Wednesday, September 1, 2010
hausting, especially when carrying large books around. With this particularly uncomfortable weather, I experienced an equally uncomfortable question: what do I wear to class?
This is not a question that I ask myself often, probably because I haven't been reading fuss-budgety clothing stories in our rag of the trade: The Chronicle of Higher Education. And that is a good thing because every time I do read a story on scholarly dressing, I become so annoyed that I want to deconstruct it, as well as my closet, stat.
The most recent article on clothing and--oy vey--professorial *hotness* was brought to my attention by the smart scholars and dressers chez In Professorial Fashion.
The "classic" and original take on academic clothing (in the words of the Chronicle's Ms. Mentor) is this piece, also from the Chronicle. In it, Mr. Mentor notes that professors should err on the side of frumpiness and former enfant terrible, now cranky senior terrible Camille Pagila thinks that professors who demonstrate their personal style--even their personality--engage in a "corruption of education."
But seriously, presenting a drab physical shell doesn't consequently shine a brighter light on the ideas that one puts forth.
If this prof owned the above Louis Vuitton ensemble (I like how it's shown sideways), I would gladly wear it to class, perhaps one on the Bronte sisters or Edith Wharton. NY Mag labels it "relaxed up top" (above the cut line) and a "party down below."
I don't want to--and don't think we need to--toe the dingy party line that the Chronicle has been espousing, especially when there are so many glorious shoes to be worn.