Over the years I have developed a whole set of ‘likes’ and ‘dislikes’ and often these influence what I do or how I behave. This blog is about an occasion when, based on some strongly-held dislikes, I almost missed a wonderful lecture. I was invited to an event at which my host – London’s Royal College of Physicians – asked that those who planned to attend should adhere to the College dress code that required male participants to come wearing ‘black tie’. Accordingly, men (for women there are no rules!) should wear a black dinner jacket with satin lapels, matching black trousers, black socks, shoes, and a white shirt with optional cummerbund. In addition, ‘decorations’ should be displayed! 

It is important to recognise that this costume is a direct descendent of the formal attire of Edwardian aristocracy, not to say royalty. I was therefore being asked to dress in a costume that, by its very nature was a symbol of social class and by its conformity on the day was a strong statement of a brotherhood – and an infantilised one at that! And there was more; by its very nature  the evening was full of pomp and ceremony which I see as pretentious, contrived and unpleasant!

With such links the black tie costumery was an attire with which I would certainly not wish to be identified, and so wearing it was unthinkable. Importantly, in respect of its archaic silliness, I have often seen wearers as ‘penguins’ (see illustration). 

But, setting aside the style of dress and its associations, that someone should tell me what I should wear I find demeaning; I see my clothing as my own affair.

There were over two hundred people in the audience that evening and all had come to hear the William Harvey oration, the oldest and grandest event in the College’s calendar. This year, the speaker was to be Sir Patrick Vallance. Months ago Patrick, a one-time student of mine and friend for over forty years, told me of his forthcoming talk and hoped I could come. In due course I received an invitation but my desire to accept was dampened when I discovered the dress code for those attending the lecture and the dinner. Such conditions made my acceptance impossible. 

Letters, phone calls and much negotiation soon followed, and knowing that I did not wish to stay for the dinner afterwards, a compromise was struck. I was told that if I dressed smartly I could wear what I liked. With the penguin threat lifted, I went wearing an open-neck grey shirt, dark blue trousers and jumper, brown leather shoes, pale orange socks and an apricot-coloured ‘vareuse’ – a French fishing jacket. I imagine that having someone in the audience dressed as he wished will have been seen as strange to the ‘brotherhood’, but for me it felt reasonable and right. Moreover, one person there, who was actually wearing a lounge suit came and told me how he would copy my example next time.

I sometimes understand how my likes and dislikes arose, and in this instance there are clues. I dislike dressing up intensely, more now than ever. As a child we had a dressing-up box but this interested my sisters more than me. I did not see wearing my uniform for school as odd and only now do I view my years wearing the obligatory jacket and tie at work – a custom now dropped – as some sort of posturing.

I have assumed that my antipathy to dressing up was in response to my mother for whom dressing up was de rigueur. She was, after all, an actress so I never quite knew who was the real mother; a state of affairs I decided never to emulate – I wanted be myself and be seen as myself.

Then there is the issue of my not wanting to be told what to wear which is almost certainly a revolt against the controlling side of first my mother and later, my father. Up until my early teens my clothes were bought and each day chosen by my mother. Then later, when I did choose clothes for myself, my father was always critical. In fact, in the last conversation we had before he died he criticised my dishevelled appearance saying how I would never be promoted if I continued  dressing as I did. 

Now to the evening itself; Patrick’s lecture was very special and a delight to hear. He really is most gifted. But during the talk I suddenly had feelings of remorse as I realised that my penguin surrounds were in part my fault. I am a member and fellow of the College so years ago I could have forced, or at least lobbied for change in a dress code that was no longer fit for purpose! Perhaps it is not too late to start to lobby now!

The illustration shows a photo of six, black-tie lookalikes – King Penguins from the Antarctic!

For helping me write this blog, I would like to thank Patrick, Sarah, Peter, Rohan and Vivien.