I used to have a lot of suits.
Two years ago, when we began to prepare for the move we would eventually make, I counted them. I had 16.
Whether that sounds like a lot to you depends on what you do for a living. I imagine my lawyer friends have more than 16 suits. If you're a corporate type, you might have more. Some of us have to periodically go to functions that require a suit. Some guys might only need one or two for church and funerals. (Though I guess no one expects anyone to wear a suit to church or to a funeral anymore.)
Anyway, I don't mind wearing suits. When I got into the newspaper business they weren't exactly de rigueur, but they weren't uncommon either. Back then guys were expected to wear coats and ties. Women wore skirted suits and dresses. I wore a suit whenever it looked like I might have to go to court. Often I wore one when I went to do an interview because someone told me the interviewer should always try to dress just a little better than the interview subject.
Because, the theory went, the interview subject was likely to subconsciously perceive the better-dressed interviewer as an authority figure and take their questions more seriously.
I don't know if it worked, but it got me through the '80s.
Which, in some ways, feels like a long time ago. A few months ago, I saw a photograph of the staff of the now-defunct Shreveport Journal, circa 1985. We were all young and gorgeous and beautifully dressed. About half the men wore suits, the rest of us were in sport coats and slacks. I was wearing a raw silk jacket and some Nino Cerruti trousers soft enough to turneth away wrath. I remember those clothes; I miss those clothes.
I never minded wearing nice things; in any given situation, I'd rather be a little overdressed than underdressed. I reflexively put on sport coats--I count on Karen to tell me to when to trade one out for a leather jacket instead.
Still, in the late '80s, I detoured into alternative newspapers, where suits were only allowed if you'd picked them up at Goodwill or Salvation Army (I scored a lot of good stuff in thrift stores over the years; I'm sorry Savers moved on) and paired them with a Dinosaur Jr. T-shirt. When I came back to respectable newspapers in 1993, I dusted off my suits and put them back in rotation, but things had changed. Reporters were wearing jeans on Fridays.
So I started wearing jeans on Fridays, and even found myself sometimes defaulting to the Bob Greene uniform, which was something I swore I'd never do. (The Bob Greene uniform--named for the profoundly un-hip, calculating Chicago-based columnist whose sad slide from glory should serve as an object lesson to us all--consisted of sneakers, khakis, a button-down blue oxford cloth shirt open at the neck with a loosened tie and a rumpled blazer.)
One of the reasons journalists started dressing more casually was because the nature of our jobs changed. When I was coming up, the mantra of the city desk was there was "no news happening in the newsroom." We made a lot of telephone calls, but it was always better to meet sources face-to-face, to be on the scene, to feel the vibe and pick up details.
But that's when newspapers were relatively flush and we had a lot of reporters, before technology made it possible to find out so much online. It's more efficient to work the phones and the Internet, to fire off emails. The old dress codes (as late as 1995 the Chicago Tribune was declaring the "business casual" trend confusing) were no longer in effect.
One day I showed up in a suit and a copy editor asked me if I had a job interview. That's when the suits went to the back of the closet. They came out only occasionally, if I had a group to speak to or a funeral to attend.
And about two years ago, when I looked into my closet and saw that I had 16 suits, I immediately donated half of them to charity. About a year after that, I halved the collection again. Now I have a blue pinstripe, an Obama tan, a nice brown Prince of Wales check and a sharp black Italian number.
I put on that sharp black Italian number last week and went down on a rainy Thursday night to the Statehouse Convention Center for one of those functions that requires a suit--a party celebrating the 200th anniversary of the founding of the Arkansas Gazette. Maybe you were there; about 900 of us were.
Former President Bill Clinton and journalism legend Ernie Dumas gave good speeches that didn't run long, and lots of kind words were said about newspapers and the people who put them out. Maybe you read something about it. It was a nice event, with good food and enough wine and plenty of mingling.
Karen said she didn't think she'd ever been at a party that large where she knew so many people. I remember looking out at the crowd and thinking I knew someone at almost every table, which was a weird sensation. I'm used to being lost in crowds, and my usual strategy when faced with having to attend a function that requires a suit is to check out the exits and leave early.
Which is not unusual among my tribe--as Karen's colleague Brenda Looper pointed out, a lot of us in this business are natural introverts. We like to observe more than engage. The skill that served me best when I was a cop reporter was the ability to blend into the background and remain unnoticed. My superpower was to become something like a fly on the wall. Mostly I dress to fit in, so these days I come to work in quarter-zips and jeans.
But while it obviously wasn't the most important thing about last week's function, I was struck by how good everyone looked in their finery. The women were all stunning; the guys all presentable. Recently retired colleague Jake Sandlin looked like a senator. By and large, the ilk cleaned up well.
Which makes me want to wear my remaining suits more often; maybe in my dotage I can become a style icon like Tom Wolfe in his ice cream ensemble or Murray Kempton in his three-piece suit and bicycle clips. Probably not. But owning four suits seems OK.
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Philip Martin is a columnist and critic for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at pmartin@arkansasonline.com and read his blog at blooddirtandangels.com.
Editorial on 11/26/2019