Showing posts with label how clothes maketh the man. Show all posts
Showing posts with label how clothes maketh the man. Show all posts

29 Dec 2014

The Prince and the Pauper

Look at this photo taken recently of Prince George; one of a series of shots released as a Christmas gift to the world's media by the Duke and Duchess of Kent:




Now look at this photo taken over the festive season of my nephew's little boy; one of a series of snaps circulated to friends and family by his proud parents:




Spot the difference? Obviously, George is several months older than baby Joshua, but that's not really what I'm getting at. Rather, what we see here is not age difference, but startling evidence for the violent and institutionalized inequality of expectation and opportunity that still exists in the UK. This may be a green and pleasant land, but so too is it one of outrageously uneven playing fields.

And so, in the first picture, we find a prince looking smug and self-satisfied as well he might. He wears cleverly coordinated and well-made clothes like a little royal dandy; no comedy costumes or infantalized outfits for him. He will get to know whilst still very young what it is to wear shirts that button and need ironing, as well as shoes that lace and need polishing.

On his jumper is a picture of one of his great-grandmother's soldiers, sworn to serve and protect him. Like his father and uncle Harry, he'll doubtless spend time in the military, learning what it is to be an officer and to give command. I don't know what steps he's sitting on - doubtless they are those of some palace or other - but they symbolize power and hierarchy; he might be at the bottom now, but one day he'll quite literally be king of the castle.

In the second picture, we find a subject of the Crown looking the happy idiot in his elf suit and already being trained to smile when he hears the words heigh-ho; to aspire to a position in Santa's toy factory, or some other dead-end job.

His clothes are manufactured for comfort, for convenience and for comic effect; t-shirts with slogans and sports shoes with rubber souls; no need for him to dress to impress or dress to kill. Rather, he can dress to chill and never have to worry about tying a Windsor knot or fastening a pair of cufflinks.    

People say it's wrong to envy the wealthy and privileged - and I don't envy them; it's loathing and contempt that speaks here. One can, I think, be legitimately angry and protest power differentials without falling into slave morality or ressentiment.

And so my new year message remains pretty much the same as it has always been; a call for regicide, revolution, and what might be termed cannibalistic class war - Eat the Rich!