I didn’t realize how neglectful I had been about keeping abreast of British legal fashion until I read that they were doing away with wigs at Lowering the Bar.  Since I’ve always epitomized cutting edge fashion (yes, seersucker is classic summer wear), I couldn’t let this pass without note.

Itchy?  Perhaps, but it wasn’t entirely without purpose.  The trappings that have long characterized the British barristers and judges were not mere anachronisms, flying in the face of American egalitarianism by their air of nobility and recall of the days of titles and landed gentry.  Wigs and robes were a mechanism to separate the world inside the courtroom from the world outside. 

Just as some American courtrooms are huge, heavy and overbearing, all intended to provide a physical manifestation of the Majesty of the Law, and inspire just enough awe to keep witnesses, defendants and their lawyers in line, the Brits added an extra couple of punches by the wigs and robes.  Notice that our judges kept the robes for themselves.

Before turning too serious, it is important to note that the argument for keeping the wigs was that they lended an air of authority and anonymity.  The best line in the piece was “anyone whose ‘anonymity’ is preserved by wearing a wig probably isn’t wearing it right.”  At least they didn’t modernize by adding hair extensions.

But bringing wigs to the front burner made me wonder, why didn’t American lawyers follow suit with the Brits?  First, the absence of wigs and robes means that we have to give thought to what we wear to court every day, and we all know what a pain that can be (does this tie match?).  Second, the whole wig issue relates only to barristers, raising the barrister/solicitor distinction. 

Personally, I like the idea of wigs and robes in the courtroom.  In my time in the trenches, I’ve watched lawyer attire go from formal to comfortable, with men wearing blazers and women in capri pants.  Suits are often in need of a pressing, and black sneakers have substituted for wingtips. And let’s not even touch the way some defendants dress for court, with their pants hanging somewhere slightly above their knees.  It didn’t happen all at once, but little by little we followed the popular mode of dress down the slippery slope of casuality.  It was a mistake.

What we do in courtroom is serious.  What happens to our clients in courtrooms is serious.  It is inappropriate for us, the lawyers, to appear as if comfort or fashion trumps the lives that are at stake.  The atmosphere for all the players in the room should maintain that level of seriousness.  It reflects an attitude that we are all having a jolly time coming to court, and that our concerns are as casual as our attire.  More significantly, the impact of our presence before a judge, when we are dressed casually, is very different than when we stand up in a dark suit.  The latter gives an impression of gravitas.  The former gives the impression that we don’t really care.

If I had to wear an itchy wig, I would likely fall on the side of tossing such archaic trappings in the trash.  But the purpose and benefit of wearing unusual and formal attire in the courtroom has merit.  I still wear the white shirt and dark suit (properly pressed) and real shoes to court.  It is my purpose to let my client, the prosecutor and the judge know that I am serious about what I do, and I intend to be taken seriously.  Impressions matter.  While I’m hardly alone, I do not reflect the majority view.  Upon reflection of the trend, the idea of robes, and even wigs, makes increasing sense to me. 

And while we’re on the topic, the lack of the barrister/solicitor distinction has become an increasing cause for concern.  In the public’s mind, lawyers are fungible.  But as lawyers well know, some of us try cases and some sit behind desks pontificating to clients who couldn’t possibly distinguish knowledgeable advice from pap.  While each serves a purpose, you wouldn’t want to have your life on the line with a lawyer who has no clue how to ask a question or make an objection. 

Watching a lawyer in a courtroom who clearly has neither the experience nor skills to be there is worse than a painful experience. It is dangerous.  I often have greater concern for the harm that will be done to my client by co-counsel than by the prosecution.  I’ve always got my eye on the other table, but it’s far too easy to be stabbed in the back by another defense lawyer.  More on this another day, but I have long believed that lawyers who can’t try a case have no business being allowed into a courtroom.  This isn’t a game to prove to Mom that her money was well-spent on law school  What we do impacts the lives of real people, and if you’re not up to it, stay away.  Being a lawyer just isn’t a good enough reason to allow someone to try a case, even if they’re wearing a wig.