Not in the quotidian sense of facing your closet trying to figure out what to don for the day. The question is posed in search of a normative answer. Are there any longer basic rules for a liberal civil society to follow other than – you have to wear something that covers your crotch, ass-crack and nipples?
Can you just wear anything?
Obviously there are subsets of society that follow their own self-imposed prescriptions and proscriptions – hijab, kippahs, turbans, bonnets, no animal hides, no white pants after Labor Day, no black tie before six pm, nothing from last year’s collection, etc.
But I’m here looking for the limits of our collective wardrobe. Rules of dress have become so relaxed that almost anything goes nowadays. With the couture houses embracing street wear, sneakers and sweatpants can go almost anywhere. And while major metropolises have become so cosmopolitan that majorities have given way to pluralities, even in cities where majorities remain the digital age has broadened their view.
As a result, it seems that all rules of dress have been superseded by personal preference. And because the planet is ailing and we appear to be on the brink of extinction, ain’t no one got time for fussing over what anyone is or isn’t wearing. Those who are dedicating time to legislating dress codes are the reason we are 100 seconds away from midnight on the Doomsday Clock.
Imminent demise notwithstanding, every once in a while you see something that makes you dwell on the inconsequential. You set aside the weighty and momentous to think deep thoughts on the frivolous; though not without benefit.
Consider @markbryan911.
Mr. Bryan (he/him) tells us he is “just a straight, married guy, that (sic.) loves Porsches, beautiful women, and incorporating high heels and skirts into [his] daily wardrobe.”
If you’re in doubt, have a look.
One need not be steeped in semiotics to know that clothing carries meaning and that for meaning to work it must be, by and large, agreed among us.
If I walk the streets of any major city in a t-shirt with the words “Trump Trump 2024” printed on it, I am telling anyone who sees me that I am an imbecile. If a passerby gives me the finger or insults my intelligence, I could stop that person, show her my MENSA card and explain that I like to incorporate t-shirts that depict cataclysmic events in my daily wardrobe. She may then change her perception of me but odds are she would still have doubts.
Mr. Bryan’s case then illuminates the last remaining limitation on what you can wear – the meaning conveyed by your clothing. But for this constraint to have any effect on your sartorial choices, you must be interested in having a meaningful dialogue with society at large.
Mr. Bryan is then the exception that proves the rule. He is not communing with the real world in which he is physically living. His posts are of him, alone, posing in heels or walking in them. His bio assumes that you would misconstrue his sexual identity and straightens you out. He knows what his clothes “mean” by agreement among us.
And we know, from his Insta account, what his clothes don’t “mean”. He is not in pumps and a skirt to tell us something about gender. After all, he loves fast cars, beautiful women and stilettos – objects of desire that are stereotypically associated with unbridled testosterone and being a man.
If we are to take him at his word, Mr. Bryan just loves wearing skirts and heels. That is why he does it.
If he is not saying anything with his choice of attire, why, then, is he broadcasting on Instagram?
Because he likes the way he looks. Surprise!
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