What are the logical consequences of the Canadian Tuxedo?
To begin to understand this problem, we must first understand the nature of the Canadian Tuxedo itself. A Canadian Tuxedo is generally agreed to consist of a denim jacket worn with jeans. If there be any disagreement, please make it known. However, whether the Canadian Tuxedo consists simply of the jacket and jeans, or furthermore involves a denim button-down shirt and/or vest, I think the essence of the Canadian Tuxedo should be clear enough.
While the tuxedo analogy may be readily apprehended, what particular Canadianness pertains to a denim jacket/pants combination? It's popularity amongst our northerly neighbors? Is there any evidence that this ensemble is any more popular in Canada than say, in Croatia or even the United States? Based on the evidence of readily visible Canadians--Jim Carrey, Barenaked Ladies, Red Green--such an inductive argument would be hard to make. Even allowing for the proposition that famous Canadians by their famousness represent a group more likely to wear actual tuxedos, the contrary propensity of American-worn Canadian Tuxedos would serve to negate any particular Canadianness.
Perhaps we should consider what we connote when we employ the designation "Canadian." Doug Gibson has made an interesting case for referring to home-schoolers as Canadians. According to Gibson, home-schoolers may be properly be called Canadians because they share with Canadians a certain Otherness. Homeschoolers, like Canadians, possess and exhibit an ineffable Something that sets them apart from familiar society. Canadians possess and exhibit an equally ineffable Something; the nature of the Something does not matter so much as its distinguishing quality and social effect. Put another way, if one cannot put ones finger on what makes a newly-made acquaintance subtly but decidedly different, "He's homeschooled" or "She's Canadian" both confer the same comforting sense of illumination. One interesting facet of Gibson's logic is that, by extension, "Canadian" is a more accurate term for a homeschooler than "homeschooler," since (1) homeschoolers often attend co-ops, play sports for public or private schools, and/or attend community college and are therefore not strictly home-educated and (2) Canadian home-schoolers may, theoretically, exist.
At this juncture, we might conjure a feminine equivalent of the Canadian Tuxedo based on homeschooler attire, something on the order of a
denim jumper worn over a blue denim blouse: the Canadian Evening Gown. This, however, would be fallacious. We must remember that Canadian in this context refers to a very definite Otherness, but not to homeschooledness particularly. This is not to say that a Canadian Evening Gown would not consist of a denim jumper over a denim blouse, only that it would be a logical error to arrive there via the avenue of home-education.
If the Canadian in Canadian Tuxedo only denotes quality
x of Canadians (and homeschoolers),
however, we have made little progress toward understanding why denim is its source material. Consider George Constanza's emphatic insistence that he would drape himself in velvet were it socially acceptable. Now, while the precise social acceptability of draping oneself in velvet is debatable (in fact, a friend of mine once dated a man who draped not only himself, but his entire apartment, in velvet), it is certainly no less subjective than that of draping oneself in denim. If a known degree of social deviance were the essence of Canadian, we might call a Canadian tuxedo any ensemble fashioned of a material whose use falls outside the standard deviation. An outfit consisting of courderoy pants, jacket, and newsboy's hat seems as likely a candidate.
But intuitively we might want to call such a courderoy ensemble a Welsh Priest's Frock and a velvet one a Romanian Spacesuit. We must examine the essence and accidents (attributes) of denim if we are to solve the mystery of the Canadian Tuxedo. Essential to denim is its Americanness. This point cannot be argued. While the rest of the world has adopted its use, it has not adopted denim
qua denim, but denim
qua American Stuff, the denim fiber representing the most elemental of essentially American molecules.
As far as American imitators go, no country competes with Canada. Quebec aside, Canada looks, sounds, sings, drives, and acts American. At least as far as clothing is concerned, nothing is more American than denim. We associate it with the inventiveness of Levi Strauss, the rugged individualism of the Old West, and the too-cool-for-schoolness of James Dean. Therefore, denim represents the standard of perfection if one is to dress American. Yet, in principle, the closer a thing comes to accurately mimicking another thing, the more fraudulent it becomes. An accurately reproduced $1 bill is more fraudulent than a $6 bill of similar quality.
Indeed, one of the pitfalls of imitation is the failure to apprehend the true nature of the thing one imitates. Often, this manifests in an over-achievement. I would argue that the reason we think of a denim-jacket-and-jeans combo as a Canadian Tuxedo lies in the suspicion that the Canadian assumes that more denim means more American. Thus the Canadian, in an attempt to out-American the American, might wear nothing but denim. Furthermore, we suspect that the Canadian confuses the essentiality of denim with its transcendence. That is, the Canadian confuses the primacy of denim in the hierarchy of Americaness with a sort of primacy of in the hierarchy of classiness. Thus, it comprises his Tuxedo.
Of course, we Americans know that denim is elemental to our couture, but it is not its totality. It is also not the most noble of materials; in fact, I would argue that we are comfortable with that notion as a reflection of our culture at large, but that is a topic for another time. What is important is that we estimate the Canadian's fashion sense to be such that a preponderance of denim would join the apices of Americanism and fashion. This, I surmise, is why we refer to the denim jacket and jeans as a Canadian Tuxedo. It also suggests why Americans wear Canadian Tuxedos at least as often as Canadians; it simply represents a failure to grasp--due to hickness, fuddy-duddiness, or even homeschooledness--the nature of denim as it pertains to America and its locus on the hierarchy of couture material.
When I got there at around 11pm, the line was about 100 deep. TABC had made a surprise visit and was hanging around to make sure only adults got free adult beverages. Friday night got rolling with American Bang, a Nashville band so good I broke the promise I'd made to myself that if I ever found myself at a show where a dude in a band rocked shirtless, I'd leave on principle. No, I stayed, and American Bang reminded me of just how much of a good time a good-natured, no-frills rock concert can be. Between shows I met the singer from Delta Spirit whilst talking to some Red Bull friends.
the most agreeable people on earth, and by golly, the Shackeltons didn't disappoint. Adding to the greatness of the music was the ecstatic, trembling performance of singer Mark Redding. He spent half the show bouncing around on the precariously tipsy subwoofers that stood immediately in front of the stage - talk about tension. They held, though, and at one point he reached out and shook my hand.
