Last week I stopped at Dom Mintoff’s house Tarxien where some of his belongings were on display prior to this week’s auction.
It was a rather motley crowd gathered there. Some had the faces of expert auction-goers, that serious look assiduously studying the artefacts. Others were there for the curiosity. Like the man who called his wife over: “Ejja Gracy, hawn arah iċ-ċintorin”.
Everyone knows Mintoff’s belt – more like a sumo sash made of thick leather really, than a belt – and his trademark enormous horse-shaped buckle. Even as I stared at it, in that showcase, I cringed at the thought that a Prime Minister of ours used to wear such an, erm, fancy attire on official visits.
What fascinates me though is that if you see photos and old footage of Mintoff in the 1950s and 1960s he was always wearing nice respectable suits, you know, with a buttoned-up shirt and tie, and a very normal-sized belt: what you would call a proper gentleman’s attire. In fact, he could very easily have been mistaken for an English gent.
Then his outfits changed. Was it a gradual thing or was it overnight? I am not sure. What is certain is that by the 1970s he had shed any form of formal attire and transformed into, um, what Tony Blair would have called a ‘people’s man’. The only thing is that, of course, none of ‘the people’ at the time really wore horse-buckled belts and open shirts down to belly button. Even the expression ‘dressing down’ had not yet been coined.
“That’s sartorial politics for you,” said a colleague when we were discussing the matter. And it’s fascinating how powerful it is. Mintoff wanted to shake off the British era and he did so not just by the way he talked on and off the negotiating table but also by his wardrobe, which essentially said: no respect for authority.
The sad reality is that he inspired his followers, and we are still stuck today with generations of people who have no sense of pleasant aesthetics.
Such is the power of attire that most of the time, audiences simply focus on appearance
Mintoff was not the first and last to use the sport of sartorial politics as a strategy. The more far-flung the country and the more dictatorial the leader, the more creative the dress code is. Take Vladimir Putin. And his taking off of shirts and such like.
In the western world, it’s mostly about ties. First we had politicians proudly sporting ties in their party colour, then the party colours started gradually being sidelined because they began to look slightly gauche.
Sometimes the jacket is also used to make a statement, exemplified by Barack Obama, who at times goes for a jacket slung over one shoulder and pushed-up shirtsleeves.
British Prime Minister David Cameron is thought to believe that clothes can help alter the public’s opinion of his character. So, because he wants his voters to forget he’s posh, he wears short-sleeved shirts, avoids tailcoats, and insists his wife wears Zara shoes.
Such is the power of attire that most of the time, audiences simply focus on appearance. The minute there’s something odd about the way you look, you can be giving the best speech of you life, but no one will lend an ear.
Once, a British Conservative MP, Nadhim Zahawi, made a passionate speech in Parliament while wearing a musical tie – one which played some squeaky tune when a button was pressed – he made column inches next day, but not a word of it was about his speech.
Sartorial messages are around us all the time: even if you take the evening news. One TV newscasters look like they’re about to go out on Saturday evening wedding party: the underlying message is – we’re sultry and we’re sexy and because you’re watching us, so are you.
On the other hand, NET TV newscasters look like they’ve just seen a ghost; no, scratch that, with their pale face and paler lips, they look like ghosts themselves: the underlying message being – sigh, we’re struggling but we’re here.
Out on the street it’s wardrobe politics too. There’s three factions really: the old-fashioned, posh manners and style, which is all about understatement – playing down how rich one is. So no bling bling and no labels on show.
Then there’s the exact opposite: the nouveau riche thing of showing off how much money you’ve got and how much you’ve spent on your clothes. And then there’s the somewhere in between.
Bottom line is that we all indulge in a bit of sartorial politics every now and then.
I’ve been known to go on a date wearing wellies and dungarees. You see, that’s a kind of test. If the guy still wants to kiss you when you look like Pa Ingalls from The Little House on the Prairie, then, it might, just might, be the real thing.
Never underestimate sartorial powers.
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Twitter: @KrisChetcuti