Do you remember being in Junior High and desperately needing to wear exactly the right clothes? Or how it felt the first time you dressed up for a prom or wedding? Do you notice how we go out in public and instinctively evaluate people based on what they are wearing?
January was a month where extra attention was given to what people were wearing – from the First Lady’s hat at the inaugural ceremony to the elaborate outfits stars wore at the Golden Globes. I recently came across two passages illustrating the significance of what people wear – one from 1990s New York and the other 1390s London.
In 1993, Ruth Reichl began a career as a restaurant critic for the New York Times. “As a critic, she went to extreme lengths to try and make sure the restaurant owners and chefs didn’t recognize her. She made reservations under different names and switched credit cards regularly. She had 12 different personalities with full disguises for each. There was Molly, a retired public school teacher who had suddenly become wealthy from her husband’s work in real estate. There was Betty, a frumpy old woman. And there was Chloe, a beautiful blond interior decorator. She said, “I did not know I had that person inside of me. Chloe can get a cab; stop traffic; doors are opened for you; everything changes for you. Not only that, Chloe knew how to flirt, something I didn’t think I knew how to do.” She wrote about how differently she was treated at classy restaurants depending on her disguise — Betty, especially, got treated poorly. And she would write about that in her reviews, exposing the snobbishness of fancy New York restaurants, and how they would suddenly fawn over her and offer to move her to a better table if they figured out who she was mid-meal.”[i]
Six hundred years earlier, England passed detailed laws dictating what people could wear based on their income and social status:
Following the broadening of prosperity after the plague epidemic and the upsurge in trade following the development of charged trading guilds, demand for fine clothes is high amongst the prosperous citizens of London. Moreover, by the 1390s, you’ll find a wider range of clothes available than ever before due to some mid-century quantum leaps in tailoring, namely the arrival of the button and new ways to tailor clothes to hug the body rather than have them hang more loosely …
All of which unsettles the ruling elite. The problem is that fashion- fueled judgments are inevitably based upon fleeting perceptions. And perceptions are very easily manipulated if people dress ‘above their station’ as they are wont to do. This is less of a problem in tight-knit rural communities where it’s generally pretty obvious who is a villain, who are yeomen (farmers) and who is a lord. But a city with a resident population of about 40,000 and a daily headcount of many more is in danger becoming a catwalk of deceit, giving people ample opportunities to reinvent themselves…
To this end …. the government tries to regulate what people wear in London … a Europe-wide phenomenon which used to limit what you can wear according to your social status, and to prevent grooms (people who care for horses) dressing like craftsman, craftsman like gentlemen, gentlemen like esquires, esquires like knights and so on.
Regarding what you can wear, they are detailed and unequivocal. Knights with an annual income of 135 pounds may wear cloth up to a value of four pounds, but not cloth of gold, nor a cloak or mantle aligned with pure miniver or sleeves of ermine. They should stick to other types of fur. Esquires with land yielding 200 pounds per year and merchants with goods worth over 1,000 pounds can’t wear anything made with cloth exceeding three pounds six shillings in price nor jewels, unless in their hair. Cloth of silk and silver though is fine. Craftsman and yeomen must stick to the native rabbit, fox, cat, or lamb fur. Those lucky enough to have lands worth 1000 pounds per year can wear whatever they damn well like, though swineherds, dairy maids, oxherds, and the like, who have 40 shillings to their name must settle for blanket and russet (a coarse cloth) — and rope girdles.[ii]
What fun Ruth Reichl would have had in Medieval London — one day dressed up as Lady Chloe, the beautiful wife of a knight dressed in gold cloth and ermine fur, and the next as poor peasant Betty with only a blanket and rope.
Ruth Reichl wore a dozen different disguises at New York restaurants and people treated her differently based on her appearance. But she was the same person underneath.
While we may always be aware of how other people are dressed, spiritual perspectives invites us to look beyond someone’s outward appearance to see their inner dignity:
“… ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing?And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you? And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’[iii]
In every culture, it’s fun to dress up for special occasions.
In every culture, it’s a gift to see people for who they are and not judge them by what they are wearing.
[ii] London: A Travel Guide Through Time, Dr. Matthew Green, 2011; pgs.104-105
[iii] Matthew 25: 37-40
Steve Jacobsen, Ed.D 