A Brief Note on the Material Basis of Identity by Jazz Griffin

Jazz Griffin: the Invisible Punk

 (SA/2025) [1] 

 

 

I. 

 

A recently published post on the way in which my memory of the past is inextricably interwoven with the suits I was wearing during the different stages of my life [2] has brought me (once more) to the conclusion that clothes do indeed maketh the man ... [3].  

 

I might not go so far as to say that if we went around naked we'd have no memories, no history, no culture, but, on the other hand, it's certainly the case that items of dress (and other personal objects) play a crucial role in anchoring the self and remembering the past. 

 

Having the memory of a goldfish and lacking a strong sense of self, I'm not at all certain I'd recall the people I've met, the places I've been, or the things I've done, were it not for the fact that I still have (some of) the jackets, trousers, shirts, ties, and shoes stuffed in the back of my wardrobe (although diaries, notebooks, and photo albums obviously act as vital aides-mémoire too).

 

Indeed, I'm pretty sure that had you unstrapped the straps, unzipped the zips, and stripped me of the tartan bondage suit I was wearing (aged 21) in the above photo, I'd have vanished before your very eyes, like Jack Griffin as he slowly unwound his bandages [4]. 

 

 

II. 

 

We might conclude, therefore, that just as it's language that speaks us (and not vice versa) [5], so too do our clothes wear us (so to speak) and not the other way round; something which the most philosophical of fashion historians, designers, and researchers interested in enclothed cognition [6] have long appreciated.

 

In other words, our lives are literally fabricated; cut out and stitched together from a pattern like a well-tailored suit and finished with individual details.    

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This image is based on a photo from 1984 in which the model is wearing a tartan bondage suit, seditionaries-style boots, and a McLarenettes Punk It Up T-shirt 

 

[2] See the post entitled 'Suits You, Sir!' (5 July 2025): click here.

 

[3] The idea that clothing plays a crucial role in not only how men and women present themselves to the world and are perceived by others, but in actually constructing identity is, of course, as old as the hills and variations of the phrase clothes maketh the man can be traced back, like most things, to the Ancient Greeks. For those who spoke Latin, like Erasmus, author of a famous collection of proverbs and adages at the beginning of the 16th century, the phrase read: vestis virum facit. 

      Those moralists who think the opposite - i.e., that clothes don't make the man - and who drone on about inner qualities and a person's true character or substance being more important than appearance are, in my view, philosophically naive.

      Readers who are interested in this can click here for a post published on 31 May 2023 that touches on the topic with reference to the coronation of King Charles III. And for a post on how clothes maketh the woman - with reference to the queer case of Nellie March in D. H. Lawence's novella The Fox (1922) - click here.          

 

[4] Jack Griffin is the name of the chemist played by Claude Rains in the 1933 film The Invisible Man, directed by James Whale, and loosely based on the novel of that title by H. G. Wells (1897). Click here for the big reveal scene on YouTube. 

 

[5] This idea of language speaking man is usually attributed to Heidegger. It challenges the traditional view of language as a tool humans use to express themselves by suggesting that the internal logic, structure, and history of language actively shapes our thinking and understanding of the world. See, for example, what he writes in his essay 'Language', in Poetry, Language, Thought, trans. Albert Hofstadter (Harper Perennial, 1975), pp. 189-210. 

 

[6] Enclothed cognition refers to the influence that clothing has on the wearer's thoughts, feelings, actions, and behaviours. The term was coined by Hajo Adam and Adam D. Galinsky who have been experimenting in this area since 2012. See their study in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology Volume 48, Issue 4, (July 2012), pp. 918-925. The abstract and excerpts from the report can be read here.  

 

 

Finally, readers who want to know more might like to read Memories of Dress: Recollections of Material Identities, ed. Alison Slater, Susan Atkin, and Elizabeth Kealy-Morris (Bloomsbury, 2023). Do note, however,  that I've not yet read this collection of essays, so can't says whether it's worth the RRP of £85 for the hardback edition (or even the RRP of £28.99 for the paperback). 

 

 

Vestis virum facit

King Charles waves to the crowds and the cameras from the balcony 

of Buckingham Palace following his coronation (6 May 2023) 

knowing full-well that beneath the clothes he remains allzumenschliche

 

"Look at the waxwork head - the face, with the expression of a melon - the projecting ears ..."

 

 

I. 

 

The recent Coronation of King Charles III was a spectacular demonstration of how clothes remain a crucial means of signifying wealth, power, and social distinction. 

 

For all his desire to modernise the royal family, there was never any possibility that Charles would adopt a more casual (less regal) look (even if he did swap breeches for a pair of trousers).  

 

And so: 

 

(i) His Majesty rocked up at Westminster Abbey wearing a robe of red velvet and an ermine cape ...

 

(ii) Following his annointing, Charles put on a tunic similar to a priest's vestment in order to symbolise the divine nature of monarchy ...

 

(iii) When the jewel-encrusted St. Edward's Crown was placed upon his weary head, he wore a gold-sleeved robe, embroidered with flowers, beneath the Imperial Mantle ...

 

(iv) Finally, at the close of the ceremony, the King changed into a newly-made purple satin Coronation Tunic, trimmed with gold artillery lace, and George VI's grand purple silk velvet Robe of Estate.      

 

The point is: there was nothing subtle about this ostentatious display and if clothes maketh the man, they also maketh the monarch - something noted by Mark Twain in his short story 'The Czar's Soliloquy' [1] ...

 

 

II.

 

After taking his morning bath, it was the Russian emperor's habit to look at himself in a large mirror and reflect upon his own physical limitations: "Naked, what am I? A libel on the image of God!" 

 

He realises that what invokes awe and reverence in his people are his magnificent robes: "Without my clothes I should be as destitute of authority as any other naked person." 

 

In other words, without his fine robes, his magnificent crown, his titles, etc., he is - like King Charles - an old man without substance; "a cipher, a vacancy, a nobody, a nothing". 

 

It is the trappings of kingship that conceal his essential emptiness and which "move a nation to fall on its knees".

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Mark Twain, 'The Czar's Soliloquy', North American Review, Issue 580 (March 1905), pp. 321-26: click here to read on JSTOR. Lines quoted from the story are on pp. 321-322.

      Note that although the saying clothes make the man is often associated with Mark Twain, it didn't originate with him. In fact, it was already popular during the Middle Ages and can be found, for example, in the work of the great Dutch philosopher and theologian, Erasmus, who recorded it in his collection of Greek and Latin proverbs as vestis virum facit [Adagia: 3.1. 60].