A Square is Always a Rhombus, But a Plaid is Not Necessarily a Tartan
by Victoria Criado, Asst. Culture Editor on October 1, 2008 in Culture
The world of haute couture claims that there is always room for plaid during the fall season. It seems to be particularly true this year, with most fashion magazines hailing the brilliance of the pattern, everywhere from shoes and scarves to shirts and coats. It is a timely trend, given the recent death of one of the fashion world’s giants – Jack Weil.
Weil, the man who popularized the “Western” look, passed away this August at the age of 107. Of all his accomplishments, Weil was perhaps best known for his plaids. It is due to his influence that a once-humble fabric, associated primarily with Scottish Highlanders and blue-collar functionality, has now become a fashion icon. It was Weil who first put flannel shirts on the backs of the likes of Elvis, Travolta, Reagan, and Dylan (Reagan preferred blues, while Dylan opted for pink.)
Plaid has a long and debated history. Colloquially, the word is used to describe a wide-range of patterns and fabrics with subtle, but important differences. We can all remember the gentle, yet poignant words of our geometry teachers: a square is always a rhombus, but a rhombus is not always a square. In the same way, in the world of fashion: a tartan is always a plaid, but a plaid is not necessarily a tartan.
This is the distinction, according to the self-proclaimed “tartan collector” Jeffrey Banks, who argues that one cannot begin to appreciate tartan without really knowing what it is. In a CBS interview about Romancing the
Plaid, a new book co-authored by Banks and Doria De La Chapelle, De La Chappelle clarified the important difference: “A tartan plaid, first of all, is Scottish, as opposed to American or English. It’s Scottish.” She then explained that a tartan pattern has to be made up of perfect squares – it can technically be turned 180 degrees and remain exactly the same, whereas a plaid can have stripes that “clearly run in a specific direction.” “Plaid is very organized,” stated De La Chapelle. “It has grids. It’s possible that these grids make you feel organized.”
The “plaid debate” is not a new one. On November 9th, 1909, Allan L. Purves wrote an explicatory letter to the editor of the New York Times. It was titled, “Tartans Not ‘Plaids.’” The author, hailing from early 20th century Brooklyn (coincidentally a current trend spot for Weilian fashion) chastised the mislabeling of tartan for plaid: “I have often wondered why, in the department stores of this city, all tartan cloths, tartans of silk or of any other fabric, are called plaids.” He then expounded: “Plaids are not worn in this country, except on the stage or at the gatherings of Scottish societies or clans, and then, again, a plaid is not necessarily made of tartan; a plaid is simply the mode, style, or manner in which a tartan or any other piece of cloth is worn – that is, across the breast and fastened at the shoulder with a pin or brooch.”
But what is most interesting about plaid or tartan – or both – is its historical significance. According to Purves, the fabric originated in French peasant society and was later adopted by Scottish Highlanders, who “must have reckoned it an improvement to checker the cloth with the most beautiful, though sometimes glaring colors.” The tartans provided an emblem of the different clans of Scotland and were a symbol of rebellion against the English crown – as a consequence, tartan was banned for many years, its use considered an act of treason.
In the midst of this New England autumn, where criss-cross, 90-degree patterns and fabrics will abound, let’s all take a moment to remember that fashion is more than style, and one man’s plaid is another man’s tartan.
(Photo: Property of Albino Black Sheep: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/plaid)
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