Confused by formal Hanoi clothing
Posted: July 27, 2010 Filed under: expats, Hanoi, weather, work | Tags: clothes, Hanoi, heat, hot, sweat, weather 8 Comments »
A management consultant, who I used to ghost write a column for, once told me the real story of Joseph. It appears there was no technicolour dreamcoat.
He said somehow the world for “with sleeves” was translated wrongly. It wasn’t gaudily flambouyant at all, just sleeved. But such a jacket had its own message about the wearer. Sleeves were too warm for manual workers – sleeves were the preserve of management.
It was these delusions of grandeur that so wound up his brothers – not crimes against fashion.
I think about that alot as I continue to try and work out formal Hanoi dress codes.
I see men in suits here. Light suits, but we’re not talking beige linen attire. These are proper black wool-made suits.
Starched, buttoned up collars too. And a Tie. Shiny shoes.
A look so institutionalised that I’ve seen westerners strolling Hanoi streets at lunchtimes with jackets on. I never did quite work out why jacket-removal was considered such a sartorial sin by some.
For the most part though, it’s a look that says – I work in air con. Possibly even – I travel by car. Moderately impressive, but then again putting on extra layers so you can work in an artificially cooled environment does seem odd.
The suit mimics a western ideal just as the temperature does.
I’ll be buying a suit for my late October wedding when, I fear, it still won’t be quite cool enough to avoid sweating profusely. For day-to-day client-visit wear I’m still confused about what is acceptable.
In the end I’ve settled for chinos (which I’ve always hated), a pair of Doc Martens shoes from the above (they do my size and I hate slips-on) and my usual blue/white/black mix of check shirts, (specifically chosen to hide sweat). I try to wear long sleeves for more formal meetings to avoid that darts player look.
There are, of course, those who can do the suit thing without sweating. In moderately smart clothes at a wedding reception at the weekend, I looked around wondering if everyone was quite as sweaty as me. Reassuringly, for the most part, they were.
But there was one guy : beige suit, pastel shade shirt, tie done up to the neck. His forehead was bone dry and expression so serene compared to the sweat-in-the-eyes wincing of the rest of us.
I’m a big man who sweats who has chosen to live in forty degrees plus. You can add that to being a social media consultant in a country that could ban it all tomorrow.
Sometimes I doubt my intelligence.
