The Clothes Make the Man

I noticed a little while ago that I behave a little better if I am wearing nice clothes. If I am donning a button up shirt, slacks, and a tie, my patience and professionalism go up, my confidence is boosted, and I do believe my voice takes on a slightly lower, manlier tone. I even fell a mite taller. I drive a little slower and am more gracious to other drivers and pedestrians. And on the days I tie a Double-Windsor around my neck, well!—I could be positively civil to Aunt Sponge, Aunt Spiker, the Queen of Hearts, the Wicked Witch of the West, every fairytale stepmother and step sister, and Rachel Lynde.*

Do clothes make the man?

Conversely, if I wear those clothes to the auto parts store, I don’t feel quite as confident or adept as when I sport old jeans and a greasy t-shirt. And, my driving isn’t so polite. (“Out of my way, ye peasants, for 'tis I, Toad the Traffic-queller, Toad the Mighty, Toad the Scorcher!")**

In fact, Kenneth Grahame’s Toad is a perfect example of this. Whenever Toad takes up a new, eccentric, and expensive hobby, he must have the clothes to go with it. His friends Rat, Mole, and Badger know this, and when they take it upon themselves to cure Toad of his addiction to automobiles, the first thing they do is tell Toad to take his driving togs off. Here; read as Badger begins the process:

“Now then!” he said to the Toad, when the four of them stood together in the Hall, “first of all, take those ridiculous things off!”

`Shan't!” replied Toad, with great spirit. “What is the meaning of this gross outrage? I demand an instant explanation.”

“Take them off him, then, you two,” ordered the Badger briefly.

[Rat and Mole] had to lay Toad out on the floor, kicking and calling all sorts of names, before they could get to work properly. Then the Rat sat on him, and the Mole got his motor-clothes off him bit by bit, and they stood him up on his legs again. A good deal of his blustering spirit seemed to have evaporated with the removal of his fine panoply. Now that he was merely Toad, and no longer the Terror of the Highway, he giggled feebly and looked from one to the other appealingly, seeming quite to understand the situation.

See? I think Toad and I may be a bit of the same mettle. Toad does carry it a bit far, though—farther than me, I’m sure. I mean, his personality being affected by his clothing is so strong it nearly prevents him from escaping jail. The jailor’s daughter has a plan that will benefit toad and her poor aunt.

“Toad,” she said presently, “just listen, please. I have an aunt who is a washerwoman.”

“There, there,” said Toad, graciously and affably, “never mind; think no more about it. I have several aunts who ought to be washerwomen.”

“Do be quiet a minute, Toad,” said the girl. “You talk too much, that's your chief fault, and I'm trying to think, and you hurt my head. As I said, I have an aunt who is a washerwoman…I think if she were properly approached…you could come to some arrangement by which she would let you have her dress and bonnet and so on, and you could escape from the castle as the official washerwoman. You're very alike in many respects--particularly about the figure.”

“We're not,” said the Toad in a huff. “I have a very elegant figure--for what I am.”

“So has my aunt,” replied the girl, “for what she is. But have it your own way. You horrid, proud, ungrateful animal, when I'm sorry for you, and trying to help you!”

“Yes, yes, that's all right; thank you very much indeed,” said the Toad hurriedly. “But look here! You wouldn't surely have Mr. Toad of Toad Hall, going about the country disguised as a washerwoman!”

And then Toad, dressed as a washerwoman, realizes he has no money to board a train. But, with his new clothes, his new role is no trouble at all.

“O, sir!” said Toad, crying afresh, “I am a poor unhappy washerwoman, and I've lost all my money, and can't pay for a ticket, and I must get home to-night somehow, and whatever I am to do I don't know. O dear, O dear!”

“That's a bad business, indeed,” said the engine-driver reflectively. “Lost your money--and can't get home--and got some kids, too, waiting for you, I dare say?”

“Any amount of 'em,” sobbed Toad. “And they'll be hungry--and playing with matches--and upsetting lamps, the little innocents!--and quarrelling, and going on generally. O dear, O dear!”

Well, anyway, how is it that clothing can hold such sway over some of us? I suppose the first step in solving such a problem is admitting it, but it may also mean that I’ll have to stop selecting clothes on the basis of price alone. Generally I’ll ignore size if it’s somewhat close and color if it’s not too offensive and cut or style if it means saving $30. But, I might be selling my character short here; I may be putting myself in moral danger!

I have been aware of this, I think, for quite some time in some sort of semi-conscious way, but then I discovered how L. M. Montgomery articulated it so well through her character, Anne of Green Gables. She said, “It is so much easier being good when one is wearing fashionable clothing.”

Well. What else can I say? Nothing, except that it appears we can give people fine clothing to wear. I don’t mean clothing of threads and buttons, but character clothing—a clothing of expectation. Margery Sharp’s Miss Bianca said it so well when she mused that “People told they are generous and open-minded often discover that they really are, so that flattery of the right kind…does nothing but good.”

* I noticed immediately that my haphazard list of children’s books’ antagonists were all women. That wasn’t intentional; they were just the ones that came to mind. Who are the really evil male antagonists of children’s literature? Surely there are some.

** Read The Wind in the Willows online!