Truly a language of dress

It’s this book published by the University of the West Indies Press that had me considering those Internet stories that swore Donald Trump’s wife wore a pantsuit to the debate to express covert support for Hillary Clinton or questioned why the Clintons wore purple in Hillary Clinton’s concession speech. I know purple is associated with royalty and many religions associate it with protection.

So I’m thinking, hmmmm… Is there something to these stories that your clothes reflect more than your mood? The Language of Dress… makes a compelling argument that it does. Looking at Jamaican society from 1760 to 1890, the author notes the difference in culture and dress among three main categories of Jamaican society: white, coloureds and Africans.

We take our ability to choose the clothes we wear for granted, and few of us give any thought to how slaves wore clothes. Slaves did not all dress alike, Buckridge tells us.

Some slaves could make their own clothes. Some slaves “lost” their mistresses clothes and redesigned them into their own garments. House slaves might get hand-me-downs from masters.

Slave dress reflected class, status and occupation.

Slave women, the author tells us, were often good seamstresses and they created clothes that made a statement. The law required slave owners to provide osnaburg fabric, but slaves did not want to wear this dull, coarse material.

Slaves made dyes and pigments – cashew nuts created a nice rusty colour. Slaves had innovative ways of making cloth, which included the use of tree bark. “Slave dress was deceptive,” writes Buckridge.

“To the European observer, a decently dressed slave was perceived as happy and contented. But for many slaves, dressing up was their way of escaping the reality of their suffering…” Buckridge chronicles the fascinating details of how the people of Jamaica – particularly slaves and free coloureds – dressed in clothes from their countries of origin, adapted their traditional clothes to fit the social, cultural and economic factors that defined their lives, and then used clothes as a creative form of rebellion. This, Buckridge demonstrates, is how free coloureds used bright colours, elaborate designs and large hats – ostentatious outfits that made a clear statement: ridiculing their mistresses’ opulence. This secret form of rebellion fell comfortably in the double entendre of old-time Carnival costumes such as that of the Dame Lorraine.

This form of non-verbal resistance gave an added sense of power because the message would be misinterpreted or most likely not even understood by the very people that free coloured mocked.

Head wraps also had a hidden message. Elaborate head wraps suggested something regal – like a crown. Women used head wraps to create a sense of individuality, and, Buckridge says, they could even be used to create an aura of flirtation. The head wrap could also be used to create a sense of community. Hats are yet another story filled with hidden messages.

When you read Buckridge’s book you will realise there truly was a language of dress