To Prepare for Anything from Job Interviews to Club Hopping…
Dress Like a Jedi
Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking…
NERD!
But wait, it gets better.
If you overthink it (not guilty, cough cough)…
Jedi have the right idea about clothes.
Think about the job description.
Guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy.
It’s intentionally vague the same way that Disney’s mission statement is intentionally vague: it has to be true without being restrictive. It could lead anywhere. At least, anywhere that the opposition of peace and justice goes. I don’t know about you, but I’ve noticed that them who oppose peace and justice like to make a mess while doing it.
During the day, Jedi are expected to save the galaxy from “spectrum of villains.” The spectrum includes, but is not limited to, robots, robot armies, evil dictators, evil dicks, regular dicks, monsters — gooey or spiny — , explosions, explosion-wielding monster armies, and, in general, stuff that makes a mess when agitated.
Then in the evenings they’re expected to attend “functions.” (Read “parties.”) Functions of state, which include cocktails. Functions of society, which include cocktails. Functions of business, which include cocktails. It’s a wonder they stay sober.
After the “functions,” (read “parties,”) and sometimes during them, Jedi have got to go back to the monster fighting. As that one guy observed, being a villain’s the better path if you’re interested in setting your own schedule. Villains set the schedules. Heroes have to respond to villains, not the other way around. It can get quite tiresome, I have no doubt. Villains submit their taxes with 1099-MISCs, is what I’m saying. Self-employed. They can afford a bit of flair in their outfits because, when they go out, they know their itinerary ahead of time. As heroes, Jedi don’t have that luxury. They never know when there will be trouble. They couldn’t afford it if their good party frock didn’t have enough give about the crotch seams when the rearing of evil heads occurs, is what I’m saying.
We’re talking a busy job that never sleeps, and more than half of it includes “hobnobbing.” I don’t know if you’ve ever hobnobbed, but let me tell you that the dress code can, sometimes, be stringent. Those who show to the party with too much shabbiness about the cuffs may find themselves wondering how they arrived out on their ear in the street. That’s what I’m driving at about this hobbing — to say nothing of the nobbing. I wouldn’t go so far as to grow comfortable with the words “black tie affair,” but if you suppose that the stiff-necked man at the door might sniff disapprovingly and in a way that suggests the term you might not be far off.
Now suppose you’ve just come in from a battle with the beasts from the dark depths of the stars. You may have managed to escape the battle with life, and perhaps more or less limb, undamaged. You may, if you are a Jedi of any use, have managed that. But you can hardly have expected to have escaped with your dinner jacket entirely without mark or blemish. Unfortunately, you will rarely have time before they pop the champagne for a wash- and brush-up. And it will never do to arrive looking like something that came out of the wrong end of a dragon (if, indeed, there is a right end of a dragon to come out of). That would never do. You would be a disgrace to the name of Jedi.
What, then, could possibly save you?
Only appropriate preparation.
Sturdy and well-fitted clothes that imply a heritage but adhere to no niche in society
When I say that I dress like a Jedi, I mean more that I hold to the spirit of their dressing requirements than that I dress to look like a Jedi. I aim for a middle ground kind of wardrobe, somewhere in the realm of “formal barista (on orienteering-in-hell day)” or “millennial chic metal-head” or “industrial-ninja-spy work-casual.”
I admit that’s hard to visualize. I get that a lot. Even when people are looking at me in my “nü-goth/steampunk workday” outfits the compliment I get — if I get any — is most often “I like your…” and a vague gesture at all of me.
The point isn’t to look like a Jedi. The point is to embrace the “Jedi dress code.” The point is to embrace a “ready for anything, from assassins to philanthropists” philosophy. The “Jedi dress code” looks different on different people because different people have different taste, but you can apply this philosophy everywhere, this “could I fight a bear in this? And, when I’m done, will I embarrass my date or not?” because of its main tenet.
Its main tenet is “dress for everything.”
Obviously, a Jedi’s life’s on the extreme end of “busy.” They’ve barely got time to shower, let alone change clothes. Most people haven’t got lives quite as full as Jedi’s lives.
That said, most of us do have busy lives. We could all quite conceivably have days where we had to go work in an office in the morning and a copy shop in the afternoon. Then after that attend a tea party, work out, get drinks, and then go to a dance club after. That’s a Wednesday. It’s a lot to squash into a day, but it isn’t an impossible sort of day at all at all.
Sometimes we have time to change clothes between adventures.
But sometimes we haven’t got time for life’s makeup and wardrobe breaks.
Some days we find ourselves swept along by the excitement of life straight from work to the top of a mountain then to the opera with hardly a breath to spare.
On days like that, we face a choice.
On the one side, we can grin and bear the possibilities, and go on adventures in our chinos, loafers, and oxford shirt — or, even, our pencil skirt, heels, and blouse. If we do, we risk such impropriety as ruining our work pants — or, even, work skirt — getting blisters from wearing uncomfortable shoes, or — horror of horrors — attracting snub-nosed looks from the nibs who think our (now ripped) chinos bring down the reputation of the place considerably.
Or, on the other hand, we can prepare our wardrobe like a Jedi does.
It sounds like a complex wardrobe overhaul
It is an overhaul, but it need not be complex.
Picking an outfit appropriate for that whole itinerary would be difficult enough by itself. The thing you’d want to wear to a ska-punk show might attract odd looks at an opening to an international art exhibit.
It is possible to choose an outfit that works, and it’s simpler than scouring the thrift stores for industrial-grade wingtips and fire-resistant velvet smoking jackets — but if you find those things, keep hold of them. You’ll find industrial-grade wingtips and a fire-resistant velvet smoking jacket a boon to your survival when the alien invasion happens.
No, there are not a thousand specific rules about choosing clothes, if you’re going to follow the Jedi dress code. No dictums to break or standards to follow.
There are only two rules.
- Will I be able to fight off the alien zombie Nazis in this?
- After dispatching them, will I still feel confident about the photo-shoot I was on my way to?
If you answer “yes” and “yes,” then you’re, as my father would say, golden.
How, you might ask, do I begin?
As I always say, a good pair of boots will take you far.
If you’re fond of walking.
Seriously, though…
Start with decent shoes. Comfy, sturdy, acceptable at the theatre, but not the sort of shoe that you’ll be annoyed if someone spills beer on them at the underground punk concert. Build from there.
