Dress to Impress your readers! by Elizabeth Kay

 Every so often you come across a book where what people are wearing is described in great detail. After a while it becomes annoying as you want to get on with the story, not the author’s attempt at visually fixing a character in your head with irrelevant detail. Their mannerisms, disabilities and speech patterns may be far more effective. So if you’re going to describe someone’s clothing, it must be important. My first example is from my children’s book The Divide, set in alternative world, where the different sorts of human-like mythical beings are distinguished by the colour of their clothing.

"Tansy had never been to Tiratattle before, and Ramson was pretending to be more familiar with it than one school visit could possibly have made him. He refused point-blank to ask directions, and denied outright that they’d been past the chalice stall three times. The shops were full of candles and incense burners, their designs quite unlike anything Tansy had ever seen in Geddon. There were cuddyak carts everywhere, diggelucks carrying pickaxes, lickits balancing trays of cakes on their heads. And japegrins, with their red hair and their garish purple clothes; thousands of them. Every so often she saw one wearing black, which was extraordinary, and the passers-by always got out of their way.

“They’re the militia,” Ramson told her in his most annoying know-all voice. “See the badges?”

The conference centre was situated underground, and they had to take a flying carpet down to the sixth level. The main cave was lit with chandeliers, the candles flickering like fireflies, and there was a low buzz of voices. The audience was comprised of tangle-folk like themselves, wearing green; a few ragamuckies, in brown, and some diggelucks, dressed, of course, in grey. There was even a handful of lickits, their white robes smelling faintly of vanilla…"

 Each of these groups have different professions. The tangle-folk are herbalists, ragamuckies are cleaners, diggelucks are miners and lickits are cooks. Japegrins are jesters.

In my adult book, Beware ofMen with Moustaches, the clothing is intended to convey something about the person concerned, and also, in a broader sense, the national characteristics of an invented ex-soviet republic. A group of four poets have been invited on a cultural exchange, which, unbeknownst to them, has a more sinister motive, hinted at before they even get there…

"The trouble-maker had very dark hair, very dark eyes and a very dark moustache (as did most of the other men on the plane), and he was wearing an expensive-looking sweater. Something with teeth was appliquéd on the front of it…

 A middle-aged woman with bright pink lipstick spotted the four of them immediately, and arrowed over. She was wearing ludicrously high heels, decorated with what appeared to be barnacles and seaweed. She stopped in front of them and said, “Professor Stevens?”

    “The very same,” replied Steve, lifting his black fedora in the old-fashioned gesture of politeness he had heard was still practised out here, and beaming at her through his beard.

“You are the same as him, but not he?”

“No...”

“No? You are Dr Woodcock, then?”

“I’m Ferris Woodcock,” said Ferris, running his hand through what remained of his hair. This was followed by a covert inspection of his palm to see if any more of it had parted company with his scalp.

“Ah,” said the woman. “I am Ivanka Nikitichna Titovich.”

“Julie,” said Julie, aware that she was staring at the woman’s feet, but unable to stop herself.

“Sybil,” said Sybil. “Can you really walk in those shoes?”

“But of course,” said Ivanka. “In Karetsefia we make best high fashion shoes anywhere. Give case to me.” She seized Sybil’s holdall, and marched off towards the exit…

…the journalist who was to interview Steve and Ferris was already waiting for them. She was wearing a pair of shoes with golden ammonites embedded in the heels.

“Are those fossils real?” asked Sybil immediately.

“Of course,” said the journalist. “They’re pyritised Hildoceras.” She gave Sybil’s lace-ups a contemptuous glance, and turned to Steve. “Professor Stevens, perhaps we go to your room?”

“Er…” Steve looked at Sybil.

“Oh for goodness’ sake,” said Sybil, “I’m sure the woman’s seen underpants before. Probably quite a selection.”

The cakes were divine. There was a strong similarity between shoe design and cake decoration; it was easy to believe that people switched from one profession to another, taking their themes with them as they went. The barnacle and seaweed motif was equally at home in either leather or marzipan.  After lunch they made their way to the university. At two o’clock precisely the students arrived. The girls had clear skins and shining hair and bright innocent eyes, and they all dressed like prostitutes in very short skirts and fishnet tights. The national shoe fetish was much in evidence, with seaweed and starfish as particularly popular motifs. No one paid the girls a second glance, apart from Ferris. The boys’ rebellion against parental values seemed restricted to being clean-shaven; they wore jeans and trainers, and immediately adopted Julie as one of the lads.

There had to be some reason why the girls all felt perfectly safe, dressed the way they were. Ferris glanced at the crucifix, hanging round her neck, and then at her fresh, open face. She was a virgin, he’d have put money on it …Karetsefia was a devout country; the boys could look, but not touch. He suspected it wasn’t just religion keeping them at bay, either – there would be fathers, and brothers, and uncles, and cousins. All intent on revenge, even if the vengeance took two hundred years.

 So dress to impress – your characters on your readers, that is. If what they’re wearing isn’t relevant to the plot of the characterisation, forget it!