If you are not clad correctly, you can be considered a clod.
Since we are obsessed with how people look, we become doubly possessed with what people wear. I was always amused by the phrase, “dress for success.”
What does that mean?
If I’m leading a safari in Africa, Bermuda shorts and a pith helmet would be in order. Yet I assume they wouldn’t welcome me into a party in Hollywood dressed that way.
As always, the American culture has defined success as flamboyantly displaying wealth in such a way that you convince others that you’re prosperous. So nowadays it’s not good enough to wear a nice suit of clothes if the designer is not considered rad, and in the hierarchy of the profession.
We have people who do nothing but stare and glare at the garments of those who arrive at to the Oscars, deciding who is best dressed and who should have stayed home, embarrassed over costume.
I’ve coined a phrase which sums up much of what goes on in the daily humdrum of American dialogue: arrogantly irrelevant.
Not only does it lack purpose, but it puffs itself up to believe that being significant is not nearly as important as coming across as contemporary and beautiful.
What am I clad in?
There’s an old-fashioned idea that the best thing to be clad in is righteousness. Of course, then we have to realize that even that righteousness, when compared with greater beauty and deeper mission, can be “filthy rags.”