Little white gloves

Mickey Mouse wore them. Jackie O wore them. In the 1950s everybody wore them. But why would you? What a hassle.

Some epochs it’s our cleavage that’s the problem, sometimes our ankles, maybe the naked back of the neck, or just the modestly clothed evidence that we actually have

Witch, letting her hair down.
Photo credit: Routledge Textbooks

 two legs. Two legs?? (faints). And in olden times, and/or olden places, word has it that women should cover up their hair, to be civilised. 

Their savage, sensual, you’re-a-bad-influence-on-me hair. Put it away ladies, you might wreck the ships at sea!

Somehow for a while there our hands were just as dangerous. Or was there something else going on? I don’t even own a white shirt, myself – five minutes and I’d spill something on it. White gloves would be impossible. But I suppose that must have been the point: got work to do? Nope. Lady of leisure. So poor you have to cook your own meals? Nope. Servants. Any reason you might have touched a door handle lately? A key? Money? A toilet brush? Nope. Rich and privileged. Someone else does all the dumb stuff for me.

Photo credit: Stanley Kubrick

And that’s how gloves stay white.

As a symbol of status and prestige little white gloves are a fairly high-viz message. And if the mob don’t notice you’re the elite, well you only have to wave at them. Job done!

I think it’s high time we brought them back. That way we can all see at a glance who’s willing to get their hands dirty and do the hard work that needs to be done, in this Difficult Age. But this time, let’s not let the ones with the nice white gloves on be in charge. There’s not much they’re capable of contributing, I know. But we could all use a hand with the dumb stuff.