Brent Shannon, The Cut of His Coat: Men, Dress, and Consumer
Culture in Britain, 1860-1914 (Ohio University Press, 2006)
On the Web site for Transylvania University (that's in Kentucky, not Romania), Brent Shannon is listed as a visiting assistant professor of English. He co-authored a column in The Chronicle of Higher Education (dated July 18, 2003 but only accessible to subscribers) with his wife, then doctoral student Margaret Marquis, in which they express legitimate frustration at their inability to find a tenure-track job between them, despite their academic credentials. That was before the publication of The Cut of His Coat, a very nice book-length re-working of Shannon's doctoral dissertation. Alas, even this noteworthy piece of scholarship and what now amounts to four years of teaching experience doesn't seem to have gotten Dr. Shannon into a tenure-track position. Let this serve as an object lesson to those of you slaving away on advanced degrees in the humanities. It's a cold, cruel world in academe.
We requested a review copy of The Cut of His Coat because it's about consumerism during a period of British history that intersects with many of the works of historical fiction I've read or reviewed. I will be honest: this book grew out of a doctoral dissertation; it's best described as a monograph. That means it's a bit dry for the general reader, i.e., it features long, complex sentences, obscure references, sophisticated language, and a reliance on theories of gender and culture that some might find off-putting. I won't say I read the book from cover to cover, and I definitely wouldn't recommend it for an evening's entertainment. Nonetheless, it's a well-crafted reference work.
In terms of this period, and certainly this subject, I consider myself a reasonably well-educated layperson, albeit hardly an expert. As evidenced by some of my earlier reviews for Green Man (e.g., A Nation of Shopkeepers), I've been interested in retail history for quite some time. I've read some of Shannon's references, including Rachel Bowlby's Just Looking (non-fiction, 1985); Arnold Bennett's The Old Wives' Tale (fiction, first published in 1908); Anthony Trollope's The Way We Live Now (fiction, first published in 1875); and Emile Zola's The Ladies' Paradise (also fiction, first published in 1883). But I must confess I hadn't really paid much attention to the descriptions of men's clothing in these books. In fact, as Shannon points out in The Cut of His Coat, men's clothing was not often described in the novels of the period at all.
The primary thesis of The Cut of His Coat, if I read it right, is that the so-called Great Masculine Renunciation -- the shift in men's clothing toward the sober and conservative that followed the French Revolution -- should not be construed to mean that men stopped paying attention to their appearances and lost interest in fashion altogether. Au contraire, Shannon argues, the advertisements, magazine articles and self-help books of the period provide ample evidence that many men continued to be quite conscious of their appearance. Indeed, Shannon points out, the increasing availability of affordable, attractive and high quality men's ready-to-wear made it possible for even middle class men to cultivate a fashionable mien. Naturally this fashion-consciousness fueled a demand for men's clothing of different sizes and styles that was beneficial to the industry at both the production and distribution ends.
I was particularly impressed with the splendid packaging job Ohio University Press gave the book. Would that all obscure works of non-fiction were as attractive and useful! The Cut of His Coat has an eye-catching cover, with the book's title curving down the outline of a nineteenth-century man in dark gray trousers, waistcoat and long jacket. The book is full of black-and-white illustrations, primarily advertisements and cartoons from the period of interest, all with captions showing their original date and publication venue. These are interspersed throughout the text and generally discussed in narrative on a nearby page, so that they are mutually enhancing. At the back of the book are endnotes, a comprehensive bibliography that includes both primary and secondary sources (in other words, publications from the period under study as well as more recent books and articles about the period), closing with an index.
I would enthusiastically recommend this book to any reader with interests in nineteenth-century British cultural history. And I sincerely hope that it helps Dr. Shannon land a tenure-track appointment at the campus of his dreams!
