One of my teachers, I'm not sure which – or maybe an “instructor” if it was in college - once told me that there's no reason for a woman's skirt to come up above her knees, because everyone's knees are ugly. The same could be true, I suppose, for ankles, and even a man's neck. The Adam's Apple, like the other aforementioned joints, is lumpy in a mashed-potatoey sort of way instead of angular and bulgy like a sports car or fitness enthusiast, or even delightfully rounded like Pillbury's mascot, or maybe certain aspects of my own physique.
It is this lumpiness that dictates that the hierarchy of men's fashion is built around covering the neck. To start at the top, or most formal, we have the tuxedo with bow-tie. It's the most formal because James Bond wears it, and he could kill you. Then mixed in amongst the various medals of silver and bronze and trophies for participants are standard neckties, aviator's scarves, ascots, plain ol' collared shirts, hipster's neckerchiefs, and polos. How much of the neck they cover, and of course the context in which they're worn, determines how formal they may or may not be, but the fact remains that if you're going to the courthouse, a funeral, a wedding or grandma's house it's a welcome gesture to not go in bare-necked.
You'll notice that turtlenecks are conspicuously absent from the above list because though they do cover the neck, they simply don't belong in the same class of sartorial formality as England's top super spy or high flying Lucky Lindy.
“Why is that?” you ask in a snide and nasally voice disagreeable to dogs, children and the elderly. Well, for starters, turtlenecks have more in common with a slinky than hundreds of years of conservative Occidental fashion. The excess neck cloth protrudes awkwardly from the collar of an otherwise agreeable sweater like an afterthought, perfunctorily claiming some sort of formality while sitting upright, waiting to be toppled over. Steve Jobs is selling millions of Apple branded doohickeys, but if that style averse man could top his jeans and tennis shoes with even an untucked Oxford shirt, I'm sure that number would be in the billions.
And where as Jobs shamelessly dons his high-necked garments by themselves, it's when the turtleneck is combined with a jacket of sport-coat that true tragedy strikes. Wearing a sport-coat over a turtleneck is about as classy as a tuxedo t-shirt while performing a bris. On paper the logic seems sound enough: formal outerwear + covered neck = ohhh yeah. But in execution we see that merely clothing ones neck is not enough, even when combined with a vest, suit jacket, or most lamentably, a sweater vest, which gets its own rant another time.
And yet I know that sadly this diatribe won't change anything. When Steve Jobs debuts the iSoul it will be in his trademark garb, and when some well intentioned school principal gets dolled up for parent-teacher night it will be in penny loafers, patterned slacks, a sport-coat and you-know-what. And so, I'm willing to meet the turtleneckers halfway, sort of. A turtleneck embodies the want to be classy, just like a coupon proves someone wants to save money, so for those who continue to insist that turtlenecks have class I'll give you the cash value of your intent. Henceforth, a turtleneck will be worth 1/100th of a Double Windsor knotted tie, a generous offer for a hideous look so richly deserving to be euthanized.
