The Case of Style v. Costume
Steve McQueen elevating costume to personal style
“Style, and more importantly personal style, requires embracing imperfection.”
“I know it when I see it.”
This famous phrase summarizing the test for obscenity in the case of Jacobellis v. Ohio is the same argument that I intend to make in the case of Style v. Costume. My argument I hope will earn the same praise of being "realistic and gallant," while I know it will have the risk of being equally personal and arbitrary.
I beg for the court’s forgiveness.
The question I have encountered myself and seen others struggle with, whether they realize it or not, is “is what I’m wearing Style or Costume?”
Let’s start with the first part of the equation that we’re interested in. Style: easy to recognize, but hard to define. While difficult to precisely describe, but remains the ultimate goal for many of us.
Style, and more importantly personal style, requires embracing imperfection.
“You have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself.”
– Miles Davis
Even in a seemingly rigid framework like “Ivy Style,” there exists a range within which to express your personal style. So much of that personal style lies in how you embrace the inherent “mistakes” in the style. Shirts get wrinkled, jackets are not perfectly tailored, and sweaters have holes in them. Expecting to present Ivy style without flaws is a deeply flawed approach if you want to avoid looking like a costumed mannequin. Anything that is somehow ruined with any kind of imperfection is probably more a costume than actual clothes. This danger eventually leads to looking like the pieces have been put together as perfectly as a jigsaw puzzle. Like a jigsaw puzzle, there is a rigidity in appearance that I argue is against the more easy, relaxed feel ingrained in the very ethos of Ivy style.
The need to keep a garment pristine implies a restriction to the natural motion of the wearer. Not just in terms of physical movement, but they start to consider the needs of the garment before their own desires. As if the garments are borrowed and must be treated so delicately that you can’t even go out to eat. The second a wearer reconsiders an activity for fear of somehow ruining their clothes, the clothes have begun to restrict enjoyment rather than enhancing it. The clothes are now wearing you.
It ultimately boils down to the relationship between the wardrobe and the wearer. Costume is when the clothes are the ends in themselves, but with actual style, the clothes are ultimately a means to more good times. When we start to treat ourselves as museum exhibits, of which we are also curator, we undermine the very joy we pursue. It’s just not as fun.
This is what renders most “inspiration,” mostly uninspiring. Everything is so calculated and precise, stuck in a feedback loop between the algorithm and indecision. Most of us are already familiar with the textbook, we want to see personal expression using that knowledge.
Learn the parts so well you can improvise on them, but not be bound by them.
“Costume is when the clothes are the ends in themselves, but with actual style, the clothes are ultimately a means to more good times.”
There is nothing wrong with taking inspiration from someone else’s example, that is one way to learn, but a common pitfall is when a person starts imitating what someone else is wearing, rather than how they’re wearing it. They follow an image and start to take personal pride in how perfectly they can emulate that format. What is “good” starts to be measured by how flawlessly they can copy that template. When something is so precious as to become brittle, the wearer doesn’t look relaxed because more than likely they are not.
We don’t wear clothes to simply take a picture in them, we wear them as we eat dinner, have coffee, dance around, walk in the rain, and occasionally throw them off.
Next time you take a last second look in the mirror and reach to make a final adjustment to your tie, reconsider how much perfection you want to ask of yourself. After all, that crooked tie worn with the right confidence could just be what sets you apart. Observers will know style when they see it.
I thank the jury for your time.
(This essay was originally written for the Navy Blazer Club magazine)