As a retiree, I get to play with the ideas in casual ways that might have been unacceptable in my scholarly life. Take, for instance, a clever 2012 study by Hajo Adam and Adam D. Galinsky that explores how clothes affect performance. When college students donned a lab coat and were told it was a doctor’s coat, they attended more carefully and performed better on a test requiring concentration. The same coat, hanging on a nearby hook, didn’t produce that effect. Nor did wearing the same coat when it was identified as an artist’s smock rather than doctorwear. Clearly, the effect was about the meaning the students assigned to the garments.
Now my world is filled with thought experiments about what Adam and Galinsky call “enclothed cognition.” Might we, for example, think of baby outfits as “enclothed projections?” What effect does children’s clothing have on their future adult selves? Wearers of NY Yankees t-shirts, together with trips to the ballpark, are likely to result in another generation of fans. But gendered kiddy clothing seems to have had little effect on people who become trans — or perhaps it’s a negative effect. My own grandchildren have been carefully dressed by their parents in organic cottons with mushroom prints. The older of the two now only wants “sports clothes,” despite the fact that his athletic skills are limited. Who knows, without such sports outfits he may show even less promise.
Work outfits certainly change our perceptions of self as well as others’ perceptions of us. Think of a military or a bellhop’s uniform. I once knew a New York police officer, stationed mostly on subways, who hated plainclothes assignments. “When people recognize you as a cop,” he said, “they sort of behave. They don’t want to be caught. But when you’re in your own clothes — this goes double for me because I’m Black—they are not at all afraid to act up.” The question from the enclothed cognition perspective is different: Did the cop behave differently in his uniform than he did in regular clothes? Did he notice different behaviors? Did he react more or less strongly to misbehavior?
I have a number of elderly friends who are house-bound; some dress up, have their hair done, put on make-up, even if staying put for the day. I suspect that in their twenties or thirties, or even their fifties, these same friends would have happily ignored such ornamentation — but now it makes them feel ready to engage the world. Those who don’t get dressed in the morning (elderly or not) and graze in their night clothes all day not only present themselves as tired, but perhaps (I am guessing now) may well feel less energetic and less alert than they would in a running suit and sneakers.
To me, an even more interesting research question would be: Does going with or without a bra make a difference in how one engages the world?
Research possibilities abound. Did antisemites in Nazi Germany react differently to the armbands Jews were made to wear than antisemites do when they see someone wearing a Star of David necklace? Do the ceremony and the garb associated with adolescent circumcision in Muslim tradition change the way the young man sees himself? Would wearing the vestments of a church deacon make one lead a choir with more fervor?
Clothing, especially with symbols, clearly serves to tie people to their tribe and effectively builds walls between them and others. But remember, the studies of enclothed cognition assigned the wearers to an outfit — the effect was not anticipated nor was it chosen. How might you carry yourself or relate differently if you were forced to wear the outfit of a group you found abhorrent?
Finally, my favorite thought experiment: How does clothing contribute to one’s own joy or help others to have more fun? I heard about a recent wedding in Arizona where all the guests wore big cowboy hats. Did that make them kick up with more delight at the wedding dance? Or consider a party where guests were randomly assigned costumes and had to stay “in character.” Would that be more or less fun than dressing yourself? The multi-colored flags and banners at the Pride Parade in New York certainly seemed to give energy and joy to those in attendance.
I have spent a good bit of my career traveling to parts of the world where people don’t typically dress like me. And as a kind of thank-you gift, I am often presented with clothes of the culture. I am not sure that I always wear them correctly or at the right times, but I do love being able to slip into someone else’s fashions. It is often more comfortable for the climate and makes it easier to engage in local activities than Western wear. (When I realized how much easier it was for women to pee by the roadside in a long skirt, I was shocked!) On hot days, I still wear my African dress at home and on cold days, my academic regalia serves well as a comfortable robe for watching TV. Memories of the times and places where these clothes made sense still flutter in the shadows of my mind.
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Wendy Saul retired as Professor of Education and International Studies at the University of Missouri-St Louis and now lives in Stone Ridge, NY. Her most recent projects include the book, Thinking Like a Generalist (with Angela Kohnen, Stenhouse 2021), and hurleymtnstories.omeka.net, a website about a multi-racial, rural community, 1800-1950.
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ALTE #13, on the topic, “Disguise,” is now available for viewing — best on a computer screen rather than your phone. Let us hear from you once you’ve had a look: altetogether@gmail.com.