I
BEING a man, I know that on the subject of women’s fashions men
still talk a vast amount of nonsense, partly sincere and partly
insincere--especially when there are no women present. The fact is
that the whole subject is deeply misunderstood, and the great majority
of people, both men and women, live and dress and die without getting
anywhere near the truth of it.
Men try to explain the feminine cult of clothes by asserting that women
as a sex are vain. It is a profound truth that women as a sex are vain.
It is also a profound truth that men as a sex are vain. Have you ever
been with a man into a hosier’s shop? If you are a woman you certainly
have not, because, though a woman is often glad to be accompanied by a
man when she is choosing her adornments, a man will not allow a woman
to watch him at the same work. Fashionable dressmakers are delighted
to welcome the accompanying man. But at the sight of a woman in his
establishment the fashionable hosier would begin to fear for the safety
of the commonwealth. Even if you are a man you probably have not been
with another man into a hosier’s shop. Men prefer to do these deeds
quite alone; they shun even their own sex; the shopman does not count.
Why this secrecy? The answer is clear. Men are ashamed of themselves on
such occasions because on such occasions their real vanity is exposed.
Tailors, hosiers, and hatters are a loyal clan; but it must be admitted
that they all have a strange look on their faces. That look is due to
the revelations of male vanity which they carry locked eternally in
their breasts. To these purveyors men give themselves away and are
shameless before them. The ordinary man well knows that he is vain.
Besides, you can see him surreptitiously glancing at himself in shop
windows any day. And in some American periodicals there are positively
more advertisements of men’s finery than of women’s.
Again, men try to explain the feminine cult of clothes by asserting
that women are like sheep and must follow one another. What one does
all must do. This argument is more than insincere; it is impudent.
For women show much wider originality and variations of attire
among themselves than men do among themselves. Half a dozen average
well-dressed women will be as different one from another as half a
dozen flowers of different species; you could distinguish between
them half a mile off. But half a dozen well-dressed men would be
indistinguishably alike if you decapitated them. It is notorious that
men are the slaves of fashion. If a new shade of cravat or sock comes
out, the city will be painted with that shade in less than a week. One
year every handkerchief is worn in the sleeve. Another year it will be
shocking to wear a handkerchief in the sleeve, because the only proper
place for wearing a handkerchief is in a pocket over the heart. At the
slightest change in the fashionable diameter of the leg of a pair of
trousers every man with adequate cash or credit will rush privily to
his tailor’s, and in sixty hours a parcel will arrive at that man’s
home marked: ‘Very urgent. Deliver at once.’
Men have a perfect passion for being exactly like other men--not merely
in clothes, but in everything. So much so that they cannot bear to
think that there are men unlike themselves. Thus men will form clubs of
which all the members are alike in some important point, so that while
they are in the club they will live under the beautiful illusion of
universal resemblance. They loathe opinions which are unfashionable,
or unfashionable in their particular set and environment; they will
not even read about such opinions if they can help it; they are ready
to imprison or kill (and often actually have imprisoned or killed) the
holders of such opinions, solely because they are not in the fashion.
And could a man with a bag-wig walk down the Strand or Fifth Avenue
without having it knocked off or being arrested for obstruction? He
could not. Nevertheless a bag-wig is less preposterous than a silk hat.
Yet again, men try to explain the feminine cult of clothes by asserting
that women as a sex really enjoy the huge task of dressing, and really
enjoy spending money for the sake of spending money, and have no
brains above personal embellishment. All these arguments are patently
ridiculous. To very many well-dressed women the task of dressing is
naught but a tedious and heavy burden. As for brains, it frequently
occurs that the women with the most intelligence (intelligence far
surpassing that of the average man) are the most _chic_. In regard
to the enjoyment of mere spending, the charge is true. It is, however,
equally true of men. I could refer to tailors, hosiers, and hatters,
but I will not. Take, for a change, two dining parties at a restaurant,
one consisting of three men and three women, the other consisting of
six men. The bill of the six men will be the heavier. As a sex men, in
the French phrase, ‘refuse themselves nothing.’ And their felicity in
spending for the sake of spending is touchingly boyish.
Whatever may be the explanation of the subjection of women to costly
fashion, we are now, at any rate, in a position to say what the
explanation is _not_. It is not that women are specially vain.
It is not that women are specially like sheep. It is not that they
lack intelligence. It is not that they enjoy the tyranny. And it is
not that they are spendthrift. If the explanation lay in any of these
directions men would read fashion papers, go to sales, and change their
suits four times a day.