Dress is at all times a frivolous distinction, and excessive solicitude about it often destroys its own aim. – Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
When it comes to canonical British authors, Jane Austen is considered one of the most beloved amongst female readers in the English-speaking world, not least because of her strong presence in modern popular culture via drama serials or films.
Having been schooled in an education system inherited from the British, Austen has crossed my path more than a few times, and she is one of my favorite authors. Her intricately devised romance plots aside, Austen’s appeal lies in her close attention to the minutiae[1] of what was essentially the life of the English landed gentry, and she is one of Literature’s most famous feminists, despite her emphasis on the marriage market in Regency England. In fact,  it is this focus that accentuates the lack of autonomy that women of the time faced, where too much in life depended on making a favourable marital match.
However, what is exceptional about Austen is her incisive wit and ability to mock the foolish without being inordinately cruel. Quite simply, she bursts the bubble of any character lacking in self-awareness—and this occurs much more than you’d expect. Indeed, in exposing the inherent vanities we tend to attach ourselves overmuch to (as seen in the quote above) she comes across as simply articulating plain good sense (and crisp soundbytes, of course). Here is the quote in context:
She went home very happy. The morning had answered all her hopes, and the evening of the following day was now the object of expectation, the future good. What gown and what head-dress she should wear on the occasion became her chief concern. She cannot be justified in it. Dress is at all times a frivolous distinction, and excessive solicitude about it often destroys its own aim. Catherine knew all this very well; her great aunt had read her a lecture on the subject only the Christmas before; and yet she lay awake ten minutes on Wednesday night debating between her spotted and her tamboured muslin, and nothing but the shortness of the time prevented her buying a new one for the evening. This would have been an error in judgment, great though not uncommon, from which one of the other sex rather than her own, a brother rather than a great aunt, might have warned her, for man only can be aware of the insensibility of man towards a new gown. It would be mortifying to the feelings of many ladies, could they be made to understand how little the heart of man is affected by what is costly or new in their attire; how little it is biased by the texture of their muslin, and how unsusceptible of peculiar tenderness towards the spotted, the sprigged, the mull, or the jackonet. Woman is fine for her own satisfaction alone. No man will admire her the more, no woman will like her the better for it. Neatness and fashion are enough for the former, and a something of shabbiness or impropriety will be most endearing to the latter. But not one of these grave reflections troubled the tranquillity of Catherine (Northanger Abbey, Chapter 10).
Clearly, we are meant to derive humour from Catherine’s neurosis about impressing a man with her attire. I particularly enjoy how Austen deftly describes the sheer oblivion that men have towards the “the texture of their muslin†and the glee that women have in a less than stellar appearance in a fellow female in one neat sentence.
However, while I agree with Austen about undue—and unseemly, even—preoccupations with clothes, I’m not sure whether I agree that “dress is at all times a frivolous distinction.†While most people would bring in the big gun arguments about superficiality and the objectification of women, that has become a lazy approach.
Clothes, and by extension, fashion, can certainly be used for unhealthy ends by the vain or by those looking for a shortcut to social status. That’s not to mention the body image issues they cause and their role in fuelling capitalism. However, while I appreciate these concerns and understand why those with serious aspirations and are fighting for gender equality tend to distance themselves from fashion, our garments embody far more than these criticisms. To insist that they deal entirely with the exterior is misinformed at the very least.
To begin, fashion is one of the best chronicles of social history, intersecting with everything from politics, economics, culture, power and prevailing notions of identity This alone would warrant close attention and study. Moreover, it reflects what went through the minds of craftsmen and aesthetes from different eras as they lived and worked, and how they filtered their ideas about the past as well as the future into creating what they understand as the present.
The clothes we wear are also as deeply personal as they are astoundingly public, being one of the first points of contact that any stranger has with you. It is a powerful mode of expression and self-representation that tells you a lot about what a person thinks about themselves as they navigate society and life. This is also what makes fashion democratic, because everybody wears clothes, and no one will ever get away with saying that clothes are not important.
And to disagree with Austen on one more point – clothes are about attraction. And sex. Just take a look at reactions to high heels, leather and anything tight-fitting for confirmation on how symbolically loaded the things we wear are. Of course, the conventional notion of clothes as a means to attract the opposite sex is also increasingly transitioning into that which subverts the male gaze, and that is where the more interesting conversation about fashion is taking place.
Therefore, to see fashion realistically, any analysis about it needs to evolve and develop in nuance beyond simplistic definitions. Virginia Woolf, who wrote the famous feminist treatise A Room of One’s Own, was much closer to the truth than Austen when she surmised in Orlando that “vain trifles as they seem, clothes have, they say, more important offices than to merely keep us warm. They change our view of the world and the world’s view of us.†Born slightly more than a century apart, both women’s views provide hope that fashion discourse does undergo continued refinement and will eventually help us to view the clothes on our backs with greater accuracy and ease.
Indeed, the criticisms leveled at fashion reveal a profound discomfort—if not anxiety—about the exteriority of things and a dogged refusal to see its validity, and as societies become increasingly complex cultural entities no longer defined by largely monolithic sensibilities, perhaps it’s time to concede how deeply un-superficial fashion is.
Image Credit:
Portrait of Jane Austen from Getty
[1] Jane Austen once famously described the humble scope of her work in a letter to her nephew, James Edward Austen-Leigh: “What should I do with your strong, manly, spirited sketches, full of variety and glow? How could I possibly join them on to the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work with so fine a brush, as Whoever, produces little effect after much labour?â€
Analysis: On the Importance of Clothes
When it comes to canonical British authors, Jane Austen is considered one of the most beloved amongst female readers in the English-speaking world, not least because of her strong presence in modern popular culture via drama serials or films.
Having been schooled in an education system inherited from the British, Austen has crossed my path more than a few times, and she is one of my favorite authors. Her intricately devised romance plots aside, Austen’s appeal lies in her close attention to the minutiae[1] of what was essentially the life of the English landed gentry, and she is one of Literature’s most famous feminists, despite her emphasis on the marriage market in Regency England. In fact,  it is this focus that accentuates the lack of autonomy that women of the time faced, where too much in life depended on making a favourable marital match.
However, what is exceptional about Austen is her incisive wit and ability to mock the foolish without being inordinately cruel. Quite simply, she bursts the bubble of any character lacking in self-awareness—and this occurs much more than you’d expect. Indeed, in exposing the inherent vanities we tend to attach ourselves overmuch to (as seen in the quote above) she comes across as simply articulating plain good sense (and crisp soundbytes, of course). Here is the quote in context:
She went home very happy. The morning had answered all her hopes, and the evening of the following day was now the object of expectation, the future good. What gown and what head-dress she should wear on the occasion became her chief concern. She cannot be justified in it. Dress is at all times a frivolous distinction, and excessive solicitude about it often destroys its own aim. Catherine knew all this very well; her great aunt had read her a lecture on the subject only the Christmas before; and yet she lay awake ten minutes on Wednesday night debating between her spotted and her tamboured muslin, and nothing but the shortness of the time prevented her buying a new one for the evening. This would have been an error in judgment, great though not uncommon, from which one of the other sex rather than her own, a brother rather than a great aunt, might have warned her, for man only can be aware of the insensibility of man towards a new gown. It would be mortifying to the feelings of many ladies, could they be made to understand how little the heart of man is affected by what is costly or new in their attire; how little it is biased by the texture of their muslin, and how unsusceptible of peculiar tenderness towards the spotted, the sprigged, the mull, or the jackonet. Woman is fine for her own satisfaction alone. No man will admire her the more, no woman will like her the better for it. Neatness and fashion are enough for the former, and a something of shabbiness or impropriety will be most endearing to the latter. But not one of these grave reflections troubled the tranquillity of Catherine (Northanger Abbey, Chapter 10).
Clearly, we are meant to derive humour from Catherine’s neurosis about impressing a man with her attire. I particularly enjoy how Austen deftly describes the sheer oblivion that men have towards the “the texture of their muslin†and the glee that women have in a less than stellar appearance in a fellow female in one neat sentence.
However, while I agree with Austen about undue—and unseemly, even—preoccupations with clothes, I’m not sure whether I agree that “dress is at all times a frivolous distinction.†While most people would bring in the big gun arguments about superficiality and the objectification of women, that has become a lazy approach.
Clothes, and by extension, fashion, can certainly be used for unhealthy ends by the vain or by those looking for a shortcut to social status. That’s not to mention the body image issues they cause and their role in fuelling capitalism. However, while I appreciate these concerns and understand why those with serious aspirations and are fighting for gender equality tend to distance themselves from fashion, our garments embody far more than these criticisms. To insist that they deal entirely with the exterior is misinformed at the very least.
To begin, fashion is one of the best chronicles of social history, intersecting with everything from politics, economics, culture, power and prevailing notions of identity This alone would warrant close attention and study. Moreover, it reflects what went through the minds of craftsmen and aesthetes from different eras as they lived and worked, and how they filtered their ideas about the past as well as the future into creating what they understand as the present.
The clothes we wear are also as deeply personal as they are astoundingly public, being one of the first points of contact that any stranger has with you. It is a powerful mode of expression and self-representation that tells you a lot about what a person thinks about themselves as they navigate society and life. This is also what makes fashion democratic, because everybody wears clothes, and no one will ever get away with saying that clothes are not important.
And to disagree with Austen on one more point – clothes are about attraction. And sex. Just take a look at reactions to high heels, leather and anything tight-fitting for confirmation on how symbolically loaded the things we wear are. Of course, the conventional notion of clothes as a means to attract the opposite sex is also increasingly transitioning into that which subverts the male gaze, and that is where the more interesting conversation about fashion is taking place.
Therefore, to see fashion realistically, any analysis about it needs to evolve and develop in nuance beyond simplistic definitions. Virginia Woolf, who wrote the famous feminist treatise A Room of One’s Own, was much closer to the truth than Austen when she surmised in Orlando that “vain trifles as they seem, clothes have, they say, more important offices than to merely keep us warm. They change our view of the world and the world’s view of us.†Born slightly more than a century apart, both women’s views provide hope that fashion discourse does undergo continued refinement and will eventually help us to view the clothes on our backs with greater accuracy and ease.
Indeed, the criticisms leveled at fashion reveal a profound discomfort—if not anxiety—about the exteriority of things and a dogged refusal to see its validity, and as societies become increasingly complex cultural entities no longer defined by largely monolithic sensibilities, perhaps it’s time to concede how deeply un-superficial fashion is.
Image Credit:
Portrait of Jane Austen from Getty
[1] Jane Austen once famously described the humble scope of her work in a letter to her nephew, James Edward Austen-Leigh: “What should I do with your strong, manly, spirited sketches, full of variety and glow? How could I possibly join them on to the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work with so fine a brush, as Whoever, produces little effect after much labour?â€
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