Seeing is Believing

Standing on the station platform this morning, along with myself and a rag-tag collection of tired misfits, was a soldier. I cannot be more specific than this, other than to say that he appeared to be in some kind of TA uniform. He was young though. Maybe a trainee. With the number of airfields and bases dotted about the county, seeing someone in uniform isn’t that much of a surprise.

There’s something about men in uniform, isn’t there? Not that I wanted to be whisked away in some mighty army machine, but there’s something kind of impressive about any person who’s willing to risk their own life and safety in the pursuit of the protection of others. Unknown others in fact – doctors, politicians, criminals, bank clerks – everyone. To protect everyone without prejudice seems like a pretty noble goal. Firemen, policemen, even doctors all command this same kind of respect the moment they don their uniform, whether it be a white coat and stethoscope, or army fatigues. It got me thinking about how important appearance is; how particular colours and garments cause us to react in different ways. For example, men in lab coats always make me feel a little nervous. Doctors wear them as they pour over charts, tutting over what could be wrong with you. Scientists wear them as they concoct dangerous chemical mixes. Men in police uniform seem to silently demand that you move out of their way and let them through. Whether it’s the people or the uniform I’m not sure, but there’s something surly about their demeanour that somehow always draws out of me a mild feeling of resentment. “Somebody” I think “has given these people too much authority.”

Even a suit can command respect. My father wore a suit to work every day for years, and to me he was an assertive and powerful man. I’ve always thought men look better in a suit and tie, though whether that’s some kind of weird Freudian thing, I don’t know. It’s important to never underestimate the importance of appearance. In fact if anything I probably worry about it too much. I don’t sit around and agonise about what skirt to wear for hours, but I do go into shops, look at clothes and think “What would people think of me if I wore this?” I see giant logos like “Bench” written on stuff. I’ve got no objection to a clothing line with that name, but is it the kind of thing I want printed on my backside the way they like to make their jogging pants? Furthermore, if I started wearing jogging pants, wouldn’t I look a bit on the chavvie side? Am I comfortable with that; is that an image I’d want to uphold?

Buying clothes has become, it would seem, an increasingly difficult activity. I like clothes with little or no logo, bold, cold colours, and other than that… what? Do I even have a “look”? I don’t think I do. I’m not a thesp, not a goth, not a chav, a gamer, a rocker, or a preppie looking idiot, I’m just… non-descript, which I’m not convinced is any better. We dress ourselves in a certain way because we like to feel that it expresses our character, but how much of an individual can any of us be when we’re all shopping in the same places, reading the same magazines and choosing one of a pre-determined set of looks created by someone else over the last 100 years or more?

I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.

Jury’s still out.