January 6, 2013 |
I remember when I was a young child, my mother sometimes said: “You always look twice at a man in uniform.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but over time I got the gist of it. She was part of what is now called The Greatest Generation, whose lives were dominated by the Second World War and its consequences. Her boyfriends, my father and my stepfather all wore uniforms during this global conflict, except for the few who had the fortunate misfortune of being rated physically unfit to serve – a draft rating that seemed to forever exclude a male from the alpha pack and dim his desirability toward zilch.
Even women put on uniforms, whether they were in the female branches of the service, or in some volunteer civil defence or medical outfit. But what I think my mother meant was that uniforms were sexy, in a sort of roundabout way. Darwinists, take note.
Okay, the first time you look at a man in uniform, you see the uniform first. That is, you see a branch and a rank and maybe a specialty and signs of distinction in the form of ribbons and small metallic devices indicative of battles, wounds and distinguishing abilities. The second time you look at a man in uniform… you see a man, flesh and blood, ordinary or handsome. The first time you see how he ranks in the hierarchy of the war machine, the second time how he ranks in biology and… chemistry. The first time you see whether he’s an officer and a gentleman or an enlisted man and a grunt, the second time you begin to sort out how he fills the uniform out. Are you packing a side arm, or are you glad to see me?
Kids don’t get this right off. But I came to understand that, generally, women had a thing for guys in uniform. The uniform gives its wearer a little extra something that, as a civilian, he simply lacked. As a kid, I loved uniforms. Or, maybe, costumes would be more accurate. I had a full khaki outfit with a Sam Browne belt and a peaked cap. I think it made me feel empowered and better able to slip into the bloody black-and-white war dramas that were staples of television then. I was a small, unarmed Kraut-and-Jap killer.
By the time I was in college, I was clearly not in uniform, but it was wartime (Vietnam). I was looking as unmilitary as possible, with Jesus hair and beard, and I interpreted that old maxim differently. Indeed, I always looked twice at a man in uniform. Firstly to see what fascist outfit he was with and if he saw me, and the second time to see if he was following me. Of course, I’m talking mostly about the po[ITALS]-lice here, but there were also times where we rebels at the barricades faced down National Guard troops, the very same who had gunned down and killed four student protesters at Kent State University in Ohio. But in times of strife we can, to some extent, assume that a man in a uniform is packing and has the ability to blow you away if he so desires.
Oh, but the fellows in the uniforms, I can assure you, look at them entirely differently, especially the volunteers. Many of them were lured by that uniform to sign up. That uniform made them feel like somebody. They looked at the uniform in much the same way I did at the age of eight. They were wearing empowering proof of authority, accomplishments and distinctions. Obviously, they were now someone, even if they had been, previously or always, a nobody. The uniform enhanced them, gave them the power, dignity and respect that they lacked in civvies. Hopefully, women now looked at them twice.
In the animal kingdom we are used to the male being the splendid one. A female peacock is strictly second rate. Charles Darwin explained in The Origin of Species: “I willingly admit that a great number of male animals, as all our most gorgeous birds, some fishes, reptiles, and mammals, and a host of magnificently coloured butterflies, have been rendered beautiful for beauty’s sake. But this has been effected through sexual selection, that is, by the more beautiful males having been continually preferred by the females, and not for the delight of man.”
In the human animal, and in civilian culture, the females have done quite well in the beauty department. They are generally considered to dominate it. Their clothes are more striking. Their physical attributes are more heralded. But when it comes to man’s aggressive side, beauty and flamboyance have been quite competitive. From the earliest times, men under arms have often been attired spectacularly.
The idea of the uniforms is basic. The uniform separates us from them. One of its earliest forms is still used today on basketball courts and football pitches around the world: shirts vs skins. The Irish had an intriguing variant on skins, in which they would strip naked and paint themselves blue with woad. Theoretically, the blue paint, the sight of their unadorned bodies and the sheer size of them would be enough to put most armies to flight. But intimidation that might have worked against swords was unsuccessful against archers, and the Romans prevailed. Still, uniforms tended toward the exotic and the elaborate in order to instil pride and esprit de corps, while intimidating the enemy with wealth and magnificence.
In classical and medieval times, military men wore armour and sometimes details or plumage indicating rank, but more often than not, the uniform was really a matter of ethnic dress – such as the tartan of the Celt – and many famous military units would incorporate such folk influences into their uniforms. Orders of knights wore distinctive tunics, such as the red cross of the Templars, or the black cross of the Teutonic Knights, but the uniform really came of age with nationalism. As armies became more organised, their dress became more distinctive and specific. You could recognise an army or a regiment by its colours, and the early uniforms tended to resemble the livery of servants. Officers bought their own clothing and often designed it themselves, competing in terms of splendour and luxury, with complex workmanship and lavish use of fur, feathers and gilt.
Wealthy officers vied with one another to create the most extravagantly dressed units. The great dandy Beau Brummell found his way into elite society by joining the 10th Royal Hussars, a regiment of the sons of dukes and earls, headed by the Prince of Wales, who would become George IV. The hussars took their look from the elite Hussars or Hungarian light cavalry of Frederick the Great. Many of the innovations in civilian dress made by Brummell and his followers were based on military dress, such as trousers modelled after Hussar riding breeches, Hessian riding boots and the cravat, which was first worn by Croatian mercenaries.
England’s greatest military hero, the man who defeated the dandy Napoleon, Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington, was known as The Beau; he wore white trousers, a dark tunic, Hessian boots and a black cocked hat. He gave his name to a style of boots that remains popular today, while the commander of the Prussian Army that stood with him at Waterloo, General von Blücher, gave his name to a shoe he designed for his troops that became a global standard.
Probably the most famous battle after Waterloo (1815) was the Battle of Balaclava in the Crimean War (1854), the scene of the famous Charge of the Light Brigade, a disastrous gambit immortalised by Tennyson. The British force was commanded by the 1st Baron Raglan, who had lost an arm at Waterloo, and because of the consequent deformity of his shoulder had adopted a new style of coat that bears his name today. The cavalry charge against the Russians was commanded by James Thomas Brudenell, the 7th Earl of Cardigan, a decadent aristocratic martinet whose appetite for the sort of ostentatious uniforms that inspired Sgt Pepper and Michael Jackson was resented by career officers who had served in the colonies and lacked a private income. Today he is best known for the sweater named after him. Even the battle has lent its name to an item of clothing, the ski mask that was first worn by troops in the Ukraine.
One of the more exotic uniforms was that of the Zouaves, originally a unit of volunteer Berber warriors in the French army, first raised in Algeria in 1831, which was soon recognised as an elite force. They were known for their short, open jackets, baggy red trousers, sashes and red fezzes. Various Zouave-inspired forces appeared over the years, including more than 70 regiments of American Zouaves in the Union Army, several Zouave units in the Confederate Army, and the Polish Zouaves of Death. Unquestionably, it was the striking retro uniform that drove enlistments.
The closest thing to the extravagance of the Zouaves’ uniform today is the gear of the US Marines, especially their striking Dress Blues, essentially unchanged since the 19th century, which have long been a powerful inducement for the Corps. The same sort of traditional appeal is found in the US Navy, where sailors still wear the almost-ancient “cracker jack” uniform, with laced-back bell-bottoms done up in front with 13-button flaps, and yoked jumper blouses with plunging necklines and neckerchief ties. Everybody loved the sailor look – women loved it, and men, too, and swinging both ways was an ancient navy tradition, dating back to the all-male crews and the long cruises. They were very Billy Budd. New York City still gets excited when “The fleet’s in!”
Military superstars have always understood the glamour of the uniform, and many of the legendary generals of recent history have put considerable thought into their own uniforms and those of their men. General Douglas MacArthur, the dramatic Chief of Staff of the US Army who commanded the Pacific Theater in the Second World War, was noted for his extravagant uniforms. His peaked cap was more peaked and laden with a huge amount of gilt trim known as “scrambled eggs”. He wore a Sam Browne belt to hold his pistol, and had aiguillettes, or braided cords, hanging from his epaulettes. When he was fired by President Truman, he made a speech wearing a custom-made double-breasted zip jacket designed for him by a British safari outfitter. He was also known for having an oversized corn-cob pipe jutting from his jaws.
General George Patton was a stickler for uniform conformity among his troops, fining men who didn’t shave daily or wear their leggings, but for himself he favoured a rather nonconformist look, wearing riding trousers, cavalry boots and a highly polished helmet emblazoned with four stars. He actually designed the last US Cavalry sabre produced. He carried two ivory-handled, nickel-plated Colt revolvers and, later, a Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum. For extra flair Patton carried a swagger stick, a sort of riding crop, but his had a hidden blade inside, like a sword cane.
Even the low-key Supreme Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower was noted for the Eisenhower jacket, a standard uniform item that he requested as a highly practical field jacket. Based on the British field jacket that Ike admired, it was waist length, with a bloused back that allowed freedom of movement, and a convertible storm collar. The design was so good it became the prototype for the famous Schott Brothers Perfecto motorcycle jacket and the Levi’s 501 denim jacket.
Civilian dress continues to flirt with uniformity. Men want to belong and be enhanced by the solidarity of the group. And so bankers in white shoe firms wear dark grey suits, white shirts and quiet ties, and never wear white shoes except on the squash court. Men wear ties that proclaim their allegiance to their old school or their club. Politicians and those who would suck up to them now wear flags on the lapels of their suits, so everyone will know what country they are rooting for. Légion d’honneur holders wear a discreet red stitch on their lapels. Even members of secret societies feel the need to advertise theirs with compass and square.
While enthusiasm for war seems to have declined dramatically, we never seem to tire of the military influence in fashion. In the 20th century we’ve seen the trench coat, khakis, the pea coat, the windbreaker, the flight jacket and even combat boots become civilian standards. Epaulettes recur like planetary transits. Camouflage has moved from surplus military items to fashion trousers, ties, sport jackets, and even suits.
Meanwhile, because of the nature of the wars we’re fighting, the look of our boys overseas evolves constantly – camouflage has moved from jungle green to desert tan and brown. We see American soldiers in Afghanistan bucking the rules with beards that would be the envy of Bushwick, wearing wraparound shades and keffiyeh scarves. Beards are a sign of manliness in Afghanistan and our army should be able to look as manly and scary as their enemies. A particularly enlightened ruling was made on this subject by one of America’s greatest modern officers, Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, who wrote in 1970: “…in the case of haircuts, sideburns, and contemporary clothing styles, my view is that we must learn to adapt to changing fashions. I will not countenance the rights or privileges of any officers or enlisted men being abrogated in any way because they choose to grow sideburns or neatly trimmed beards or moustaches or because preferences in neat clothing styles are at variance with the taste of their seniors, nor will I countenance any personnel being in any way penalized during the time they are growing beards, moustaches, or sideburns”.
Unfortunately, Admiral Zumwalt’s decision was reversed 16 years later, but now that “don’t ask, don’t tell” has brought a more enlightened outlook to the military, perhaps they’ll eventually understand that looking good by the standards of the troops themselves is the best to encourage pride and esprit de corps.
Combat boots are now part of the young civilian kit, and we are seeing a lot of Great War-style greatcoats in olive and black that would look at home in a fashionable army. For fall, 3.1 Phillip Lim showed the “elegant anarchist” – I guess the sort of occupy-uptown militia look – which featured a digitized hound’s-tooth seemingly inspired by modern digital camo, but actually looking more like First World War dazzle ships, a form of camouflage based more on op art-style disorientation than blending in. Olive drab greatcoats were everywhere, even the relatively civilian Dries Van Noten. Burberry Prorsum was very into combat jackets with their own Eisenhower jackets and lots of olive drab quilted fieldwear. Kris Van Assche called the fall Dior Homme collection A Soldier on My Own. And it was very much what a modernist army would look like, mostly olive and dress grey, with military-style tunics, ponchos (some big enough to double as pup tents), bomber jackets, greatcoats and military-style baseball caps. I couldn’t help but think how the Dior army looked very Starship Troopers. Jean Paul Gaultier’s eclectic collection included camouflage knits and what might pass for urban camouflage, as long as you could find a brick building to stand in front of.
The fall season’s Galliano-less Galliano had quite a lot of military style – four looks came complete with olive drab helmet – but we seemed mainly interested in the First World War, so everyone seemed dressed for motorcycle sidecars and biplanes and the horse’s last gasp.
It would be incredibly interesting to see the usual process reversed and have fashion designers participating in uniform design. We probably haven’t seen much of that since the days officers wore bespoke uniforms and much of the business of Savile Row firms, such as Gieves & Hawkes, Dee & Skinner and Denman & Goddard, was in uniforms. Incidentally, Gieves & Hawkes have the distinction of having designed the fancy military jackets worn by Lord Nelson and Michael Jackson.
Although there is no overt military influence in Thom Browne’s last collection, there are plenty of ideas that could be incorporated into military looks. His giant shouldered jackets and padded trousers might bring the concept of intimidation – the old “let’s get nude and paint ourselves blue” idea – into the 21st century. Imagine facing an army of Hulk-like physiques. Spiked heads and spiked seams and face-covering gear, seemingly inspired by executioners’ hoods via Leigh Bowery, also inspire the intimidating imagination. John Galliano was a genius at fashions that suggested Mongol hordes. If I were the US Marine Corps I’d give Browne a shot at redoing the uniform. If there are trouble spots around the world, we might just send in our boys and just looking at them might scare the shit out of the troublemakers.
I wouldn’t say that every man should have a uniform – although when I’m in a grey suit and white shirt and tie I almost feel as if I am – but in many ways, a tuxedo is a uniform and it’s the one I’m most comfortable in. It expresses exactly what a uniform is supposed to: solidarity and respect. But I think every man should also have something approaching combat gear. I have a nice army jacket and khakis from Supreme, both modelled after the real thing, and when I’m wearing my black leather Brando/Ike jacket with boots and a watch cap pulled down, I feel satisfyingly scary. You never know when scary might come in handy.
by Glenn O’Brien
