Dandyism as a Halloween Costume

“Mix a gentleman and a macho with a shot of adventurer and you get a Dandy.” That’s according to the description of the dandy Halloween costume, which can be yours for $135.45. It’s complete with a top hat, a nylon cravat, jacket, trousers, vest, and cane. Fancy!

Dandyism was perfected in the early 1800s by the immaculately made-up Beau Brummell, a non-aristocrat who became famous for wearing pompous clothes and adopting the snobby aloofness of the aristocracy. He’d famously spend four hours getting all dolled up just to go out on the town for twenty minutes. But dandyism of that era wasn’t simply a fashion statement. It was an intellectual movement with top-shelf artists and literary luminaries among its adherents. Baudelaire is regularly quoted on the topic. He wrote that “Dandyism is the last spark of heroism amid decadence.” By this, he conveys the element of mockery inherent in LARPing as an aristocrat.

I had a friend once try to convince me that fashion is the greatest artform. It’s impossible to argue this case without using the term “make a statement” with reference to clothing. This is the heart of fashion, since it’s about adopting a look and being seen. And by being seen, that’s how you say something to the world.

OK, what statement exactly does dandyism have to say to the modern world? Today, the ruling elite often dress in t-shirts, jeans, and hoodies. My first job interview in Silicon Valley, I showed up in a suit. The CEO of the company interviewed me in a sloppy t-shirt and a baseball cap. A hell of a role reversal. If I’d wanted to subtly mock the ruling class, would I have shown up shirtless with mud on my chest in order to outdo him in the slovenliness game?

Forget the job interview context. If someone walks down the street wearing ultra-fancy clothes today, does it make a statement about anything other than that individual’s choice of style? Likely not. Tim Dillon has shared the anecdote that, in LA, if you see a homeless-looking person in Whole Foods, they’re probably a wealthy director or producer. The fancy-dressed people are all the agents and interns.

Yet dandyism persists! We’ve got prom night. We’ve got NBA stars who show up to the game in a zoot suit. We’ve got drag kings. We’ve got Jordan Peterson in his three-piece suit. We’ve got that random old guy who shows up to poetry night at a local café wearing a thrift-store suit, top hat, and scarf around his neck.

But mostly we have Halloween. I recently visited Sacramento’s iconic costume store, Evangeline’s. There are several sections of the store designated for dandyism garb. Top hats. Peacock feathers. Canes.

Oddly, these faux old-school aristocratic items fit right in with the skeleton costumes, the witch costumes, and the zombie costumes. Or maybe it’s not so odd. The aristocrats of the 1800s are all dead. We’re now dressing up as their ghosts.