I was recently asked to review Robert Covolo’s Fashion Theology for Ad Fontes. The book was a dense but fascinating read, an intersection of two of my favorite topics. If you find this preview intriguing, read the whole article here.
Fashion Theology: A Review
That the earliest fashion critics were theologians will probably come as a surprise to the average Christian and the average fashionista alike. Far from being estranged disciplines, fashion and theology have grown up together, their interests and incentives intertwined. The theologians who shaped Christian thought over the centuries often had much to say about the meaning of our attire.
In Fashion Theology (Baylor University Press), Robert Covolo becomes the first to map out this colorful, tumultuous conversation between theology and fashion. A subject this neglected necessitates covering quite a lot of ground, and although Covolo’s book comes in at little over a hundred pages, it is highly condensed, supported by nearly sixty pages of footnotes, and spans the nearly two millennia that lie between Tertullian calling for headcoverings for women “as the Devil’s gateway”, and “The Devil Wears Prada.” Like a detective looking at different “crime scenes,” Covolo proceeds from one fashion-theology intersection to the next: examining evidence, presenting overlooked conversations, “mutual investments, conflicting interests, and hotly contested terrain.” (2) The five intersections Covolo explores are fashion theology as tradition, as reform, as public discourse, as art, and as everyday drama. For each intersection, Covolo invites us into dialogue with theologians as they wrestled with questions around Christian dress. Should Christians dress to reflect the glory of man or the fallenness of man? Is clothing an unnecessary luxury or a good gift to be enjoyed? To what extent should dress reflect social hierarchies?
Tertullian had much to say on dress, his fashion theology focusing largely on the importance of affirming nature. For Tertullian, “whatever is born is the work of God. Whatever, then, is plastered on is the devil’s work.” Having introduced sin into the world, women should therefore dress in a “garb of penitence.” (5) Dyed fabrics were an aberration against nature, as God never made “sheep to be born with purple and sky-blue fleeces.” Man’s desire to seek glory through clothing reflects “the devil’s own inordinate lust for undue glory.” (6) Further, Tertullian saw uniformity of custom as being the only way to achieve unity within a rapidly growing church. Tertullian’s energy as a fashion theorist was therefore directed toward fashion prescriptions for all Christians. (If Tertullian’s fashion theology had taken hold, it’s very likely that head-coverings would have become normative for Christian women.)
Fortunately, Augustine’s moderation and desire for synthesis won the day over Tertullian’s totalizing instinct. Augustine originated the now oft-repeated maxim that Christians should “plunder the Egyptians,” taking whatever was beautiful and good from pagan literature, culture, and of course, fashion. Augustine was cosmopolitan by birth and education, and this no doubt shaped his understanding that fashions will vary by time and place. Augustine understood that the language of fashion is semiotics, and that the coded meanings in dress are actually necessary for society to operate smoothly. For Augustine, “…there are useful and necessary institutions, established with men by men; such things as the conventional differences in dress and in bodily ornament, designed to distinguish sex or rank, and countless kinds of coded meanings without which society would function less smoothly, or not at all….” (10) Christians should therefore, as participants in society, ought to study and “commit to memory” the fashion prescriptions of their particular context. Covolo says, “Augustine, having been credited with playing a seminal role in fields such as autobiography and phenomenology, adds yet another title to his credentials: father of fashion theory.” (10)