海角大神

We traveled in style

I聽grew up in working-class Jersey City during the 1960s and 鈥�70s. The fathers worked long hours; the mothers maintained the house. Resources were limited, and vacations were low-key 鈥� a weekend at the Jersey shore or day trips to South Beach on Staten Island. When I was age 13, my family created a minor sensation when we drove to Florida (in a Chevy Nova with no air conditioning). Florida! It was as though we were escaping Earth鈥檚 gravity to travel to infinity and beyond.

Despite the modest incomes, and the long hours of work, what we had in common was that we dressed up when we traveled. Nothing fancy, but neat and presentable. It was as though our parents were saying, 鈥淵es, money is scarce, but we can still look good. After all, the neighbors are watching.鈥�

To this end, when we embarked on our Florida trip, all our clothes were clean and pressed. My mother had hand scrubbed our sneakers. No PJs or jeans with torn-out knees. Our undershirts were as white as the driven snow. My siblings and I didn鈥檛 protest because it was just the way things were.

And then, one day, our Florida trip was outdone when the Rutiglianis, who lived across the street from us, announced they were traveling to Italy. The year was 1965, and air travel was still a novelty and a tremendous expense for families of limited means. Well, word spread like wildfire. The neighborhood was envious, and yet excited, as though we were sending forth representatives whose responsibility was to make all of us look good.聽

The summer day dawned warm and sunny. The Rutiglianis emerged from their house with the dignity and ceremony of ambassadors. The father was trim in a dark suit and tie. The mother wore a summery blue print dress adorned with tiny yellow roses. The boys, all three of them, looked uncomfortable in their suits, ties, and polished shoes. Mrs. Rutigliani was clearly bent on her family putting its best foot forward. The entire neighborhood turned out to bid the good-looking family a pleasant voyage. And off they went, as pretty as a picture, while the rest of us applauded.

As I write these words, I realize how dated all of this sounds. I suppose there鈥檚 something to be said for the current taste for traveling 鈥渁s you are.鈥� It certainly takes less preparation and less time looking in the mirror. But still ... My attention was caught by the recent words of U.S. Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy, encouraging travelers to 鈥渄ress with respect.鈥� He asserted that forgoing pajamas and slippers at the airport would promote more civility among travelers, resulting in a better travel experience for everyone.

Let me say without hesitation or apology that I agree. Some years back, I was flying to Guatemala. Coach, of course. I had on a dress shirt, freshly pressed slacks, and comfortable brown leather walking shoes. While I sat reading my book, an airline service agent came over and asked me to approach the desk. Oh, no, I thought. There鈥檚 a problem with my reservation. But that wasn鈥檛 it. The pleasant woman smiled and said, 鈥淲e need a passenger for an upgrade to first class. Are you interested?鈥�

Interested? I鈥檓 6-foot-3 and, for me, legroom is everything. I leapt at the opportunity. But I was also curious. 鈥淲hy me?鈥� I asked her. 鈥淭here must be 200 people in the waiting area.鈥�

She smiled again. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e so nicely dressed.鈥�

I think I valued the compliment more than the opportunity to fly in style. I guess I owe both to my high school Latin teacher, who taught us, Vestis virum facit.

Clothes make the man.

Thank you, Mr. Howe.