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Portia Berry-Kilby• January 21, 2025
Pope Francis is well known for shunning the glitz and the glam that goes with the office of Pope. But, in case there was any doubt, he doubled down on this stance in his recent autobiography “Hope”. His comments on how he prefers his orthopaedic footwear to the iconic papal red shoes much favoured by Pope Benedict XVI made the Catholic news headlines last week. In a similar vein, in his autobiography, the Pope reflects, “I didn’t want the velvet mozzetta, nor the linen rochet…They were not for me. Two days later they told me I would have to change my trousers, wear white ones. They made me laugh. ‘I don’t want to be an ice-cream seller,’ I said. And I kept my own.”
Pope Francis’ views on dress run deeper than a simple matter of personal preference that stops with his reflection in the mirror. He is renowned for his derision of elaborate clerical dress, particularly “elegant and costly tailoring, lace, fancy trimmings, rochets”, as he writes in Hope.
The Pope’s views on clerical dress serve as an extension of his dislike of the Traditional Latin Mass and all that goes with it. He scolds what he perceives as the “rigidity” of the affection for the Old Rite. He also posits that the elaborate clerical dress is “not a taste for tradition but clerical ostentation, which then is none other than an ecclesiastic version of individualism”. He adds that this is “not a return to the sacred but to quite the opposite, to sectarian worldliness”.
And yet, when it comes to the faithful attending Mass on Sundays, perhaps we might benefit from a call to more lace and elegance, not less.
For better and worse, the days of reserving an outfit for Sunday Best are bygone. But rather than wear our decent clothes all week long, our culture tends to dress up during the week for work, then dress down on weekends. Or, in the wake of work from home culture that permits laptops in bed and bedhead zoom calls, “loungewear” makes an appearance at all hours, erasing the distinction between day and night clothes in too many wardrobes. These cultural shifts mean the drab and dull, not the fine and fancy, fill the pews.
I will spare the reader my rant against “athleisure wear”, but ask them to consider the clothes they don to attend what Pope John Paul II described as “Heaven on Earth”.
The Sacrifice of the Holy Mass is the pinnacle of our weeks, whether we fully register its significance or not. The idea that our external presentation should reflect the gravity of the occasion isn’t merely some fuddy-duddy opinion, but the teaching of the Church. The Catechism of the Catholic Church outlines that “bodily demeanour (gestures, clothing) ought to convey the respect, solemnity, and joy of this moment when Christ becomes our guest” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1387).
Form and function are undoubtedly entwined; there is a reason we don’t wear pyjamas to a wedding. Much like a suit can focus the mind ahead of a business meeting, good clothes can help set our mental mood ahead of Mass. If we’re dressing as though Mass matters — rather than simply another task to check off our ever-growing to-do lists — we might just start to believe in its importance.
We could do more to reflect the importance of the occasion we attend on a Sunday, without making an idol of the latest fashions and succumbing to “sectarian worldliness”. Clean and tidy clothes should trump dirty and ripped, and if we’d make more effort to meet up with a friend for coffee, we’re possibly not dressing for the respect, solemnity and joy the Mass deserves.
With the exception of the importance of modesty, there’s little gained by being overly prescriptive in what constitutes appropriate attire — individual styles differ, after all. And even when considering modesty, there’s a fair amount of room for interpretation. Given that modesty discourse can divide more than unite, all I will say on the topic is this: when I attend a Traditional Latin Mass, most women wear skirts or dresses that fall below the knee, with very modest tops. Not only do such women look elegant, I’d argue there’s a greater sense of community fostered by women and girls adopting similar clothing choices. Much like how a uniform fosters a shared identity, being on the same page about dressing for Mass helps one feel part of a group.
Regardless of hemline, however, seeing others around you dress well for Mass reinforces the idea that you’re attending something special.
So, this coming Sunday, why not polish your shoes, don an accessory, and switch your jeans for chinos or joggers for a dress? The worst thing that could happen is you end up looking like an ice-cream seller. And that’s surely not so bad, after all.