It's back--the annual start of school debate over what law professors should wear to class. (The ABA Journal has a roundup from the last go round.)
Bennett Capers began the discussion this time, noting that:
We’ve all heard the expression “clothes make the man.” But do clothes also make the professor? Especially if the professor looks young enough to be a student, or is female, or a person of color, or LGBT, or some combination of the above? And am I the only one, at the start of yet another school year, thinking about this?
One of my favorite quotes from an article I wrote about appearance and the law, Cross Dressing and the Criminal, comes from Allison Lurie. In The Language of Clothes, she wrote: “For thousands of years human beings have communicated with one another first in the language of dress. Long before I am near enough to talk to you on the street, in a meeting, or at a party, you announce your sex, age and class to me through what you are wearing—and very possibly give me important information (or misinformation) as to your occupation, origin, personality, opinions, tastes, sexual desires, and current mood. I may not be able to put what I observe into words, but I register the information unconsciously; and you simultaneously do the same for me. By the time we meet and converse we have already spoken to each other in an older and more universal tongue.”
Given the importance of this first impression, am I the only one that obsesses at the start of the school year about what to wear on the first day of class, down to what color tie to wear? And I’m curious. Given that professors who don’t naturally look professorial—I think you know what I mean—often have to do extra work to command respect and authority, is it mostly those professors who worry about clothing and first impressions?
This prompted Ashby Jones to reminisce:
We showed up at law school many years ago not really knowing what to expect. But our civil procedure professor — Richard Friedman at Michigan — showed up on the first day dressed in a suit. It made a helpful impression on us — an impression not so much about Friedman but law school generally. It made us sit up and say to ourselves, ‘oh, right. This ain’t undergrad. We’re being trained for a profession here.’ And that, in retrospect, wasn’t an entirely bad chord to strike early on, we thinks.
As a junior professor, I always wore a suit and tie at least on the first day of the year. I did so mainly to set myself apart from the students, who back then were much closer to me in age. As Capers notes, it helps set a tone of professionalism, respect, and authority. By virtue of his/her youth, lack of teaching experience, lack of scholarsly reputation, and so on, a junior lacks gravitas. A suit can help. So I think that it makes sense for juniors to worry about choosing the right outfit and to err on the side of formality.
Like it or not, I think it also makes sense for female professors to do so. I've read a zillion student evaluations over the years in connection with tenure and promotion decisions. Female professors tend to get many more student comments about clothing, haircuts, and so on than do male professors. It's sexist and unfair, but it's a fact of life. Conservative and professional but not frumpy seems the best bet.
Geography matters too. A first year professor at a top 50 East Coast school really ought to wear a suit and tie. Out here in California, that outfit would look odd and out of place. You're a geek trying too hard.
As for me? My position is rather different than Capers, of course. For one thing, I've been in this gig over 20 years. My rep--for better or worse -- precedes me. So I don't worry too much about first impressions. Having my name on the case book spine probably helps too. For another, I teach second and third years. They're much less easy to impress with fashion and other superficialities than are first years.
I ditched ties, suits, sports coats, and all that nonsense when I moved from Illinois to UCLA. After all, while I've never seen one of my colleagues teach in flip-flops, I have seen more than one teach in Teva sandals.
Last year, I had occasion to update my formal and semi-formal wardrobe. In order to get my money out of the new suits, I started wearing them again. But I quickly concluded that it's just not me. I'm a comfort guy. I was grunge before anybody had ever heard of Kurt Cobain. If I thought I could get away with it, I would teach in sweatpants and a vintage Redskins jersey. Indeed, as I told Jonathan Adler the last time this issue came up, I only wear "ties East of the Mississippi, and even then under some amount of duress."
So I retired my new suits to the back of the closet to await a professional trip back east, a funeral, certain weddings, and the like. My golf shirts and khakis came back to the front of the closet. In sum, back to business casual.
I would like to find an occasion to wear my tux again, however.
