americans are working completely from home and I am one of them. What do you wear for an office commute in which there is no office and no commute? I wrote about the remote work wardrobe at the beginning of the pandemic but it's worth returning to the subject as we've moved from the "this is going to be an annoying two weeks" phase of the global shutdown to the "birthday parties are historical relics" period. My attire has changed very little. I wear jackets and suits most days and am never without a collar. I'm not quite sure why I do this, none of my colleagues do. I have long maintained that what you wear says something about you whether you intend it to or not. There is historical precedence to back my claim. Arthur Wellesley, the 1st Duke of Wellington, was one of Britain's momentous prime ministers to say nothing of the fact that he won the Battle of Waterloo when he had every reason to lose it, surely making him one of the most significant people to ever live but none of that helped him retain his membership in the Almack's club, the most prestigious social establishment in London, when he turned up wearing a pair of long trousers as opposed to the insisted-upon knee-breeches. Defeating Napoleon and saving Europe from tyranny apparently gave him zero leeway. Barring a prominent person for wearing pants may seem like an old-fashioned idea from a forgotten time but consider that Parisian women were only legally allowed to wear trousers in 2012.
I'm not sure what I'm saying by showing up for work just a yard or two from where I sleep wearing a jacket or tie. I could bloviate about respecting my colleagues and showing some deference to them but I'm not sure I believe that. I certainly don't care what they wear nor am I offended when it appears to be clothes fit for the gym. I once owned a t-shirt that I wore for many years that had a picture of a dog on the front with a caption that read "No, seriously. Who let the fucking dogs out?" It was the kind of t-shirt that, were you the costume designer on a movie, you would assign to a lowlife getting busted on a drug charge. Not the kingpin of the operation either, but the glassy eyed loser who eventually rats on the kingpin. And I wore it outside. And I would wear it now if it hadn't literally fallen apart because I wore it so much. So what I'm saying is that the story you tell with your clothing doesn't necessarily have to make sense or agree with itself.
Wait a minute, did I say "clothes fit for the gym?" That's a bit of an oxymoron. The root of "gymnasium" is the ancient Greek "gymnós," which means "naked." The word gymnasium itself literally means "a naked place" so whatever you wear there, you are, strictly speaking (though, mercifully), overdressed.
The best I can figure is that wearing proper clothes, or clothes I would wear to a physical office anyway, makes me feel awake and engaged as if I haven't totally woken up until I have them on, an extension of opening my eyes and brushing my teeth. That doesn't explain why I insist on wearing shoes. You can justify a collared shirt in a working environment in which your torso is occasionally on a computer's camera but no one sees my feet from 9:00am until 5:00pm yet I feel positively naked without them.
Further, I am not a shoe person, a sneaker head, a calceophile. Imelda Marcos, the former first lady of the Phillipines, opened a museum dedicated to her shoe collection that ran into the hundreds. My collection includes maybe a dozen pairs, only three or four of which are worn regularly. Elvis wore—what else?—blue suede shoes to his prom, I wore the patent leather slippers the tux rental place gave me. George W. Bush had his shoes hand made by an Italian cobbler, who also happened to make shoes for Saddam Hussein. For me, shoes are utilitarian, they are the least distinctive part of a man's dress, I don't expect anyone to notice mine and I don't notice other people's—unless they're not wearing any. Then it's like the person has two giant bullhorns screaming out of each pant leg. I suppose I insist on wearing shoes while working at home because shoes mean civilization to me. I know that is paternalistic, there are plenty accomplished societies that have little need for shoes in public but when I see bare feet on a plane, or a bus stop, or a hotel lobby—even sandals are pushing it—I can't help thinking that one more wall between us and Lord of the Flies has been broken down. Besides, I do, in fact, have in-person coworkers. The kids' wonderful nanny Haley is here all day and doesn't need to see my Hobbit feet whenever I slink to the kitchen for lunch.
Forgive me a digression but I was thinking about this since I mentioned Saddam Hussein earlier but did you know that Saddam Hussein's bunker was designed by the grandson of the woman who designed Hitler's bunker? That's a hell of a family business. I keep thinking of the son in between the generations who had a chance to develop a bunker for a megalomaniacal mad man between Hitler and Hussein, Idi Amin or someone, but turned it down to the disappointment of his family. "That's what we do," the mother screams. "We design bunkers for despots!" "That's YOUR dream, mama! Not my dream! I want to be a doctor!" "Oh, here we go again with the ridiculous doctor business!"
Anyway, I wear size 12 shoes, which is bigger than average but significantly smaller than the Statue of Liberty who wears size 879. The way American shoe sizes are measured is complicated but British shoe sizes are simple, they are measured in barleycorns. If you are a size eight, your foot is eight barleycorns long. American sizes are based on an intersection of length, width and mass which is why they are different for men and women. Speaking of, it may be my privilege to insist on a day-long shoe policy. If I were a woman, it's likely I couldn't bear it. Before the Queen of England puts on her shoes, she has a servant wear them to make sure they are comfortable. Just the same, I've been told that wearing high heels makes one feel powerful, enough so to override whatever discomfort they may cause. I believe that. They were invented by Persian horsemen who used them to steady themselves in the stirrups when firing arrows. What you wear really does affect how you feel.