Before I tell you about my new work uniform, some news:
Changes are coming:
I’ll be posting you fewer newsletters from now on, I’d like to spend more time on each. All the details are on the about page.
I’m considering leaving Substack and reworking the way I run my business. I’m don’t want to go into detail about this here in the newsletter, I know it’s a niche subject!
So you can disregard that bit of information and you’ll continue to get the newsletter just as you do now. Or, if you’re a paid subscriber and want to follow the ‘behind the scenes’ story of the restructuring, you’ll find a link to a private blog in the footer of this email.
Dear friends,
After reading Cafe Anne's last newsletter I had an urge to adopt a uniform.
I wear the same thing every day. I've been doing this for years, and plan to continue until I die—assuming they allow this in the hospital. Of all the lifestyle options I've experimented with over the decades, adopting a personal uniform has been the biggest winner by far.
She has multiples of the same shirt, skirt and tank top putting together the same simple outfit every day. Though inspired, I didn’t have the urge to go down the exact same route. Instead, I realised I’d love to have a work uniform! In fact a small selection of uniforms.
In one of the comments on ‘Trying not to fall over’, a friend wrote, ‘I’m loving your ice walking equipment list! My friend Emma calls me Mr Benn as I have the right outfit for every endeavour! I love a bit of good kit..’
As I sit here, there is a single picture on my desk. It’s Mr Benn! I’ve always loved Mr Benn, is this the source of my uniform fantasy?
I wrote about uniforms last year. I’d been reading ‘What Artists Wear’ and was struck by Agnes Martin’s uniform:
Agnes Martin worked in a warehouse in Manhattan. She worked in the cold light of the river. You see her photographed here in a quilted and padded jacket and trousers. They are purely functional, worn for warmth.
The photo is taken from What Artists Wear, often artists, like monks, would wear a kind of uniform. I want a uniform too. I want to wake up and put on clothes that remind me of what I intend to do that day, but even more, I want them to remind of who I am, of what’s important to me. The Buddha and his followers had a uniform. They gave up their fancy clothes and dressed in robes made of rags, reminding them each day of their vow of renunciation. Steve Jobs famously wore his black turtleneck, blue jeans and new balance trainers, all the time.
I see in these examples both a renunciation and an affirmation. Taking away choices makes life simpler. You go each day to your tiny closet and you know what you’ll be wearing. But everything in there affirms something about you, who you are, and what you intend to do with your life. Your uniform is what you feel most deeply at home in.
I’d forgotten that emphatic statement, ‘I want a uniform too.’ But now maybe it’s time to make it happen.
“She lived and worked on Coenties slip, and in light of the east river on the southern tip of Manhattan, far removed from smart and sharp city life.
The jacket and pants are padded, quilted, worn for warmth. They are garments of supreme function and beauty. There is a simplicity to the colour, the buttoning, the shell. The quilting makes a grid. Her hair is kept out of the way in a plat, which itself makes a grid. There is the grid of the bricks on the wall.”
CHARLIE PARKER ON AGNES MARTIN
Does what we wear matter?
As Buddhists, aren't we about going beyond appearances? Well yes and no. Appearance and emptiness are two sides of the same coin.
We might, in time, see there is no essential 'me' in here which must manifest in the world in any particular way. But we also understand we have to manifest in the world in some way.
How we manifest matters. I liken it to the sambhogakaya aspect of the Buddha. The Buddha was said to have three bodies, kayas in sanskrit. There’s his dharmakaya, his essential nature, emptiness. Then his nirmanakaya, his human body of flesh and blood, subject to death and decay. In between these two is the sambhogakaya, often called the body of enjoyment. This body is to do with energy and communication, it’s how the Buddha manifested in the world, how he appeared to others. It’s something more than his literal body.
We can’t help but manifest in a particular way. How we appear in the world is one way that we communicate ourselves. Ideally our appearance mirrors who we are in a way that feels totally comfortable, there's nothing worse than wearing something that doesn't feel like you.
You’ve heard of revenge porn? When couples have naked pictures of one another that they expose when the relationship goes sour. Well me and my wife have what we call ‘revenge fashion porn’. Pictures of each other in unfashionable outfits. Here’s one of her. Unfortunately she still looks good.
That’s the thing. If you feel good, you look good. An artist friend of mine once said an outfit will always work as long as you love every item in it. In theory the outfit might not work, but you, yourself, are the cohesion.
Putting together my uniform
If you think about it, nearly every serious vocation requiring real dedication and focus involves some sort of uniform. Soldiers, health care workers, clergy, EMTs and cops all suit up for the job. This is because wearing a uniform frees one from distraction. I want to focus my time and energy on what I'm doing, not what I'm wearing.
My serious vocation is exploring ordinary everyday life in the light of the dharma. It involves observing, thinking and writing. So, in short I’ll call it my thinking uniform.
Where do I start? I think you need some single detail from which your uniform can grow. Mine is an image of a row of pens and pencils lined up in the top pocket. All good uniforms should have some tools attached!
I know a carpenter here in Stockholm who’s always immaculately turned out. He wears bib and braces a bit like the Carhartt ones, but both less fashionable and far cooler.
What I remember is this neat row of pens and pencils in his top pocket. Weird how some images are just etched into your being.
Next week’s newsletter assignment is to consider putting together your own uniform. It’s also the deadline for having my thinking uniform ready to show you!
Do you already have a uniform? Send pics and I'll include some in the next newsletter. Or is there a uniform you dream of wearing? (Is it all beginning to sound a bit kinky?)
Getting inspiration from ‘What Artist’s Wear’ by Charlie Porter ⬇️
Rodin's thinker is naked.
I try to sit on the floor when I work, I meditate, and I do yoga and dance, so mine would definitely have to include some sort of stretchy trousers. I like a sort of ninja trouser aesthetic!
This made me think of how my dad wears a blue boiler suit when he is in his art studio, and how that’s something I really associate with him. He taught art before he retired and when we were kids would come home in his boiler suit covered in different coloured splodges.