I cannot be preppy.
I was not born in Philadelphia.
I did not attend boarding school.
I went to a public university. In the Southeast.
I did not grow up in Made in America, LL Bean hand-me-downs.
I occasionally shop at J. Crew (which is not preppy).
I wear slim-fit chinos and shirts, which are also not preppy.
I don’t remember a time when Brooks Brothers was American-owned and I can’t tell you about how great Orvis used to be or why the Norwegian sweaters were better when they were 20% rayon or how the only good camp moccasins are made in Maine and how outsourcing has ruined American clothing.
You see, I like traditional American clothing, the sort once worn only by Ivy-Leaguers and prep schoolers. My fashion role models – at least as far as coats and ties are concerned – start with William F. Buckley and end with George Will. On a wild day, I want to look like PJ O’Rourke. But no matter how hard I try – no matter how crisply my shirt is ironed or how rumpled the legs of my chinos – I can never be a true prep. Because the rules of preppiness are such that you almost have to be born into it – your father handed down his J. Press blazers or dear mother recalls how nice Talbots used to be or you learned the ropes from your prep school mates in New Hampshire. Instead, you may well find yourself on the outside looking in.
And in this respect, preppiness – for all its joys and triumphs – is contra the Gospel of Christ. I can never be a true prep. Ever. No matter how hard I try, there’s something in my DNA that pushes me away from it. I want to wear jeans. I wear t-shirts. Some of my shirts don’t have a perfect collar roll. It goes on and on. (I’m Episcopalian, though, so at least that counts for something).
And it’s much the same way with my faith. Oh, I have faith all right, but it is so very, very fragile. And my vestiges of faith – like my little hints of preppiness – are fleeting things that come and go, drifting with the wind like the fading grass of the Psalmist or the horse and rider that Tolkien lamented. And so thank God – no, seriously – THANK GOD – that my faith, unlike my preppiness – is entirely not of my own making. I did not create it or invent it. I do not sustain it. I did not even choose it. It was authored and perfected and it will be finished by Christ Jesus. (See Hebrews 12)
That is the message of Good Friday. It is finished. Whatever your choice in boat shoes or khakis, whatever the stripes on your tie or the critters on your trousers…it is finished. The end and beginning of who you are is at Calvary. And in the redemption of our sin and forgiveness of our guilt we are known by God and then, perhaps imperfectly, by one another.
Next up…the Gospel of Prep. That’s right, y’all.  There’s grace in those Weejuns.
COMMENTS
18 responses to “The Unforgiving Law of Prep (Part One of Two)”
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No one can never be a true prep. And it’s not “[b]ecause the rules of preppiness are such that you almost have to be born into it.” I feel the same way about the performance of prep and I did go to boarding school in New Hampshire (and an Ivy League College) where I played lacrosse no less, often while wearing pearl earrings. But it doesn’t matter. No matter who you are, or who your parents are, or what schools you went to, you’ll always find yourself on the outside looking in. Because no matter how “in” you are, you’re never “in” enough. Unless you finally just leave the ins and outs behind and recognize, as you so eloquently said, that “[t]he end and beginning of who you are is at Calvary.” Thank God for grace.
Now you’ve gone and said it better than I could. Well done and Amen.
I happened to listen on the radio to The Who’s classic “Who are you?” this morning. The Gospel answers with: You are a new creation in Christ. Not the son or daughter of so-and-so, not the job you have (or don’t), not the schooling, not the achievements or even failures of the past. The Apostle Paul counted all his status symbols as refuse when compared to his new life in Christ.
Huh, it’s funny, I never thought of people wanting to be preppy, or preps wishing they could be more preppy. I grew up in hand-me-downs that were anything but L.L.Bean. I have some sense of fashion, but could never obsess about it. I always thought it was more or less a mental condition in people and somewhat felt sorry for them for having it.
I’ll be the first to admit that this is a secondary issue in certain respects – Christ died to forgive sins first and foremost, with preppiness a bit further down the line – but clothes, like food and music and art – are forms of human expression and thus can play a great role in the way we define ourselves. Ergo, the Gospel surely has something to say here.
no doubt.I think if I’m honest with myself, I’m probably just as concerned with how I dress, I just never went for the preppy look.
The “reality” of this world is that, “gospel” or “no gospel”, who your parents, grandparents, great grandparents are,were, and what they do,did, where you went to school, your social circle, etc.,etc. always always always matter, and matter until the day you die. People at the top can say it doesn’t matter, but in the same breath they will always tell you that they know this because they went to school at …… and are personal friends with …… I much prefer the honest recognition that, yes, and hell yes, it does matter.
Hi Michael – Thanks for brining up this important point. Of course where we went to school, who we know, who are families are, etc. matter to the extent that they have concrete (and often absurd) effects on our day to day lives – what doors are opened or closed, what rights or privileges are extended or denied, what choices we are or are not able to make. But while such effects are both practically and experientially so important and so very real, there is still room to ask if they really “matter” in a much larger sense. That is where “gospel” or “no gospel” makes all the difference. Such things may matter very much to the world and to all of us who live in it, but they matter not at all to a living, loving God who gives his grace freely by choice and not because of who we know or what we’ve done. So do I think that the gospel (at least in this sense) changes what happens to me because of the things I have or have not done or the connections I do or do not have or the successes I have or have not had? Not really, at least not right away. But I do think that the gospel changes how I experience those events, how I value them, and how I understand them. And this in turn, has begun to transform (albeit incrementally) how I act each time I am confronted with the choice to value someone because everyone else seems to, or simply because he or she is a child of God. I think there is real hope in that – in the belief that maybe, slowly, what matters to the world will matter less to me and what matters to God will matter more. I think that kind of transformation can change the “reality” of this world bit by bit, bringing it just one iota closer to what God wants it to be instead of what it currently is.
This speaks to me profoundly as someone who went to Yale but is from Northern California. I used to walk by J.Press and think I wish I could pull it off. Glad we’ve left saying these types of things about hipsters and moved to prep. One is not truly a hipster if one shops at Urban Outfitters, for example. New one I learned while at Yale is the identity of “trad.” Is this the inner circle of the uberprep, something altogether different, or just those who try too hard?
I think trad is a slightly older version of preppy – probably a little more button up, and less audacious. And yes, there is a sociological difference between the two. A good source on that is ivy-style.com or the Daily Prep.
Matt, The “ivy-style.com” site is a fascinating echo of Sam Johnson’s A Grammar of the English Tongue, it seems to me. Both seem to have been created at least in part as handy reference tools for the aspirational.
Probably so – but if the comments are to be believed, a number of that site’s readers have been wearing the duds for a long time. I’ll admit a certain level of jealousy…
One of the great things about living in England is that, despite England’s quite staunch class divide, they haven’t a clue about how to categorize me according to their informal caste system.
Brits usually know very little about American class divides. They’ve never heard of Brooks Brothers or Jos. A Bank. I never had the chance to go to Eton. My accent doesn’t give me away to them (it’s usually assumed I’m from Canada). And since Americans are notoriously under-dressed, my clothes don’t give me away either. I’m a totally free agent.
Interesting perspective, Todd. Thanks. I’ve heard, though, that certain articles of clothing – like repp stripes – are to be left to those who attended the appropriate school or served in the appropriate regiment, whereas in America things are much more democratic.
Caroline, Thank you for those genuine and deeply felt comments from the heart, and a Christian heart at that. I wish there were many more “Carolines” in this world!!!
Caroline and Michael,
Thank you for your posts. I offer the following link to a sermon by Dr. Kenneth Boa which focuses in part on the fact that we were created for relationships, both with God and one another.
http://www.sthelenas1712.org/uploads/podcasts/sermons/Ken-Boa-sermon-12-2-12.mp3
At risk of sounding like a hater: please forgive me for thinking you are trying too hard.
“Preppy” is nothing, really — nothing at all. You disagree, I guess. But what is it, then? The Preppy Handbook, which is cute, and has some nice insights, but is sort of a joke? Is it the set of rules provided by the hilarious “Class” book written by the great critic Paul Fussell as a jocular side project? Is it the joking “Are you a preppie?” poster that Tom Shadyac made in the 80s?
You can find as many people who think that preppy is lame as who think it is good. The detractors are correct: it is derivative. The defenders of prep are just as correct: it is important because it is a form of tradition.
Whether or not one is preppy has nothing to do with whether one is capable of individual style, nor anything to do with whether a person displays true community concern. And it has nothing to do with whether a person is strong enough to handle solitude, or deep reflection, or complexity or doubt.
Maybe I can try to say this in a different way. Who do you think understands expression better: an Upper East Side matron, or Cindy Sherman dressing herself up as an Upper East Side matron, the latter for a photo series that is a meditation on conscious and unconscious forms of artifice in personal expression? Who knows herself better, the UES matron or Cindy Sherman?
With due respect, I would say that I think George Will is an interesting writer and thinker, but he is not a particularly good dresser. He used to frequently be visible in the neighborhood of Barnaby Woods. He looks like a nice guy who is a little bit uptight, and who is trying to choose clothes that are uncontroversial and respectful. That’s fine, I guess, but nothing to look up to.
I admire that you have taken the time to write out your thoughts and to express uncertainty and anxiety about identity. But there are better things to be anxious about, I promise. (Cf. Kafka, Poe, Baldwin, et al.)
If you like clothes, great. Lots of people do, myself included. But I have bothered to write this out, at risk of seeming impolite, because I think we all diminish ourselves a little bit if we allow culture to let us feel pressure to spend money so that we can be something or someone other than the person/people we were to begin with. John Berger’s “Ways of Seeing” is a good example of a work that shows the risks we run when we let ourselves be influenced aspirationally into thinking that property, and/or that the aping of advertising memes, are the ways to fulfillment.
I don’t mean to lecture. I don’t know anything more about this than you. Of course it can be important to feel proud of how we look. But I feel like we should all try to let it not distract us from other things that are even more important. I think this sentiment is the same as what you are saying when you discuss the greater/primary importance of Good Friday.