Dressing for Dinner

I get the feeling that one of the reasons we don't see as much black tie any longer in the United States is that many men will only wear it when they are certain others will be doing the same. The odd charity ball. The opening of the opera or the ballet. Perhaps New Year's Eve at the club. Few men wear it to dinner any longer, though that was its original purpose.

The custom of changing clothes for dinner began in the eighteenth century, when the sort of men that could afford special clothes for evening spent a great deal of the day on horseback. They needed to change to get rid of the smell, a rationale that has fortunately disappeared.

People stopped changing for dinner when they began spending their days at offices away from home. Theatres began accommodating mid-week customers in lounge suits instead of tails out of necessity. It simply wasn't practical to go home after work, change into evening clothes, grab a bite and still get to a theatre in time for the curtain during the week. Things have gone downhill from there.

Most of this problem is overcome by the simple expedient of carrying evening clothes to the office in a garment bag. My wife actually has it simpler than I because she tends to wear black clothes every day. To dress for dinner she only needs to change her shoes and her jewelry. But changing male clothes is hardly more onerous, requiring about fifteen minutes.

I like two types of dinner jackets: the more formal black single breasted peak lapel coat and vest in 10 oz. mohair and wool and the somewhat less formal double breasted jacket in midnight blue 13 oz. wool with black grosgrain trimmings. Both are complemented by either black patent oxfords with silk laces or black calf pumps with a silk bow. I wear pique front shirts with the peak lapels, pleated fronts with the DB and my ties are straight ended or butterflied in a variety of widths.

When overcome with the urge to add color to evening clothes, I allow that there are four accepted ways to do so. A red carnation is fine, as is a colored pocket square, and hose in a complementary color or with clocks or some other decoration in a color. A colored waistcoat probably defines the outer boundary of propriety. In my opinion, and I am joined in this by a large crowd of others, no-one should ever wear a colored bow, especially a white one.

Once dressed, we might still be faced with the trauma of venturing out without the company of peers (unless one happens to be in London's Mayfair or St. James's, where men in evening clothes remain a familiar sight). Ease the way by making a black tie date with a friend. My experience is that everyone has a grand time. Few others pay attention, and the ones that do are overwhelmingly in favor.