No chic, no jackets, no $250 caviar appetizers
Call it the influence of television’s “Downton Abby.” Or “The Gilded Age.” Or “Bridgerton.” Whatever the cause, some people are starting to dress for dinner again.
According to published reports, restaurants in a few cities have returned to dress codes that go well beyond “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service.”
“Blue jeans, shorts and sneakers are strictly prohibited,” at a restaurant in Manhattan that serves $250 caviar appetizers followed by unpronounceable entrees such as Millefeuille de Foie Gras de Canard. And “absolutely no flip-flops.” (For men who left their sport coats at home, Yves Saint Laurent jackets will be provided.)
“Upscale fashionable dress code strongly enforced,” a Los Angeles restaurant warns. “We expect our guests to bring their best,” a restaurant in Chicago declares. For an increasing number of restaurants, it’s jackets for men and “smart, casual or better” for women. Whatever that means. I’m still haven’t figured out what “casual chic” means.
A restaurant in Houston even refuses service to customers wearing clothes that emit “offensive odors.” I don’t know what kind of odors they’re talking about, but I’m pretty sure anyone emitting them probably would only need a table for one.
The budding dress code revival is not without issues.
To an untucked, shredded-jeans, flip flop-wearing generation, it may sound like a return to a stuffy, pretentious era when women wore white gloves and dresses to luncheons and men wore coats, ties and hats (not caps) to baseball games. And who gets to say what’s fashionable and what isn’t? Why are $450 Air Jordan’s unacceptable, but a $29.99 pair of loafers from Kohl’s are OK?
So far, this revival is more of a big city ripple than a tidal wave likely to trickle down soon to our neighborhood Applebee’s. But I’m encouraged by it.
Because sometimes there are special occasions — a prom, a birthday, an anniversary, a romantic dinner — that call for a special meal at a place where dining out means actually going inside instead of idling in the drivethru lane. A restaurant with white tablecloths, napkins that aren’t made of paper and servers who don’t address customers as “you guys.” It’s hard to have a romantic dinner when the table next to you is filled with customers wearing sleeveless undershirts that show off their tattoos, their muscles and their hairy armpits. (Maybe that’s my own bias, though, because I don’t have any of those things.)
And sometimes dressing up is a small price to pay for making a special occasion feel truly special. So I’m hoping just a little bit of that big city ripple eventually will reach my small city.
But the $250 caviar appetizers can stay where they are.