DRESS.
First impressions are apt to be permanent; it is therefore of
importance that they should be favourable. The dress of an individual
is that circumstance from which you first form your opinion of him. It
is even more prominent than manner, It is indeed the only thing which
is remarked in a casual encounter, or during the first interview. It,
therefore, should be the first care.
What style is to our thoughts, dress is to our persons. It may supply
the place of more solid qualities, and without it the most solid are
of little avail. Numbers have owed their elevation to their attention
to the toilet. Place, fortune, marriage have all been lost by
neglecting it. A man need not mingle long with the world to find
occasion to exclaim with Sedaine, “Ah! mon habit, que je vous
remercie!” In spite of the proverb, the dress often _does_ make the
monk.
Your dress should always be consistent with your age and your natural
exterior. That which looks outr, on one man, will be agreeable on
another. As success in this respect depends almost entirely upon
particular circumstances and personal peculiarities, it is impossible
to give general directions of much importance. We can only point out
the field for study and research; it belongs to each one’s own genius
and industry to deduce the results. However ugly you may be, rest
assured that there is some style of habiliment which will make you
passable.
If, for example, you have a stain upon your cheek which rivals in
brilliancy the best Chateau-Margout; or, are afflicted with a nose
whose lustre dims the ruby, you may employ such hues of dress, that the
eye, instead of being shocked by the strangeness of the defect, will be
charmed by the graceful harmony of the colours. Every one cannot indeed
be an Adonis, but it is his own fault if he is an Esop.
If you have bad, squinting eyes, which have lost their lashes and are
bordered with red, you should wear spectacles. If the defect be great,
your glasses should be coloured. In such cases emulate the sky rather
than the sea: green spectacles are an abomination, fitted only for
students in divinity,— blue ones are respectable and even _distingué._
Almost every defect of face may be concealed by a judicious use and
arrangement of hair. Take care, however, that your hair be not of one
colour and your whiskers of another; and let your wig be large enough
to cover the _whole_ of your red or white hair.
It is evident, therefore, that though a man may be ugly, there is no
necessity for his being shocking. Would that all men were convinced of
this! I verily believe that if Mr. — in his walking-dress, and Mr. — in
his evening costume were to meet alone, in some solitary place, where
there was nothing to divert their attention from one another, they
would expire of mutual hideousness.
If you have any defect, so striking and so ridiculous as to procure you
a _nickname_ then indeed there is but one remedy,—renounce society.
In the morning, before eleven o’clock even if you go out, you should
not be dressed. You would be stamped a _parvenu_ if you were seen in
anything better than a reputable old frock coat. If you remain at home,
and are a bachelor, it is permitted to receive visitors in a morning
gown. In summer, calico; in winter, figured cloth, faced with fur. At
dinner, a coat, of course, is indispensable.
The effect of a frock coat is to conceal the height. If, therefore, you
are beneath the ordinary statue, or much above it, you should affect
frock coats on all occasions that etiquette permits.
Before going to a ball or party it is not sufficient that you consult
your mirror twenty times. You must be personally inspected by your
servant or a friend. Through defect of this, I once saw a gentleman
enter a ball-room, attired with scrupulous elegance, but with one of
his suspenders curling in graceful festoons about his feet. His glass
could not show what was behind.
If you are about to present yourself in a company composed only of men,
you may wear boots. If there be but one lady present, pumps and
silk-stockings are indispensable.
There is a common proverb which says, that if a man be well dressed as
to head and feet, he may present himself everywhere. The assertion is
as false as Mr. Kemble’s voice. Happy indeed if it were necessary to
perfect only the extremities. The coat, the waistcoat, the gloves, and,
above all, the cravat, must be alike ignorant of blemish.
Upon the subject of the cravat—(for heaven’s sake and Brummel’s, never
appear in a stock after twelve o’clock)—We cannot at present say
anything. If we were to say anything, we could not be content without
saying all, and to say all would require a folio. A book has been
published upon the subject, entitled “The Cravat considered in its
moral, literary, political, military, and religious attributes.” This
and a clever, though less profound, treatise on “The art of tying the
Cravat,” are as indispensable to a gentleman as an ice at twelve
o’clock.
When we speak of excellence in dress we do not mean richness of
clothing, nor manifested elaboration. Faultless propriety, perfect
harmony, and a refined simplicity,—these are the charms which fascinate
here.
It is as great a sin to be finical in dress as to be negligent.
Upon this subject the ladies are the only infallible oracles. Apart
from the perfection to which they must of necessity arrive, from
devoting their entire existence to such considerations, they seem to be
endued with an inexpressible tact, a sort of sixth sense, which reveals
intuitively the proper distinctions. That your dress is approved by a
man is nothing;—you cannot enjoy the high satisfaction of being
perfectly comme il faut, until your performance has received the seal
of a woman’s approbation.
If the benefits to be derived from cultivating your exterior do not
appear sufficiently powerful to induce attention, the inconveniences
arising from too great disregard may perhaps prevail. Sir Matthew Hale,
in the earlier part of his life, dressed so badly that he was once
seized by the press-gang. Not long since, as I entered the hall of a
public hotel, I saw a person so villainously habited, that supposing
him to be one of the servants, I desired him to take my luggage
upstairs, and was on the point of offering him a shilling, when I
discovered that I was addressing the Honorable Mr. * * *, one of the
most eminent American statesmen.