I like Victoria Coren. Really. She's smart, witty, beautiful, and married to one of the funniest men in England. What's not to like? All the same, I think she missed the mark in her latest column in the Observer, on the issue of fashion - and in particular, for the clergy. Coren points out that she isn't just writing about women - it's equally about men. The Observer let her down on that point a bit, publishing pictures of The Rev'd Sally Hitchener, but not the corresponding picture of a man with a geometric haircut that Coren mentions in her piece. Coren pokes fun at Ms Hitchener for being fashionable, and then, oddly, criticises her for being merely "relevant to the '70s" - all of which doubleminded nonsense might have made for amusing copy if it wasn't focused on a real-life woman. I don't much like to see people mocking others in print for a cheap laugh. I think Victoria Coren is better than that, really.
There's been quite a bit in the press lately about what the clergy should or shouldn't wear. But I'm afraid I still think Coren's argument falls apart - partly because she suggests that the only alternative to high fashion is the dowdy end of comfortable, and partly because she seems to have a very narrow understanding of what priests/vicars/curates actually do. Her point, in the end, is an argument that people don't want to go and visit a fashionista to discuss their weddings (for fear that they will be intimidated) and she suggests that "a dated skirt...the wrong colour scheme and a jumper on top..." might not make you look cool, but it might make you look lovable. But what she doesn't seem to notice is that to decide what is professionally appropriate for the clergy (and that is really the point of having any kind of "uniform" or dress code) requires an awareness that their work has a far wider remit than advising on weddings for the middle classes. Some clergy are found at work in the city, some in schools and colleges, and some on battlefields, while others spend large amounts of time in soup kitchens and homeless shelters, or visiting homes that due to dire poverty require old, tough and warm clothing, not a smart suit that makes you nervous of anything other than a clean environment. There is not one single appropriate dress code for Vicars, precisely because we are expected to show up everywhere from shaking hands with royalty to sitting on park benches or in freezing doorways with those who have nothing.
Most Vicars don't dress as fashionistas, and the few that do seem to do so to be in keeping with their own particular congregation or parish. Bear in mind, for instance, that Ms Hitchener is chaplain to a University that includes the London School of Fashion, and there are others who are chaplains to nightclubs, and so on. They might not look like your idea of a rural vicar... but they are not rural vicars. They are Chaplains to particular communities, and are involved with the concerns of those communities. Army chaplains wear fatigues; what should the Chaplain to the School of Fashion wear?
Of course, it's not a requirement to dress just like your flock; in fact, dressing to be like yourself is really the key. People can usually see straight through fakery, especially those who adopt a middle-aged "yoof" image to get down with the kids. I know a Vicar who ministers to a middle aged, middle class congregation but mostly wears leathers and rides a Harley Davidson, and another who hangs out mostly with trendy young people but wears a battered old cardigan. Both are a success because they are dressing as themselves, not putting on a show for others. What people see in the end is not what you wear but whether you are an authentic person who is genuinely interested in them, not a self-obsessed person.
Of course, it's not a requirement to dress just like your flock; in fact, dressing to be like yourself is really the key. People can usually see straight through fakery, especially those who adopt a middle-aged "yoof" image to get down with the kids. I know a Vicar who ministers to a middle aged, middle class congregation but mostly wears leathers and rides a Harley Davidson, and another who hangs out mostly with trendy young people but wears a battered old cardigan. Both are a success because they are dressing as themselves, not putting on a show for others. What people see in the end is not what you wear but whether you are an authentic person who is genuinely interested in them, not a self-obsessed person.
Dressing for work, my rule of thumb is that to do ministry well you need to be able to forget about yourself. That doesn't mean not caring about yourself. But it does mean being comfortable enough in your own skin and your own clothes that once you are set up for the day you don't constantly think about yourself. If you have clothes that aren't appropriate, or don't help you fit in to where you are, you think about yourself. If you are dressed in a smart suit to go and spend time under freezing cold bridges with the homeless, you think about yourself. If you have clothes that make you stick out like a sore thumb in every room you are in, you think about yourself. But if you figure out what makes you look appropriate to your office, while being reasonably on a par with the crowd you are in, you are free to think about them, and not about yourself.
If I was looking for a Vicar, then unlike Ms Coren I wouldn't really care if she was wearing a mini skirt, biker clothes or a comfy cardi. I don't need a Vicar to be "reassuringly comfy". I want to know whether she can do the job, and whether she can think about me in my moment of need. I would be concerned if her clothes and her manner suggested either a total lack of self-care, or a total obsession with herself, or an inability to fit into her setting, whatever that happened to be.
If I was looking for a Vicar, then unlike Ms Coren I wouldn't really care if she was wearing a mini skirt, biker clothes or a comfy cardi. I don't need a Vicar to be "reassuringly comfy". I want to know whether she can do the job, and whether she can think about me in my moment of need. I would be concerned if her clothes and her manner suggested either a total lack of self-care, or a total obsession with herself, or an inability to fit into her setting, whatever that happened to be.
So when I go to work I choose my wardrobe by figuring out what's right for the place I'm going to be. Some days that means jeans and a leather jacket, some days it means a business suit. Occasionally it means full clergy or academic robes. I make sure my clothes are clean, mended, and fit me well. Then I put them on, and forget about myself and get on with the job. That, I think, is what real style is about.