Reading a story about a fellow who contends that he’s been the victim of discrimination by employers who refuse to hire him because he’s covered with tatoos, an argument that brings a reflexive chuckle for me, I thought about the appearance of defendants in court.

I recall going to trial with a defendant from New Jersey.  I instructed him how to dress (as is my way) before the jury.  My client, electing to ignore my instructions, or really to improve upon them in his own fashion, showed up for trial wearing what can best be described as a 1970s velvet orange pimp suit, complete with wide-brimmed hat.  He looked like Huggy Bear from Starsky & Hutch.  If he wasn’t my client, it would have been hysterical.  Alas, he was mine.

My sensitivity to clients’ attire began with a CCE case in Anchorage Alaska many years ago.  I came out from New York with my client’s wife, who was told to bring him clothing to wear in court.  My being young and inexperienced, I offered no specifics on what she should bring.  I left it up to her.

When we arrived at the jail in Anchorage, I pulled the clothing out of a bag.  It included some sort of silk black pantaloons.  A black silk shiny shirt and very pointy toed shows with metal toes.  If he was dressing to be Salsa King, he would have been perfect.  For court in Alaska, it was a bit much. 

When we appeared in court later that day, the Judge expressed “outrage” at the insult to him demonstrated by the defendant’s attire.  I explained that these were the defendant’s finest clothes, and while not of the taste that one would ordinarily pick for court, it was a sign of utmost respect by the defendant, no matter how tacky and inappropriate it was.  He bought it and we dodged the bullet. 

Today, I regularly see defendants show up for court in pants down below the hips, open shirts.  I see defendants and family with tatoos and piercings. Sometimes many piercings, and in unusual places.  I see defendants with huge flashy necklaces and diamond encrusted watches.  And their attorneys try to argue what normal, law-abiding, hard-working, average citizens they are. 

A few years ago, the phrase “dress for success” was the mantra of young entrepreneurs.  What is the message these defendants are sending the judge by their appearance?  Of course, when those tough, young defendants who swaggered their way into the courtroom walk out later all weepy and teary eyed like a little baby, sniffling and crying because they aren’t going to be nearly as cool in Rikers as they were on 125th Street, their choice in clothing and appearance strikes an interesting contrast.