I have certainly heard it said that Kennedy’s conspicuous refusal to wear a hat put the nails in the coffin of a declining hat industry. The reason that it went into decline may be that movie directors took to filming actors with their hats off so that the audiences could see their expensive faces. As far as I can make out from old family snapshots my father was already going hatless in 1950.
They are coming back in a limited way here in Australia, probably because people are becoming more aware of the danger of skin cancer induced by bright sunlight. And many young people are wearing caps, which nobody did when I was at school.
I would wear a hat more often if it were easier to get anything larger than a size 60.
Watching reruns of ‘Burns and Allen’ show a few years back, I was confused by the plot in one episode when 2 men appear (in sequence, a few minutes apart) at the door dressed very neatly in suits, ties, vests, and hats, and there was great laughter from the audience when Gracie invited the first one to dinner. See, he was a unemployed bum, and the second one was George’s co-worker (or boss or client or something).
Of course, it was easy to tell since the first one’s fedora was slightly outdated and his tie a bit askew…
<cartman>oooooohhhh!</cartman>
On re-reading H. G. Wells’ novel The War of the Worlds (1897), I was amused by several references to clothing. In one case, a stranger who has just survived a Martian attack appears as the narrator’s door. How do we first know something is wrong? “He was hatless, and his coat was unbuttoned.”
One of the first witnesses of the Martians in their landing pit commits this fashion faux pas as he runs to tell others: “He met a waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale he told and his appearance were so wild – his hat had fallen off in the pit – that the man simply drove on.”
After our narrator survives the Martian heat ray and meets another survivor, a Victorian idea of nakedness is given: "I dare say he found me a strange enough figure, naked, save for my water-soaked trousers and socks. . . "
Apparently in the 1950’s it was a big deal when one of the major airlines touted male-only flights for business men, the attraction being that without ladies being present, men could remove their jackets!
As has been noted, people dressed much more formally in the 1930’s-50’s than today. In addition, clothes were of much higher quality then that today-men’s suits were largely tailor-made (even for the lower classes). Also, materials were mostly natural fibers (wool, cotton, and silk) so good clothes lasted longer than the synthetic fabrics of today. I remember seeing pictures of people going to ball games in the 1950’s-and they were wearing suits and ties! today, the baseball crowd are dressed like homeless people-witness the idiotic antics of young males (the painted chests, drunken revelry,etc.).
We are regressing!
I like hats, and will wear my fedora on those rare occasions when a Southern California evening is cold enough to warrant it. But I’ve run into a couple of problems with it: (1) even if I think it’s cold when I go out, I soon warm up from activity, such as walking, and then want to take it off. Then there’s no easy way to carry such a hat so I have to hold it in my hand. (2) Similarly, the hat checkroom is largely a thing of the past, so when you arrive anywhere you might be stuck holding it.
I have a theory that for many people in those times, particularly in the working classes and the lower middle classes, that the clothes look a lot better in photographs than they actually are. I imagine that laundering closthes was a costly and time consuming process and that shirts (which were worn as nightshirts as well) were often unlaundered and only a fresh collar attached. There are also those false shirt fronts that would be used over an undershirt to give the impression that one was wearing a full suit of clothes.
Sometime yes, sometimes no just like now. I well remember an unintentionally comic scene in the movieAce of Aces (1933) in which Richard Dix played the part of a sculptor who became one of the AEF’s greatest air aces in WWI. In the scene Dix is working on a sculpture model of clay, which is a pretty messy job, wearing a spotless black jacket (buttoned up with a white muffler carefully tucked in around his neck) and impeccable white trousers. He didn’t even have any of the modeling clay on his hands.