Declarative Garments

"Well, it's all over" I said to myself, as I glanced down at a Christmas jumper lying sodden in the gutter, the brown dye of the leaping reindeer bleeding into the snowy background. Compared with many others I'd seen, the design was restrained - tasteful even - reminding me of the heavy-knit woollies fashionable years ago which originated in Norway, or Canada, or some other Arctic country: garments for life, not just for Christmas.

But why had it been abandoned in the street? Should it not have been put away for use next year, like baubles and tinsel stashed in a box? I imagined a trauma: the wearer, out for a night of partying with friends, had misjudged the dress code and, embarrassed, had discreetly discarded it in the alley. "What a shame", I thought. "He only wanted to declare that he was up for light-hearted fun but, feeling under pressure from others, felt obliged to tone down his message."

Those who are not familiar with Christmas jumpers (e.g. Australians) may be interested to learn how this recent phenomenon came about. Men and boys in the UK will recall that they commonly found presents of gloves, socks, scarves and jumpers under the tree. The most potentially embarrassing of these was the jumper which, when worn in public for the first time, would be inevitably identified as a Christmas present. Subsequently, and with a playful sense of irony (not to mention a shrewd understanding of the market), jumper manufacturers evolved unambiguous seasonal designs and, in doing so, rendered decision-making much easier for buyers of gifts. No more fretting over colours and patterns: just choose the most ridiculous design at the best price. (One chap I met at a party was wearing one with 'Merry Xmas' woven into it. By way of a conversation opener, I admired it. "Ah", he said "watch this". He fumbled in his pocket for the switch and turned on the 50 miniature LEDs sewn into the front which were programmed to flash in several coloured patterns. "Only nine quid!" he claimed. His wife, adding insult to injury, had left the price ticket on it).

All but one of the designs I've spotted were dedicated to the pagan aspects of Christmas, featuring Santa, reindeer, elves, holly, mistletoe, plum puddings and snowmen. The one exception showed a scene of the three wise men approaching the stables. It was languishing on a shop rail, un-bought, perhaps because the image of camels, palm trees and desert seemed inappropriately unseasonal: or perhaps because the message it relayed was too serious or controversial. Not all designs are commercially successful. But jumper manufacturers should take heart: there is the return-to-work-after-the-festive-holiday jumper market yet to be exploited: the potential there for sad emoticons and anti-boss slogans is enormous. And then there's the Easter jumper market, with all those cute bunnies and bright daffodils. 

Of course you don't have to have images or words emblazoned on your clothes to get a message across: society is supremely capable of reading what's behind your mode of dress. And the more consciously you choose your style the clearer is the message of who you are, where you come from and what you aspire to. It's been a long time since I gave up wearing of T shirts with slogans in favour of less declarative (and more flattering), tailored garments which, I have no doubt, speak just as plainly. Today, however, I am ready to revert. In case there should be any ambiguity, the message I would like to convey is Je suis Charlie - in big, bold letters across my chest.