Clarissa's Blog

Nobody does the convoluted routine of a complex dress code anymore. Nobody sits down to a multi-course dinner service. But the idea behind these practices never went away. It changed, but it’s still very much there.

What is the idea? Why is all of this necessary? The complicated meal structures of 19th-century aristocracy existed to demonstrate self-control. They enacted the belief that civilization was more important than animal instincts. We don’t throw ourselves on the chow like savages. We place our desire to eat inside the strictures of something that goes way beyond physical need.

Today, this exists, for example, in the form of the complicated morning and evening routines of successful people. It’s the same desire for form, structure, and deferred gratification. More often than not, the rituals are performed alone. They’re not for show.

Again, the difference is easiest to observe on different ends of the spectrum. Some people have to be begged to make their beds, and they sincerely struggle to understand why it’s necessary.

We behave as members of our social class without realizing it. It is deeply ingrained even in the smallest daily habits.

One example of class distinction in Western societies is whether you see radical differences between “at home” and “outside of the home.”

Do you shave in the morning as a matter of course or only before going out? Are nice clothes for going out or for wearing both at home and outside of it? Do you have nice plates that are kept aside for when guests come by? Do you have a different standard of hygiene, behavior, politeness, or word usage for when you feel at home and when you don’t? Do you have a different voice for “at home” and “with strangers”?

There’s a story “The Outstation” by Somerset Maugham where this class difference is illustrated. Cooper, an administrator in the colonies, joins Warburton, his supervisor in Borneo who is of a higher social class. This conversation between them is a perfect example of what I’m talking about:

“Halloa, you’re all dressed up,” said Cooper. “I didn’t know you were going to do that. I very nearly put on a sarong.”

“It doesn’t matter at all. I daresay your boys were busy.”

“You needn’t have bothered to dress on my account, you know.”

“I didn’t. I always dress for dinner.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone,” replied Mr. Warburton, with a frigid stare.

He saw a twinkle of amusement in Cooper’s eyes, and he flushed an angry red.

“When I lived in London I moved in circles in which it would have been just as eccentric not to dress for dinner every night as not to have a bath every morning. When I came to Borneo I saw no reason to discontinue so good a habit. For three years during the war I never saw a white man. I never omitted to dress on a single occasion on which I was well enough to come in to dinner. You have not been very long in this country; believe me, there is no better way to maintain the proper pride which you should have in yourself. When a white man surrenders in the slightest degree to the influences that surround him he very soon loses his self-respect, and when he loses his self-respect you may be quite sure that the natives will soon cease to respect him.”

You can read the story here.

At the highest and the lowest reaches of social class, there’s no distinction between private and public behavior. The difference is that a high social class means you maintain public behavior in private. And lumpen classes maintain private behavior in public. The best example is the homeless defecating in public.