Wearing White

{Prompt: What did you wear when younger that mortifies you now?}

Fashion

I guess I’ve been around long enough to talk about the embarrassing fashion trends of the past, but it’s kind of hard not to love the way we embraced of psychedelic fashion in the 70s or the Hip Hop culture of the 80s.

And I was there, wearing striped, plaid, or swirling patterns in the 70s along with my classmates at elementary school.

And later, wearing long tube socks and baseball shirts with record album artwork in the mid-70s.

And even later, wearing muscle pants and tank tops during the Jane Fonda inspired aerobics movement in the early 80s. Or Cosby sweaters and pleated pants in the mid 80s.

There is a beautiful school picture of 9 or 10 year-old me in 1969 or 1970, wearing a beige, orange, and brown striped shirt, with long pointed collars, that could only have been worn when hippies were fighting for peace and love.

And I’m wearing a light brown home-made vest — only one of many hand-sewn articles of clothing fashioned from a pattern by my mom.

I’m standing in front of a pile of books and an apple, with a library themed back-drop. I actually love the picture, but having the apple there kind of irks me. As if I was that 1950s era kid that would bring an apple for the teacher. Yuck!

4th or 5th grade school photo.

Another photo, in the 70s shows a sproutly young adult wearing tube socks and short shorts — possibly on the way to the basketball court, or just back from a game. Other photos, in the 80s, show glimpses of a young man in muscle pants (I had at least three pairs) or wearing a colorful rugby shirt (I had many).

(Me and Mike in 1980s fashion: Baseball shirts (Kansas & Willie Nelson), Short shorts, Adidas shoes, and high tube socks)

I don’t find any of those photos to be mortifying. Actually, I’m a little proud of those times when I embraced the fashion trends with such abandon. It’s when I was fully immersed in a time, in pop culture, that those crazy styles were captured on film.

Why should I be ashamed of being ‘hip’… or ‘groovy’… or ‘cool’… or even ‘bodacious’ (even though I was really none of those things)? It’s when you aren’t thinking about the camera; when the oddest clothes seem like a natural choice, that you are living in the moment… living your best life.

Wearing muscle pants for MS150 ride, circa 1990.

Uniforms

The clothes I find to be the most embarrassing were the ones that you might consider to be a ‘costume’, or a ‘uniform’. My khaki boy scout uniform would seem too goody-two-shoes today (but I sure loved those merit badges and the metal belt clips).

My baseball uniform always felt like it belonged on someone else. I wore the mid-length sleeves and pin-stripe pants of the baseball outfit, but I sure didn’t deserve them. Of all the sports that I played, I was most ill prepared for baseball.

And my marching band uniform comes closest to being an embarrassment to anything I’ve ever worn. It featured a felt cavalier hat (spray-painted black), high waisted dress pants, and a gold satin cumberbund.

Or maybe I just felt embarrassed to be there. Imagine a skinny teenager, with oily hair, wispy facial hair, and zits, dressed in costume, with a pair of cymbals. Who really likes the way they look at age 15, when they’re lanky and awkward? I know I didn’t.

Broughton marching band costume - not as bad as I thought.

The White Lab Jacket

However, the worst — the most abhorrent uniform, to my thinking, is the short, waist-length white lab coat. That’s right. The short white lab jacket is the worst.

Although a doctor’s white jacket might seem like a sign of competence — nay, of prestige — to an outside observer, it is nothing of the sort, particularly to those who work in the hospital setting.

To be clear, lab coats come in varying lengths, which when worn according to the protocol of a teaching hospital, range from waist length (for medical students), to hip length (for residents), to knee length (for attendings). And the length of your jacket is a clear indication of your abilities.

The short, “introductory” lab coat of the medical student, is the hardest to stomach — the hardest to wear. It’s pretty clear, to the student, at this point in their apprenticeship, that the lab coat is undeserved, and more of a warning to the trained medical staff that surround you. If you’re a nurse on a ward, and an aspiring doctor in a waist length lab coat comes by; you probably already know more about medicine than their academically saturated brain has yet absorbed.

And if a resident in a hip length coat gives a medical order, it still wouldn’t be wrong to regard it with suspicion. Medical specialists, called “attendings”, enjoy the status of a full length uniform, coat tails draping to their knees — every bit as elegant as a full length tuxedo.

(2010 Publicity photo for Village Family Practice)

Sidenote: Non-physicians also wear lab coats; and if you, in fact, are working in a lab, then you are a credit to the scientific profession, and you deserve applause, but if you wear a white coat in the service of some pseudoscientific or medically-adjacent profession, then you should be tarred and feathered.

Not only the length, but also the quality of the white lab coat changes over time. In the beginning, it is of low quality. Only the most rudimentary of stitching, coarse fabric, and a universal fit.

It is only adorned with the references and gear that can be stuffed in the pockets. Usually the small upper left hand pocket contains a pen and a pen light, and sometimes a list of phone numbers, or a small plastic-card-reference of lab values or advanced CPR protocols. The “Intern Pocket Survival Guide” might fit in the small pocket, and “The Sanford Guide to Antimicrobial Therapy” might fit, also.

The lower right pocket would contain your more comprehensive on-call guides, such as the “Oxford American Handbook of Clinical Diagnosis” or the “Little, Brown Spiral Manual of Problem-Oriented Medical Diagnosis”. The lower left hand pocket usually held a clinical rotation-specific guide to the most common medical conditions for that specialty. It could be swapped out… a pocket guide to psychiatry… or obstetrics… or pediatrics… or surgery… depending upon the need.

Once the pockets were balanced with medical books and plastic algorithm cards, the stethoscope or the dictaphone could be added in any space that remained. Over time, the stethoscope invariably was relocated to wrap around the neck of the doctor in training, partly to make more room in the pockets below, but also to give the illusion of medical capability and readiness.

As the jacket grows in length it also becomes embroidered, first with the doctor’s name, then with the name and specialty, or with the name and the practice. The longer the white blazer, the more buttons are required — each button added as if it was a badge of experience or a medal of honor.

The longer jackets require slits in the sides, so that one can stand with one’s hands, passing through the jacket seams, into the pants pockets beneath. It is the height of posing, for a doctor to stand with one hand in a pocket, while leaning with the other arm against a display monitor of patient’s vitals.

These long, flowing knee-length jackets add the same action hero panache as a flowing cape, or a black trench coat from The Matrix.

When I completed residency, I wore long white jackets, with sturdy inseams, and a properly tailored fit, for almost 30 years. I no longer had the apprehension and the anxiety of an intern in a short white lab jacket.

I assembled a collection of button shirts and silk ties. I had respectable beige polyester pants and maroon leather Rockport shoes. I pretty fully exemplified the appearance and demeanor of a board certified family physician.

If there were fashion trends in the last 30 years, I most certainly missed them. I was committed to a doctorly “look” that reflected my feelings of integrity and empathy.

But when I retired, I left the fashion and accessories of the medical profession behind.

I began wearing the most outrageous outfit so far…

for cycling…

skin tight Lycra.

But that’s another story.

(Trying to reach the top of Grandfather Mountain in 2014.)

(On the way to Mount Mitchell, a few years later.)