The Question of Clothes

It is time to speak of clothes, it seems. What is my sartorial philosophy?

"Indifference to what others think is, of course, the badge of the aristocrat. Never mind the Jones's, I make my own rules," writes Elspeth Huxley in Out in the Midday Sun.

I always thought I was the farthest thing from an aristocrat, however all the signs point to it.

If pressed, I will say this: Clothes do not make the man--they cover him. Tradition, etiquette, household culture, socialization, climate -- all these factors determine choices.

On a long, lazy summer day, my sons were seen roaming the town in dirty, stained, patched, inside-out and backwards clothing. I saw this and thought, "What a perfect moment to be a boy, dirty from playing in the creek, and not a worry for the world."

When the autumn equinox arrives and they are confined to classes, they will be much tidier, probably not inside out; the best will come out.

Patches, neatly done by the arthritic fingers of my mother, are a point of pride for me. The boys may request designs, motifs, colours. They anticipate the return of their previously holy clothes. I see the recycling, the conservation, the savings. Some of those pants are third generation hand-me-downs: a small contribution to the reduction of overconsumption.

Also, I hate shopping. Dipping into the boxes of second hands allow me to also play in the mud.

I am no fashion plate. In Montreal I was the country bumpkin. I admire those with style.

Sometimes I see my boys so gorgeous and well-dressed--and I am aware of my own set of priorities, in which "respectability and tidiness come low on the list." (ibid, Huxley)

Give them guidance, allow them to express themselves, let them choose, and some of the time, they might even put some clothes on.