Dressing up, looking down - clothing habits - Column

National Review, Jan 23, 1995 by Taki Theodoracopulos

IRECENTLY attended a London party in honor of a political writer, for which the invitation stipulated black tie. Having put on my finest, I arrived at my host's rather grand house to be met by as many as twenty young men wearing sweaters and jeans. At the start, I felt embarrassed for the few among them I knew, but after a while it dawned on me: I was the one out of place. England, alas, has taken a page out of Hollywood and David Geffen. No one with serious political or artistic aspirations believes that wearing a necktie is the proper thing to do.

But before I go on, a word or two about slobbism. They say that the rich are getting richer and the poor poorer, but as in everything the "cultural elite" of the Left tells us, nothing could be further from the truth. The rich are getting poorer, as far as I'm concerned, because they try to look so poor. Everywhere one looks, there are people with horrible haircuts who think wearing sweat suits is okay at whatever age and size they happen to be.

In America, slobbism has been elevated to the realm of political correctness. Film stars such as Daryl Hannah and Michelle Pfeiffer always look like the proverbial things the cat dragged in, while such male stars as Dustin Hoffman and Al Pacino have made of deliberate drabness a political statement. We may be multi-millionaires, with tens of cars in our garages, houses all over the globe, private planes and yachts, but we're one with the common man.

The rot really set in during the Six-ties, that decade for which we are still paying a hell of a price. The "let it all hang out" ethos has stayed with these pushing-fifty slobs, and there's a lot more hanging out nowadays. Ironically, the people who regard themselves as a cut above--journalists, artists, film and television people--actually look down on those who dress to beautify. The War Hero in the White House is, of course, the best example. As a modern politician, he is so anxious to be personally loved by voters, he has forgotten what public life is all about. He has arrogantly adopted a private manner in public with little sense of the dignity of his office. If one loses all idea of the dignity of public life, one loses the idea of its point. Talking about one's underwear on television may be acceptable to Oprah Winfrey, but in reality it is a sickness of a people who have gorged on too many afternoon television programs.

Back in 1971, as slobbism was starting to go mainstream, I met the beautiful actress Jennifer O'Neill at a dinner. I wore an Anderson & Sheppard double-breasted blue suit, with black shoes and a white shirt. When I was introduced to her, I rose and shook hands. She looked startled, then began to laugh.

"Why so formal?" she asked.

"Because I'm not from Hollywood," I answered--although, mind you, I was not completely right. Gary Cooper, Clark Gable, Van Heflin, Fred Astaire were wonderful examples of pedigreed dressing, and I would have been proud to dress as they did.

Nowadays, male suits are regarded as a buttoned-up form of dressing. Those in "creative" professions wear anything but the traditional suit, preferring shapeless forms and baggy pants. The younger generation refers to those of us who dress properly as "Suits," meaning repressive and boring. For my part, I find their contrived dishevelment stultifying, extremely conforming, and utterly predictable.

A beautifully cut traditional suit is a symbol of respect for one's self, also of power and good taste. There is nothing that gives me more pleasure than going into my closet and picking out a fine, light linen suit during the summer, or a light striped flannel in winter. The double-breasted suits I prefer are shapely, shadowing the torso. I dress for status rather than function, and the added pleasure comes when I go into one of those nightclubs full of people dressed in "grunge," or whatever the expensive rags they wear today are called. That is the only time my age and weight do not stand out among the young and the thin. In fact, that's the only time I feel superior.