The sad demise of the smartly dressed traveller
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It’s hard to picture David Niven in an animal onesie. Then again, it’s not easy to imagine him displaying ‘sideboob’ either – his was a generation for whom the phrase ‘wardrobe malfunction’ meant his travel trunk had swung open mid flight and the bow-tied air steward was in danger of spilling velouté-of-swan-and-Bollinger canapé on the collection of silk cravats within.
But times change, habits change, people change – usually, these days, into animal onesies. Travel, once the most glamorous and dressy-uppy thing you could do without an invitation from Jacob Rees-Mogg, is now the most squalid and dishevelled thing you can do without an invitation from Rab C. Nesbitt. Those heading away this week for a half-term holiday, beware.
Onesies, in fact, aren’t even the worst. Between bikini tops and baseball caps, economy-class cabins now look like Wear-What-You-Want Day at the worst school in town. It’s hoodies and jogging pants on the way out, vests and flip-flops on the way back (don’t they realise it’s -5°C at Gatwick?), and the only ‘dressing up’ occurring is from the stag groups (there’s always one who seems to embrace the drag theme a little too enthusiastically, isn’t there?).
It’s no better up the front of the bus, mind, where such fashion icons as Naomi Campbell now dress for First Class in full hazmat suits. (Then again, we laughed at her when she wore face masks onboard back in 2019, and look how that panned out.)
Pointing the finger
It’s impossible to pinpoint exactly when travel became so scruffy, but it was certainly some time between Howard Carter excavating the blisteringly hot Valley of the Kings in a three-piece tweed suit in 1922, and Boeing ‘democratising’ flight (i.e. cheapening it beyond redemption) by stuffing 500 souls into a 747 in 1970. (Extrapolating backwards, it seems clear that the Vikings must have turned up in North-East England wearing white tie and tails, though I don’t know how they get the blood out of those Marcella collars.)
As ever, however, the budget boys have a lot to answer for: when Stelios Haji-Ioannou launched easyJet in 1995, he announced that flying was “now as affordable as a pair of jeans”; how different things might have been today if he’d said “as a pair of smart and attractive leisure slacks”.
And it was Michael O’Leary at Ryanair, of course, who taught us to wear our luggage in a bid to avoid extra fees: on short-haul flights now, one regularly sees – and, oh God, smells – passengers wearing six layers and a vast bulky coat with more pockets than a pool table. (It’s only a matter of time, surely, before someone starts selling jackets with a wheelie case sewn on the back.)
A vicious cycle
See, airlines and airports have so effectively vacuumed all the glamour out of travel, that we’d look ludicrous trying to add any of our own. It’s a vicious cycle: if no-one else is dressing up, why would we? Put simply, where once your travelling companion might be Celia Johnson, pin-sharp-perfect in felt hat to catch the Milford Junction train in Brief Encounter, it’s now more likely to be Boris Johnson, hungover and looking like a haystack in a hired suit for a court appearance, on his way back from a boozy party in Italy.
Kelly, just beginning her 25th year as cabin crew, doesn’t want to give her full name or that of her airline, but explains it like this: “When I’m dressed head-to-toe in my cheap, bright red uniform [oops – bit of a giveaway], I can totally understand why my passengers don’t want to waste their effort looking better.”
But she’s got a tip, too. “There’s no such thing as a free upgrade, no matter how many times people ask me, or what daft version of ‘upgradable’ clothes they think they’re wearing. But when I fly, I wear the best clothes I’m taking on that trip. Dress up to travel, and it’s like you’re in your own little Business Class bubble, and nothing can touch you.”
David and Celia would approve.
Five places where you can still have a smart holiday
Still keen to scrub up nicely on your holidays? You can in these last bastions of better dressing. Don’t forget the dickie-bow.
On a cruise
Those who wish to dress for dinner can certainly still do so at sea, where shirts are pressed, gowns donned, cuffs linked and Zimmer frames polished every evening in preparation for the full silver service from extravagantly-accented and cloche-wielding waiters. Choose your cruise carefully, however: many have reduced (or removed altogether) their formalwear functions, and you’ll look silly in black tie on the zip-wire/climbing wall/surfing simulators that have replaced them. Cunard is your best bet.
On safari
The daytime dress code is strict enough: think khaki teamed with khaki, and lots of pockets on your bush jacket (once a requisite for all your ammo; now necessary for long lenses and multiple memory cards). But come sundown – and, crucially, sundowners – you’ll find ‘smart’ and ‘safari’ go together like ‘gin’ and ‘tonic’ and ‘I suppose one more wouldn’t hurt, thanks.’ Scruffpots need not worry, though: it’s linens all round back at camp, so you can get away with dusty and crumpled. Just call it an homage to Hemingway.
In a country-house hotel
Cruise, safari, country pile… basically, the rule is: if Agatha Christie set a book there, you dress nice for it. It might be murder at first, itching away under all that worsted, but you’ll be grateful once the draughts (and, of course, the ghosts) start lowering the temperature. And, from the Cotswolds to the Cairngorms, there’s nothing colder than the stare from a Jeeves-like general manager if a gentleman should dare to try and take his sherry in shirt sleeves (or a lady do so underpearled).
At an ‘upscale’ American resort
A certain kind of US establishment still sees the words ‘jacket required’ as the height of sophistication. (Which is particularly odd considering the jackets are almost always moth-eaten old ‘sports coats’ worn with the wrong-coloured chinos, polo shirt and expensive-but-ugly loafers.) Still, if you want an excellent steak, a lad who’ll park your car for you, and to be called Sir or Ma’am throughout your stay, you’ll wear it.
At a load of other places so inherently naff that they need to overcompensate by making you dress ‘smart’
See: British provincial nightclubs, Vegas casinos’ ‘VIP’ rooms, Middle-Eastern golf clubs… and the House of Commons.
