Skip to main content

Ads that I like #33

I have something to declare up front. I have never worn, and intend to never wear, a necktie. I did wear a bow tie for my Grade 10 school ball sixteen years ago, but it did have a clip, which I think renders it null and void.

The history of the necktie can be traced back to the Thirty Year War when Croatian mercenaries in the employ of the French, roused the interest of Parisian high society with their traditional small, knotted neckerchiefs (which were more like cravats, to be honest). From here various kinds of dandies and posers have utilised neck ornamentation of various forms for various purposes, not one of which has any actual utility value.

This is the first of two key reasons that I am so opposed to neckties. As a child of modernity, I have embraced the notion of "form following function" in the case of clothing. The necktie, to my mind, stands in the company of high heel shoes and facial piercing. It serves no practical purpose and merely hinders individual performance.

The second reason stems from a rigid working class background and a natural (and very Australian) distaste for explicit demarcations of class and standing in society. In Burnie in the 1980s ties meant one of four things:

  1. Private school (Arrogant, unpleasant toffs);
  2. Business man (Bourgeois capitalist exploiter);
  3. Politician (Politician);
  4. Funeral director (Creepy).

It is impossible to separate the idea of a tie from a complex and rigid set notions around issues of conformity, expectation, and expression. This is perhaps the only area where I am in agreement with the Ayatollah Khomeini, who denounced the necktie as a decadent symbol of Western oppression. That is why you will never see the usually hunky and suave Mahmoud Ahmadinejad wearing one (not because he thinks that it looks "a bit gay", as has long been rumoured).

Anyhow, today's advertisement features the not-so-humble necktie. I'm not sure if this can't be added to the body of evidence against the tie. Is the fellow in this ad from 1938 so obviously courting two women at once? A bigamist perhaps? Either way, it doesn't look good!


Comments

Gerald (SK14) said…
o dear me, I shall have to think about this - I rather like wearing ties - at least in colder weather - in summer (such as we sometimes get) an open-necked shirt is fine but at other times I want to keep that top button shut for fear of getting a chill on my neck and a nice tie just sort of helps keep things in place - didn't realise I was sending the wrong signals out about myself.
MumbaiiteAnu said…
Great info about the tie.
My husband never liked wearing ties. He had to, when he worked as a sales manager. Now he doesn't wear ties, even for business meetings. I'll get him to read this.
Thanks for visiting Mumbai Daily Snapshot I've answered your doubt about what Mumbaiites wear nowadays.
Kris McCracken said…
Of course, my little piece is deadly serious, and not at all tongue in cheek!

Although it is true, I've never worn a tie and would rather avoid it if at all possible. I may have felt differently if I wasn't brainwashed at such an early age. ;)

Popular posts from this blog

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

Mad as hell

So there I was, arm hooked up to the machine, watching my plasma swirl away into a bag while the morning news dribbled across the screen like a bad fever dream. And what were they showing? A "riot" in Melbourne, allegedly. The sort of riot where the real thugs wear body armour, carry pepper spray and look like they just walked off the set of RoboCop. The people they were beating? A ragtag crew of teenagers and old hippies—probably fresh out of a drum circle, still smelling of patchouli. But sure, let's call it a riot. Now, here's where it really gets good. I mentioned this spectacle to a few people later, thinking maybe they'd share my outrage or, at the very least, give a damn. But no. What did I get instead? A smirk, a chuckle, and—oh, the pièce de résistance—"You should really just let it go." Let it go? Yeah, let me uncork a nice, overpriced cup of coffee, sit back with my legs crossed, and soak in the latest reality TV trash. Why bother caring when ...