Peacock today, feather duster tomorrow?

Many years ago I attended a meeting of the Court of the University of Lancaster.

This was not a court in the legal sense, merely a very large advisory body on which numerous local worthies sat. It had no real power and only met once a year. Its most interesting feature in some ways was that it also had a lot of student members. Lancaster U was a democratic place in those days. The local worthies tended to dress up for the occasion. The students did not. Sartorial cultures clashed visibly.

Naturally the proceedings opened with a speech from the Vice Chancellor. This gentleman wished to reassure the local worthies that there was nothing seriously wrong with the exotic creatures in their midst, so he inserted a few words on the tendency for students to follow the latest young fashions, and all dress the same way. I think Afghan goatskin coats were all the rage at the time. Anyway after the Vice Chancellor had finished one of the students rose to his feet, pointed at the platform and observed that the people on it were actually much more uniform in their dress than the students. And of course he was right. Every man, there were no ladies, alas was wearing a two-piece business suit, a shirt in a respectably pale colour, and a tie.

On the other hand by Hong Kong standards they were a herd of peacocks. The other week I was invited to a do in the Convention and Exhibition Centre. It was a Saturday night, so there were plenty of other get-togethers in progress. Naturally the halls were full of couples heading for the shindig of their choice, and in every case the man was not just wearing a two-piece business suit, but was wearing one in virtually the same shade of charcoal grey. The big shots at Lancaster University were comparatively enterprising: one or two had pale grey, some wore blue, the man from the Buildings Office was wearing a sort of brick colour. In Hong Kong everyone goes for the same funereal near black.

This is depressing. In bygone eras, it seems to me, rich people were expected to display their wealth in an interesting and aesthetically pleasing way by dressing up. Exotic fabrics were encouraged, precious metals welcomed, large feathers admired. What is the point of being rich if you can’t flaunt it?

Creeping monochrome

The idea of monochrome for men seems to have crept in during the 19th century. I fear it probably originated in the UK, where displays of wealth were branded vulgar, possibly because the sort of landed aristocrats who dominated taste in these matters were running short of the money required to pay for it.

There was a rebellion of sorts in the 60s. Men’s clothes took on a wider range of colours. Ties, if worn at all, became big fat things in violent shades.

Jackets and trousers flared in places where they had not flared before and I even had a shirt with lace cuffs which fell over my hands in a rather 17th century way. And this was a mass-produced shirt. People were wearing this sort of stuff. Hair was worn over the shoulders. Colours vibrated. Somehow, though, this all fizzled out.

And I suppose it never reached Hong Kong in the first place. In old pictures of the place local bigwogs are kitted out in the sort of long gown now seen only at Chinese music concerts. Although the photos are black and white I presume the gowns actually came in a variety of colours, as they still do. But this tradition, along with the Mao jacket over the border, has been trampled in the dust. The boring business suit in boring off-black has pretty much conquered the world. Only in Iran is the president not required to wear a tie, and that’s not the sort of association which is going to help the cause of liberation.

Unsuitable in Hong Kong

Liberation, actually, is what we need. The suit is totally unsuitable for Hong Kong. In summer it is too hot, even if you get a lightweight model ... and if you do get it in a really lightweight cloth it will look awful. In winter the damned thing is not warm enough, and you have to wear a coat. The get-up is uncomfortable and difficult to work in. Indeed one of the ways you can tell when work gets serious is that the workers start discarding the uniform. Jackets are thrown over the backs of chairs, ties are loosened, collars unbuttoned. When people get home we see another give-away - the uniform comes off and is replaced with something cheap, comfortable and cheerful, like a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt.

There are it is true a few exceptions. Many uniformed bodies have a ceremonial summer uniform which is at least white. The Governor used to have a very nice formal white suit with gold trimmings, though for some reason Mr Chris Patten refused to wear it and insisted on turning out in the same boring gear as everyone else. For many years the chief Bomb Disposal Officer of the Hong Kong Police wore outrageous clothes, including a top hat. It seems that a man who is required to play with explosives for a living can choose the clothes he wants to be blown up in.

Elsewhere there are no signs of resistance to the business uniform. Indeed I suppose some people may welcome it. In one of C.S. Forester’s books the hero, freshly demobbed from the Royal Navy, reflects on his sudden need to choose clothes, after years in which he could answer to any criticism of his dress that it came with the job.

It seems most local businessmen are quite happy to go into Sam’s once a year, ask for another of the usual, shut their eyes and let the tailors get on with it. Their highest ambition is to look like everyone else.

This is disappointing.

We would like our young people to think that business is an exciting, vibrant career which rewards initiative and individualism. Then we dress like a herd of penguins. Think peacocks.
 

Tim Hamlett, Former Editor of Sunday Standard and Associate Professor of Journalism