In society, as elsewhere, woman often reminds us of her superiority to the algebraic axiom that things which are equal to the same thing are equal to each other. There are qualified ways in which a man may be equal to society. But to say that he is equal to a woman—that is another matter.
You will remind me that society is not wholly a matter of talk, large or small. This is very true. Among other things, it is a matter of clothes.
VI
LACE AND DESTINY
Victor Hugo thought that “a book might be written with regard to the influence of gold lace on the destiny of nations.” Carlyle wrote the book, extending his discussion to the influence of lace that is not golden on the destiny of society; and one may scarcely venture a few tentative words upon the subject of clothes without the feeling that he should, properly, apologize to “Sartor Resartus.” And yet, as we have many reasons for remembering, there are new clothes, and if there is no new philosophy, it is not impossible that the old philosophy may have some new bearings, and that the new conditions, as sometimes happens, modify the application of the eternal verities.
Naturally one cannot throw out even a casual suggestion in such a matter without realizing that we have gone very far from the primitive standpoint. When Adam told Eve that she looked lovely in green, the situation was strikingly different from any that we now can fancy, not only with regard to the lady, but with regard to the situation in general, for, as there could be no relativity in the sincerity of the compliment, there could have been no diffidence in receiving it. It is clear that either paying or receiving a compliment under such circumstances must of necessity have had an inferior excitement; yet we can have no difficulty in grasping the fact that between the primitive dress reform situation presented in the wilds of Paradise, and the highly evolved subtleties of modern dress, lie infinite ethical complexities, a pyramid of riddles, a Mammoth Cave of doubt. It having been established by centuries of habit that civilized men and women shall always wear some clothes, and most of the time a great deal of them, the question has not the simplicity which it might have had at an earlier time. Clothes principles are now as intricate as apparel itself. They are associated with ages of prejudice, libraries of history, acres of painted art, mountains of dry goods. On the other hand, certain notions now are entirely accepted, and the field for debate, after all, is much narrower than might at first appear.
It may not be amiss to remember the fact, flatly expressed by Carlyle, that “the first spiritual want of a barbarous man is decoration, as, indeed, we still see among the barbarous classes in civilized countries.” In women, dress is this “spiritual want” touched by artistic sentiment, I had almost said religion; and whatever we may say of the essential barbarism of the sentiment, it seems quite likely to prove one of those barbarisms that are fundamental and permanent. If we might remember that it is fundamental much of modern discussion would be simplified. I find Mr. Finck giving the following elements as explaining the Fashion Fetish: the vulgar display of wealth, milliners’ cunning, the tyranny of the ugly majority, cowardice and sheepishness. These are all good explanations, but the list seems sadly deficient without an allusion to this instinctive and ineradicable desire for decoration. Mr. Theodore Child seems to have in mind the instinctive and final phase of the situation when he bids us “enjoy in imagination what the meanness of the age refuses to the desire of the eyes.”
