While my renown for legal fashion here in the states is legend, I’m at a loss about the bare necessities across the pond.  This leaves me little choice but to turn to my barrister colleague, Geeklawyer, who appears to have gotten himself into a bit of a fashion faux pas recently.  If this can happen to GL, then no one is safe.

Geeklawyer was in the High Court last week on matter which was a sad little business – the capitulation of a noble claimant in a valiant, doomed, but worthy cause. He trolled into Court X intending to stand before Mr Justice Hearditallbefore and wave the white flag with whatever dignity his punter could manage, which was, to be frank, not much. Now the rule is, in the Courts where Geeklawyer normally hunts, that wigs are only for trials and not interim matters. And you can guess where this one goes: to his horror all the other counsel – the regular boys, LJ Hearditallbefore’s little posse – were all in full circus outfits. Wigs. Gowns. Bands. The fucking works. What to do? Well naturally a man of honour would ‘fess up to the judge and hope for the best. Geeklawyer did the only thing a man such as he could do:

‘My Lord I am improperly dressed because a pack of feral Solicitor-Inadequates attacked me at the Strand entrance of this Court so as to steal my wig. My Lord, they fled with it and my gown and bands while yelling “We has the precious. We has it, is ours. We wants it, we needs it.” My Lord I assembled a hunting pack of Barristers and we gave chase up Chancery Lane and as far as Holborn Tube but they eluded us.’

Mercifully the otherwise crusty LJ Hearditallbefore was a decent old codger and fell for it hook line and sinker. Even Geeklawyer’s utterly bollocks arguments about the necessity of a detailed costs hearing on a one day matter were allowed comiseratory passage.

What’s amazing is that he writes, even curses, with a British accent.  But what comes clearly through is that there are three important aspects of the Barrister’s attire that GL somehow left behind in his presumptively casual approach to “My Lord.”  And if you thought calling a judge “yer honor” was a bit much, you could choke before “my lord” came out of your mouth.

The Wig
The Gown
The Bands

It had been my understanding that the formal attire for a barrister had been dropped in favor of the more standard business suit.  Apparently, the death of the wig was greatly exaggerated.  Apparently, GL was as clueless as I would have been.  But his facile tongue went into action and saved the day.

In the olden days, when lawyers in the colonies wore white shirts and suits to work regardless of what they had on the docket that day, the emergency call to appear before a judge presented nothing more than a momentary annoyance.  Sure, it interfered with your appointments, but presented no sartorial issues.  We were, always, appropriately dressed.

Times, unfortunately, have since changed, and many lawyers show up in the office in more casual dress.  Forget white shirts, which are largely saved for weddings and funerals, but suits have given way to slacks and, if you’re of a certain age, a sports jacket (now called a blazer).  Some prefer blue jeans and flip flops.

Many of us keep a suit, shirt and tie in the closet in case of emergency.  This was a great idea for younger lawyers, but I found a problem when last I was compelled to change for an unplanned court appearance.  The suit were present and pressed, but hadn’t been worn in over a decade.  As suits will do over long periods of time, it shrunk.  Significantly.  To the point where blood flow was impossible.  Note: Try on your closet suit every few years, just in case.

Our British brothers have it easy.  Rather than require a full body’s worth of clothing, they need only three items.  The wig, which compensates for a bad hair day, seems so inherently ratty as to make concern over its appearance pointless.  The gown, which by definition is ill-fitting, can hang in the closet forever without presenting risk of serious injury.

But what about these “bands”?  From what I understand, the bands are the two strips of fabric that drop from the winged collar that is choking the life out of poor Rumpole.  They are reminiscent of the jabot favored by the former Associate Justice, Sandra Day O’Connor. 

Whereas Justice O’Connor’s fashion sense was grounded in the lack of any other appropriate option for a woman wearing a black gown, though I always thought a turtleneck would look fabulous, the purpose of the bands eludes me.  Beyond pure foppery, they are utterly pointless.

Worse yet, the bands, which replace the tie worn by modern man, are bland.  Sure, white makes choosing which band matches which gown easy, but is there no room for a little individuality? 

The fact that Geeklawyer committed the sin of walking into the courtroom without the appropriate attire for a barrister of his great importance is unfortunate.  The fact that “my lord” bought his cockamamie story, as if feral Solicitor-Inadequates would have any need of his ratty old stuff is ridiculous.

But should any American “barrister” have reason to appear before some “lord” over there, there is one bit of information that should be taken to heart. 

Geeklawyer was rumbled by one local hack who, unconvinced even for a split second, whispered:

“Never mind all that bollocks – if you are after me I’ll lend you my wig.“

This cameraderie mutual respect and brotherly support is what lies at the heart of the English Bar. Geeklawyer declined the offer because the pathetic wreck was a criminal barrister: with Legal Aid what it is he probably couldn’t afford to wash his hair from one month to the next and probably had lice; “No thanks my dear chap, terribly grateful but I’ll wing it before the old buffer.” What’s a brother to do? eh?

Pass on the borrowed wig, notwithstanding Geeklawyer’s antipathy toward legal aid.  Of course, GL is a very particular fellow, so careful about those with whom he associates that he won’t even put me on his blogroll (though he’s got Bennett and that corporate tool Dan Hull prominently displayed there).  So don’t take his slur on legal aid to heart.  It’s likely just the typical British lawyer’s pathological fear of head lice.