This is from one of my favorite scenes from An Ideal Husband, especially as played by Rupert Everett in the recent movie, the dandy Lord Goring, described in Oscar Wilde’s stage directions as “the first well-dressed philosopher in the history of thought.” Here he gets ready to go out, his butler Phipps assisting with a flower for his lapel.
Lord Goring: You see, Phipps, Fashion is what one wears oneself. What is unfashionable is what other people wear.
Phipps: Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring: Just as vulgarity is simply the conduct of other people.
Phipps: Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring: And falsehoods the truths of other people.
Phipps: Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring: Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.
I love it. Wilde’s plays are so dense with wit and meaning. But I digress.
The Kennedy Center gala concert is Sunday night. It’s a black-tie event, and I thought I’d be creative about it. I rummaged through my closet, thinking I could wear a white, silk scarf instead of a whole bow tie get-up, but once I started playing dress-up in the mirror, I quickly realized it wasn’t working.
This morning I went to Scogna, a small, formal-wear shop on L Street, to get fitted for a tuxedo. They must do some good business. While I was there, the place was buzzing with activity. The tailor who helped me, Israel, was really gracious. (I do appreciate good customer service.) When I told him I needed the suit by Sunday, he said that with such short notice, I was in luck, since basically all they had left were suits in the smaller and larger sizes, i.e., once again I was thankful for my uh, small stature. And that doesn’t happen often.
The first thing I noticed in the fitting room was a picture on the wall, of George H. W. Bush at the White House, being measured for a suit, presumably by a Scogna tailor. I understand the company pride, but isn’t it a bit strange to be changing your clothes with a picture of a former President (or anyone, for that matter) over your shoulder? Anyway. I’ll be back there tomorrow morning for pick-up.
I’ve rented a tuxedo enough times in the past few years that I really should’ve just bought one by now. Well, formal events come so infrequently, at least for me, that I seldom think it justified. I guess I should just go to more opening nights at the opera and so forth. I love dressing up. To have a tuxedo in one’s closet, at the ready. Very gentlemanly.
One reply on “The importance of being fashionable”
Te heh Jeff. I think Wilde’s greatest strength in his pursuit of wit and humour (his life as a playwright) was his brutal honesty. When you look at it closely it’s obvious that our social lives and interactions are saturated with the most astounding contradictions (to the point of farce in many cases). One is so conditioned that one simply does not question these automatic behaviours. The emphasis on manners and polite, parlour-room parlez seemed to take up so much of people’s lives in middle-class Victorian and Edwardian society. No wonder old Oscar had a field day with all this cigar smoke, feather fans, and snuff box fop.
Such an effort just to step outside one’s own front door; whether you had a footman to open it or did so yourself.