People love wearing uniforms. I’m not talking about the official ones worn by the military or police. I am talking about the ones people voluntarily wear without realising that it is a uniform. It is something to do with our need to belong to some kind of group and just about everyone uses clothing to send unspoken signals to other people. A top hat can say “I have money and can spend time on frivolous pursuits”, whereas a pair of new jeans with holes in them says, “I am not a workman but can afford to pay silly money to look like one”.
Clothes can also signal something about our need to feel a part of society but conversely, also make a statement about our individuality. To show that we are country folk we have a wardrobe comprises tweedy fabrics with hues of greens and browns, whereas to signal their individuality, city folk often use outlandish styles and colours to draw attention to themselves. Some folk use clothing to signal religious pieties whilst others wear badges or tattoos to send signals about their personal allegiances. However, not many people realise that one unseen part of clothing can reveal a great deal about their lives and where they live.
It came to me recently whilst waiting in line at a communion service. In front of me were about a dozen parishioners kneeling at the altar rail waiting for the bread and wine. Whilst in the queue I usually try to think about important things, but on this occasion my eyes were drawn to the dozen pairs of shoes all neatly upended before me.
There was the obvious sign of a sheep farmer and the lady who keeps poultry. Then there was the man who had forgotten to change out of his wellingtons and so had gone to the rail in his socks. I saw shoes with worn soles and shoes with fancy tread made for walking and some smooth like slippers. As I took in this sight, it occurred to me, that someone behind might notice that my own shoes which, whilst both black, were not a matching pair. “It’s a good job”, I thought, “That God looks at what we do and not at what we wear”.
However, talking about clothes and the signals they transmit, reminds me of the TV sketch in which the six feet five inches John Cleese glances towards Ronnie Barker and said “I am upper class and I look down on him.” The five foot nine inch Ronnie then looked down on a diminutive figure and said, “I am middle class and I look down on him”. At that point the five-foot nothing Ronnie Corbett paused and replied, “I know my place”.
We all laughed because nineteen sixties viewers instinctively knew that the participants were representations of society at that time. But what the higher echelons of the day did not know was what those of us who ‘knew our place’ also knew that society didn’t really work like that at all.
We didn’t like being looked down upon, but we tolerated it because we were young and building careers, caring for family and busy in all kinds of social activities. We were helping to build the world into which our Grandchildren were born.
Recent political changes have made me think that the peaceful Peasants Revolt of ‘Brexit’ would give the John Cleese characters of this world pause for thought, but it appears as though some at least, are still treating the peasants as though it is business as usual.
For example, the other day I received a glossy circular from one of those ‘liberally minded’ middle class organisations whose income comes mainly from the taxpayer. It told me I suffered from unconscious bias in decision making and offered training in how to avoid this in my business. Its brochure read’:
“What if the decisions you’re making aren’t really based on the facts but instead on subconscious thoughts and feelings you’re not even aware of? Although we all like to think that our decisions are objective, we often make instinctive decisions about other people and unconscious bias can lead to stereotyping and can have serious legal implications”.
This is true up to a to a point, but do I really have to pay my taxes plus £120 for a half day seminar, so that I can listen to someone telling me what it is I am thinking, even though I don’t know I am thinking it?
I suppose the seminar will resolve the problem I didn’t know I had; when the leader tells me exactly how to make sure that I never again think about the thing I wasn’t thinking about until I signed up for his course.
Money well spent we might think. Or is it?
View from the Pew 