Confessions of a part-time girl

Clothes Make the Man, part II
8:45 a.m. -- 2008-07-28

Let me tell you a little about April the 14th, 2007. That's when I married Victoria.

The bride was gorgeously, wonderfully fantastic. That goes without saying, really. She's been at least two of those things every day since.

In advance, a couple of people had joked with me that I had to accept that I'd be the third most important person there, after the bride... and the mother of the bride. And sure enough, all eyes were on those leading ladies. Rightly so; they both looked good.

I wondered, in the run-up to the Big Day, whether I'd suffer any pangs of jealousy. That melancholy that lurks within me, surfacing occasionally when I see a pretty girl, or some nice girlie clothing: why can't I look like that? It's not debilitating, but it does feel terribly unfair. I can't really explain it any better than that. Just an occasional, deep sense of regret that I've learned to live with. I sometimes imagine that a person who is unable to have children might feel a similar, gnawing sadness when they look upon somebody else's family life.

On April 14th, I needn't have worried. There was no melancholy at all. I didn't get the dress... but I did get the woman I love.

I think Mark Twain was right when he said, 'Clothes make the man.'* They really do. I think that putting on a 'costume' is tremendously empowering. It focuses your attention, somehow. It works for me when I'm doing martial arts, when I dress smartly in order to give a presentation, when I'm getting kitted out to do an adventure sport... and it worked on my wedding day.

I come from a theatrical family. Amateur stuff, but it's how my ma and pa met. In fact, I'm the only one who has chosen not to walk the boards. Years ago, I was prevailed upon to appear in plays, operas, everything. It probably did me some good, actually; I'm just about immune to stage fright. The cure is to know your part, act your part... dress your part.

On April the 14th, I think we both gave a pretty damn good performance. In fact, I wouldn't change a thing.

The costume of the groom's party was utterly conventional; the regulation hired suit. You can look at all kinds of alternatives, such as having a Nehru collar, or a bold print... but ultimately, almost everyone goes for the standard outfit.

It felt good.

You still get showered with all kinds of compliments, even though all you had to do was put on a suit, with a waistcoat and tie specified by the bride.

'Drag', you might think, is "clothing characteristically associated with one sex when worn by a person of the opposite sex." That's one definition, but the theatrical interpretation is broader. In that world, it could be taken to mean "clothing characteristic of a particular occupation or milieu."

(Which causes one such as me to shuffle elsewhere within the dictionary, to find out what a milieu is. It just means "environment or setting".)

What am I getting at?

In his wedding finery, in a wedding setting, the groom is in costume. It's no less anachronistic - no less silly, even - than the costumes that chambermaids wear in posh hotels. It's a social construct, suited by custom to the setting and the occasion.

(And the bride's dress is too.)

I liked my costume, and I enjoyed my role. Every second of it.

* What Mark Twain actually said was, 'Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.' I like this a lot, and it's the kind of thing I would have liked to have said... but that's not relevant here.

Neither is it relevant that I'm naked as I write this. I may not be influencing society, but at least I'm not hot and sticky.

Too much information? Surely not.

previous - next