What do my clothes say about me?
“In my family we swap clothes all the time. I wear whatever I bump into. Clothes wear me, in a way.”
And what they really say
Robert is 6ft 7in tall. A giant, without his heels. Very tall men are often intimidating; they use their height to enforce their status, to tell us how tough they are. Not Robert.
There is no obvious fight in him. Instead he plays with femininity, with fun, with ideas of home and away. He’s wearing a floral pinny, like an English country mum. He has some spring-like sprigs in his hair. These are domestic, rural, female references. But his top ventures further afield: there’s a palm tree, a turquoise sea, a sunny sky. Robert’s chest has gone on holiday abroad. And what of his shawl and trousers? Both a beautiful bright coral, they remind me of churidars under a tunic, a scarf for all occasions, of India, of South Asia, even further away than the seaside above his waist. Robert is out there, in many senses.
Then there are his feet. Glitter fluff socks, suede court shoes (urban, British), slightly wobbly stance. Robert’s feet are awkward, turned in, as easily embarrassed as a child. It’s as though he’s playing a part with his feet. As though the way he holds them was suggested by the shoes.
Robert’s clothes look cheap. They’re found or swapped rather than bought, which means their value is not in how much they cost but in how they are used. He uses them beautifully, with a quiet delight. He is one of the most unusually dressed people we’ve had in this column, but he isn’t wearing his clothes with show-off pride or check-me-out attitude. He’s just wearing them, like the rest of us do jeans and a sweatshirt. There is so much that’s unusual about Robert’s outfit, but the most remarkable thing about it is how he makes it all look so casual.
If you would like Miranda to cast an eye over your favourite possession, email a photograph to magazine@observer.co.uk
