Unless some zoologist can dig up a weird exception, humans beings are the only living creatures who wear clothes. We are also the only beings who laugh, for humor is the exclusive property of humanity and consists, in its most essential form, of the ability not to take oneself too seriously. One of the reasons people laugh is because we know, deep down, that because we wear clothing we are all something in disguise.

Trussing, tight and constricting, conventional male attire offers special cause for reflection. Collars, ties, belts, pants, shoes and tightly fitted jackets squeeze us in with the information (as if we didn't know it anyhow) that we are indeed really and truly there. Some people get this feeling of "being there" by lying on a bed of nails. Others get it by walking to the Basilica of Guadalupe on their knees, by enduring Swedish massage or by the curious sexual kick known as bondage that Woody Allen described as "being tied up in awkward positions and tickled with feathers".

While I do not contest anyone's freedom to use such devices to enhance their sense of reality or existential well-being, I do resent their authority over the rest of us - a kind of force that compels us to go to better restaurants, attend formal parties and conduct business outside our homes in grotesque garments which deprive us of ease and freedom and display little or no aesthetic imagination.

Consider men's trousers, garments totally unsuited to male anatomy. Men are constantly aware of their trousers. They catch and bag at the knees, make scratching an itch nearly impossible, rub uncomfortably as we walk and restrict our movements. Trousers even mold our world view, for as poet Alan Ginsburg reflected, "garments that squeeze the testicles make men think differently".

Nor are shirts really much more practical. They have the insufferable tendency to creep up from beneath the belt and spill over the edge of the trousers. Another drawback to shirts is that, as everyone knows, it is all but impossible for anyone except a highly trained laundress to fold a shirt neatly. Further, no man should look ridiculous in any part of his clothing, and a man "caught with his pants down" in nothing but a shirt is a sight especially unpleasing to the eye ... especially if he happens to be wearing black socks with garters.

Jackets are not so much uncomfortable as they are amusing. There is no conceivable use, for example for either lapels or the buttons that decorate the sleeves of virtually all men's jackets. Lapels were originally invented so that men could hang their military medals or royal insignias on them. Buttons on sleeves are hangovers from days when they were installed on fancy uniforms to discourage the use of sleeves for wiping the nose.

As to hats, with few exceptions, these are absurd and pretentious superstructures without practical value or aesthetic charm. There are only two basically sensible types of hats. In the first group are those hats made of fur for protection against the cold as found in Canada, Alaska and Russia. The others, similar to those worn by the coolies in China or peons in Mexico are for protection against sun and rain.

The hats we actually wear are little more than bad jokes. Toppers, Derbies, Homburgs or the stiff visored caps affected by the military and the police afflict welts on the brow, promote baldness and express a generally pompous attitude towards life. Grown men in baseball caps look ridiculous, and those who wear the soft felt hats modeled after those of Greek fishermen will never convince me that they are not trying to hide a bald spot of which, for some unknown reason, they are ashamed.

Most leather shoes, especially those of the hard, shiny and unflexible types are little more than extra weight to carry when walking. They deny freedom of movement to the complex bone structure of the foot and, because they place our feet in airless enclosures, promote perspiration, stink, and athlete's foot.

One of the blessings of life is that we have largely done away with the daily necessity for men to deck themselves out in that ultimate symbol of servitude, the necktie. Even when colorful, these sacred cows in certain social circles are little more than nooses facilitating instant strangulation.

Semiologist Umberto Eco points out that male dress influences behavior and sometimes, even morality. Eco suggests that Victorian men behaved in a stiff and formal manner because of the stiff collars they wore and that 19th century gentlemen were constrained in their behavior because the tight double-breasted coats, high boots and top hats of the day all discouraged spontaneous or brusque movements. "If Vienna had been on the equator", Eco wonders, "and its bourgeoisie had gone around in Bermuda shorts, would Freud have described the same neurotic symptoms ... and would he have described them in the same way if he had been a Scot, in a kilt?"

It seems beyond questions that wearing clothing is a kind of gesture which implies the unadmitted knowledge that our personalities, like our garments, are "put on". Think of phrases as "cover yourself", "pull yourself together", "tighten your belts", "keep your hat on", "don't lose your shirt", "shiftless", "redressment of injustice", "defrocked", "uncloaked", "dismantled", "wearing an expression", "vested interest", "stuffed shirt", and "clothed and in one's right mind". Such a list of sartorial symbols and millinery metaphors for mental and moral states, of depletions and completions of personality might be expanded indefinitely. They express a basic and intuitive recognition of the connection between who we are as persons and what we wear.

It is interesting to note that men who are supposed to play holy or especially wise roles in life wear loose-fitting robes: monks, priests, rabbis, professors in formal dress, judges, swamis and surgeons. On the other hand, the most aggressive members of our society are invariably trussed in armor: boots, puttees, Sam Brown belts, tight leather jackets, helmets and other crustacean contraptions for letting themselves and the world know not only that they exist but to define their roles. While most of us do not wear military uniforms, we have been so accustomed to buckling ourselves into our own socially acceptable mode of dress that we actually feel vaguely guilty when we are not dressed "properly".

None of this should be taken as a call for general male nudity. It should, however, be read as a suggestion that clothes, like our roles and personalities, should be worn easily and lightly. We may have no choice but to masquerade to some extent, but we may as well do it with the utmost comfort, flair and elegance. Men the world over need to relax, to become gentle-men, to take themselves lightly. Easy, gracious, comfortable and colorful clothing might be a beginning.

© Daniel Rogov