I emceed an event late last year that was mainly attended by guests from Cayman, Jamaica and other Caribbean islands.
What immediately struck me was how dressed to the nines everyone was … and there was no shying away from excess.
The ladies were decked out in stunning, sparkling gowns – some with barely an inch of fabric visible in a sea of rhinestones and crystals. Hairstyles were elaborate and jewellery was on full display. They would have made a Hollywood red carpet parade look downright drab in comparison.
And the men at the event were colourful roosters, strutting their stuff in suits that ran the gamut from classic black to iridescent green. They were dapper and stood out in a crowd.
Altogether, the audience was a magnificent sight. That’s one of the things I’ve always loved about people from the Caribbean – they have a great sense of occasion, and dress to properly mark it. Big, small, short, tall … they ooze confidence with positive body image vibes to spare.
Another example of the classic Caribbean wardrobe is when you see churchgoers walking along the road. ‘Sunday best’ truly applies. As congregations in general have entered the modern era, it’s not unusual to see worshippers in jeans, sneakers and casual tops. But not when it comes to local churches in these parts. From children to adults, they are in suits, dresses, hats and ties.
When we were in Canton restaurant (now Silk) on a Sunday, there would often be families sitting down for a meal after church looking so smart, we felt downright scruffy.
Maybe it’s an age thing on my part (maybe?), but it does seem a shame that casual attire is more the norm for events that in the past would have warranted dressier choices. I remember my parents telling me about a show in Vegas they attended at one of the upmarket hotels. My father wore a jacket and my mother wore an elegant dress. When they arrived at the venue, they looked like they had to be part of the show – perhaps the hosts – as almost everyone else was wearing shorts, polo shirts and even (gasp!) flip-flops.
When my best friend Lynne and I tried to score last-minute tickets outside the opera in Verona years ago, I was in a long velvet cloak and fancy schmancy pants, and Lynne was sporting something equally upmarket. We were only able to get seats on the upper level of the arena, but better than nothing. As we entered the massive venue from one of its staircases, the vista a) Resembled a scene from ‘Gladiator’; and b) Seemed to be populated with ‘Romans’ who looked like they’d just played a round of golf. As I tripped over my cloak, all I could see was sportswear for miles. This was a live production of ‘Aida’. In Verona. In an historic arena. And WE were the ones who apparently hadn’t got the dress code memo.
I’ll be the first to admit that due to a busy life or just laziness, I don’t always go out looking my best when I’m running errands. Although, you usually won’t find me roaming around a liquor store in a thong bikini – a delightful sight I recently encountered, as two tourists took their time inspecting rum bottles. I dunno … take the sand away, and suddenly that amount of visible posterior skin just seems super wrong. I’m not running for a large bedsheet, but how about some sort of cover-up? Anyone who knows me knows I’m no prude (in fact, I’m thinking about sharing a story in a future edition that would more than prove me right on that count), but I don’t think you have to be in order to hope for no-bum zones in your local retail shop.
I’m sure there will be those who argue I’m being too stuffy, but if that becomes normal dress everywhere, how long before police have to keep a file of cheek- as well as finger-prints in case some would-be burglar backs into a bottle of vodka before fleeing the scene? It’s a slippery slope, my friends.
Anyway, I’m really digressing at this stage, and may have to talk to a professional about some clearly unresolved concerns I have. I know I’ve written about this subject before.
The original point I was trying to make was that on that evening I hosted the event, it was brilliant to see so many people really getting into the spirit of a posh affair. That’s why I’m very partial to gala season – every night is fashion on parade. It’s nice to dress up once in a while. I’m not saying we should bring back gowns, corsets, top hats, tails … basically revert to ‘Downton Abbey’ days, but a little glam and gloss from time to time is a good thing. If I need a stylist for my next big event, I’m consulting one of the Caribbean ladies who knocked it out of the park at the Kimpton Seafire. You know who you are.
And, if I want to keep people at bay when I’m shopping at Foster’s, I’ll ask that lady in the thong if she has a spare in my size.
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