by Young
“On the other spectrum, unreasonable disagreements happen frequently. One irrational normative dispute is the rejection of the moral equality between races. Someone who forthrightly affirms that Middle Easterners are more morally crucial than Caucasians probably cannot hold his/her position with adequate reflection, honesty, and goodwill. It is easy to imagine someone from a previous period in human history who thought as much, but nowadays such a belief cannot survive adequate rational scrutiny, nor is the notion compatible with possessing a moral character,” the professor advised.
He paused before he professed, “Unreasonable empirical disagreements are more common, such as advancing family ties and fanatical religious beliefs. No adequately informed person can firmly believe that the above-mentioned holds truth when confronted with evidence.
“As I’ve noted, the identification of reasonable disagreements is difficult. Due to our cognitive biases and our limited means of determining why others advocate their positions. Consequently, we tend to deduce that our adversary holds his/her belief because of some culpable failure/failures on his or her part. It is a failure of reflectiveness, information collection, and/or a fundamental insensitivity to underlying moral value. Yet, our cognitive limitations and biases will lead us to overestimate the frequency of unreasonable disagreements. Therefore, we should resist the temptation to condemn others for their differences.”
Three Steps in Reasonable Disagreements
Before Curt Eberhardt curtailed that morning’s tutorial, he stated, “I’d like to finish today’s lesson by explaining how you can recognize a reasonable disagreement when one presents itself. Imagine that you find yourself in a moral or political dispute with another and you regard the conflict as unreasonable (on their part). There are three valuable facts to reflect upon.
Number one: your cognitive limitations are significant and are likely to affect your judgment that your opposer has made a culpable error in defending his/her position. Although, it is tough to know why people believe what they reckon; take a moment to pause and reflect on your biases and limitations, and how it could hamper your judgment.
Secondly: ask yourself whether you have enough information and have engaged sufficiently in your reflection about the mental state of your interlocutor. Is he/she rational and reasonable in his/her supposition? If you have trouble with your discernment, apply the principle of charity and assume that the discrepancy is due to non-culpable factors.
Last and certainly not least: act on the principle of charity with honesty and respectfulness. Strive to verify if the other person has useful information to support his/her arguments and if he/she is prepared to take your opinions and rationalizations seriously. If your interlocutor has flawed details or patently uses erroneous assumptions, then it is an affirmative confirmation that the disagreement cannot persist with reasonable people. Whereby, your opponent’s estimation can be dismissed.”
Our instructor’s closing statement was, and I quote:
“If people followed this logical procedure during their moral, religious, and/or political disagreements, you’d discover that you had underestimated the frequency of reasonable disputes. Each of us is within our bubble of information and experience, and so are those with whom we disagree. Unless you break through these cognitive barriers, it is impossible to understand our adversary’s point of view. Yet the first thing we do is contemptuously impugn their motives, rationality, and their intelligence. This is dangerously unwarranted.”
The New Look (Chapter Fifty)
“SUDDENLY, Christian Dior arrived, and overnight we all adopted his New Look.”
Bettina Ballard
(Vogue editor)
December 1968
The Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A), London. England
Andy and I were back in Uncle James’ townhouse over the Christmas and New Year Holidays. The thoughtful Mr. Pinkerton, who knew my pertinacious love for fashion, had arranged with his friend, Ms. Joanne Brogden, to give us a guided tour of a special Post-War Paris Fashion exhibition. The presentation was held at the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A), and our guided visit was a belated birthday gift from my beloved uncle. Not only was Ms. Brogden, an accomplished Fashion professor, she was also the newly appointed Head of Fashion at the Royal College of Art (RCA), London.
I was beside myself, on the day of our museum sojourn. I had to select the perfect outfit for the meeting. While Uncle James looked on with amusement as I dressed; my chaperone was exasperated with my fastidiousness.
Andy remarked miffily, “Young, you’re going to view a fashion exhibition. You’re not an exhibit. You don’t have to fuss over the way you look.”
James said wittily, “Andy, you never know who you’re going to meet. After all this lad plans to be a part of a new wave of fashion designers and an impressive appearance can often lead to impactful outcomes. He should dress the part to impress Ms. Brogden. She might be his future mentor.”
James Pinkerton’s prediction did ring true. In 1973 when I entered the RCA to pursue my postgraduate Fashion studies, Professor Brogden became my Fashion mentor. But then in late 1968, I was merely my debonairly self, where fashion was and still is the quintessence of my being.
Upon arrival, we were greeted by a tall, good-looking gentleman at the grand museum foyer. He introduced himself as Élan Coleridge, an RCA Fashion educator.
“Professor Brogden is called away on urgent business when she was about to come to meet you. She asked me to be your guide. I hope you will not be disaffected by my presence,” Élan quipped friendlily.
Not only was Coleridge tall and handsome, but he also reminded me of my Italian photographer friend and mentor, Mario. A classic aquiline nose sat atop of Élan’s striking features, and his sturdy physique lends an authoritative air to the man I took too immediately.
He led us into the large hall before he began, “When Paris was liberated in 1944, the city was on its knees. But within a decade, it had regained its status as the world capital of style, romance, and allure. When I was in Paris in 1947; much of the city was still infected by its war-weary shabbiness. It cast a sad shadow over the grandeur of this ancient metropolis I’d encountered as an adolescent before the war. Although the mood on the streets and the streets themselves had improved. The startling difference was the city’s reputation.”
As we browsed through the Paris Post World War II photographic images, my uncle opined, “Post World War II France was broke. A sixth of all the buildings were dilapidated and its economy on its knees. The decades of neglect were painfully obvious. Smoke-blackened stone facades, cracked stuccos, and peeling paintworks were prevalent. I was there in 1945 after Paris was liberated but sadden by its population. They were close to starvation, and the disparity between the beaux quartiers and working-class districts were in abundance. Yet a handful of wealthy Parisians, diplomats, and visitors lived in luxury. The black market was in full swing, but everyone did whatever they could to scrape by.”
James sighed and shook his head before he added, “I felt there was a collective sense of shame that the country rolled over without a fight to the Nazis. There was also a settling of old scores, and the most visible was the meting out of summary justice where collaborators were executed or having their heads shaved. Locals staged public protests like heartening celebrations.”
Élan expressed, “I was there when Christian Dior unveiled the New Look. France was in wartime scarcities. There were coal shortages, and electricity was rationed. For the ordinary Parisian their daily circumstances were not much better than they were during the war. Paris was also paralyzed by workers’ strikes. The cost of living was astronomical, and food scarcity was acute. Corroded by years of German occupation, Parisians were blanketed by cynicism and futility. I sensed their apathy and bitterness.”
As we proceeded down the exhibition hall, the educator resumed, “At the ateliers, afternoon showings were a handful of wealthy socialites; members of the diplomatic set; well-to-do tourists, and num
erous disciples of the ‘international society.’
“The models were scrawny and petulant looking. One couturier made it a point to feed his models. ‘I want them to look like human beings, not skeletons,’ he said before he added sanguinely. ‘And, if they have enough to eat, perhaps they’ll smile.’”
James said regrettably, “During those post-war years, the Parisian sun never seemed to rise, and the winter sky resembled a lid of iron graying the skin of my hands and making my face wan. There were few cars on the streets with the occasional truck running on wood-burning engines, and aging women on old bicycles. The heavy silence made Paris a doomed city. If I’m not mistaken, food rationing lasted until 1949. As a foreign resident, I had to queue outside the town hall to obtain coupons for everything; from food to clothes.”
Coleridge announced, “I returned to Paris for the 1949 winter collections when the tenseness finally took a turn for the better; amidst some bitter strikes in the Parisian dressmaking industry.”
“How did fashion transform the city’s tension?” I queried.
“Fashion was what pre-war Paris was synonymous with. The garment sector employs some thirteen thousand skilled artisans in highly specialized workshops. The Nazis failed miserably to move the industry to Germany. France was desperately short of foreign currency, and wealthy overseas women, especially Americans, were more than happy to pay a fortune for their clothes. You see, Young, couture is a high-profile and exportable manifestation of l’art de vivre for which France stood,” the Fashion professor counseled.
He continued, “Shortly after the liberation of Paris, Lucien Lelong, Robert Ricci, and a group of French artists and designers developed a plan for Paris to recapture its position as the world capital of haute couture. They created a hundred and seventy figures, each a third the size of a real person. These were used to display the first post-war Paris collections; complete with jewelry, designed to scale by Boucheron, Cartier and Van Cleef. The dolls are shown in le Petit Théâtre de la Mode, aptly translated as a miniature theatre, with sets designed and constructed by the likes of Jean Cocteau and Christian Bérard.
“The little couture show opened at the Louvre in March of 1945, and immediately attracted more than one hundred thousand visitors, and raised a million francs for the French war relief fund. That year, it also showcased in Barcelona, London, Leeds, Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Vienna before crossing the Atlantic to New York and San Francisco in 1946. In December 1945, the devaluation of the franc acted as a powerful incentive for tourists and buyers to travel and splash out in France. Buying couture had never been so reasonable!”
We finally arrived at the haute couture fashion display of post-war Paris.
I questioned, “Why did it take two years after the Paris liberation for Christian Dior’s New look to happen?”
“Young man, things don’t change overnight. It takes time for the spirit of change to gain momentum,” Uncle James declared.
We checked out the beautiful garment displays encased in glass containers when Élan recalled, “The lead up to Dior’s first collection in the spring of 1947 was chaotic. He had an insufficient workspace, and his inexperienced staff had to use the corridors and stairs to travail. One of the designer’s key models passed out at a fitting while a workroom staff collapsed under stress. Despite that, the excitement carried over into the show.”
Coleridge paused to remember, “At the time, I was a young Fashion intern, and that show’s tension was electrifying. I had goosebumps when the first model came on the runway. Her flared skirt swirled like an open umbrella within the packed room and knocked over ashtrays. That brought the audience to the edges of their seats. After several ensembles, I had a premonition that I was witnessing a unique moment in the evolution of fashion.”
The professor pointed to a beautifully attired mannequin before he advocated, “The New Look is a reprise of mid-nineteenth century fashions with billowing skirts that nipped-in below the waists. It was a dramatic departure from the frugal and angular broad-shouldered military-like uniforms of wartime fashions. Dior’s New Look was uncompromising. It necessitated intricate workmanship and sewing techniques that had disappeared during the war. Notable undergarments were engineered to create the curvaceous silhouette.”
My chaperone, who had thus far remained silent, remarked, “It was indeed a triumph for Christian Dior. I’d read old press coverage about the New Look, and it heralded the beginning of a renaissance for French couture. The wealthy elite and fashion editors from around the world loved it. The article also noted that those who cannot afford it aspired to it. The New look was a must-have.”
“That is correct, Andy. Suddenly, Dior arrived and became an overnight success. Women around the world embraced his New Look; even when it was difficult to buy materials in quantities to copy the style. Then, there were major fashion differences between the cities and the country folks, who ridiculed the city-dwellers for their extravagance,” Élan sniggered.
When our tour finally ended, Professor Coleridge said, “As you can see from the exhibits, the New Look was not only controversial, it also stirred a riot in a Montmartre street market.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Dior’s clothes were dispatched to Montmartre in large wooden crates on board a camionette. The models changed in the back room of a nearby bar. When the first mannequin walked onto the rue Lepic market, the street went silent. A stall keeper shouted insults of outrage and hurled herself on the model. Other women followed her lead and attacked the poor girl. They tore at her clothes and hair. The other models retreated hastily back to the safety of Dior’s headquarter at Avenue Montaigne,” Élan explained.
When we thanked Professor Coleridge for his illuminating commentary on Paris post-war fashion experiences; he suggested we continue our conversation at a nearby pub so he could be better acquainted with us. Since Uncle James had other business to attend, he left the three of us to our contrivances that ended in a propagational way I had fantasized but not envisioned as reality. The professor’s alluring charisma and well-versed Fashion knowledge took my breath away. I was already infatuated with the man who would later become my Fashion mentor when I entered the Harrow School of Art & Technology and the Royal College of Art to pursue my Fashion studies.
Third Week of November 2014
My Reply to Both, David and Andy
David, your open-mindedness is one appealing quality that got you selected into E.R.O.S./V.T.A. As you are aware, our education taught us to be truthful in all matters; including the iteration of fantastical beasts encounters by the society’s recruits. LOL!
That said, I have a question. During your years of service, did you ever contemplate leaving any of the Arab households or E.R.O.S./V.T.A.? Did that notion ever enter your mind? If so, what were the reasons behind the rumination or reflexions?
Young
Andy,
I am rendered speechless by your loving tributes to me. You never fail to awe me with your accolades. I am humbled by your trust. There are times I do not feel I deserve such eulogize from an intrepid man like yourself. You always remind me to be myself; even though it is difficult to live up to your expectations at times. I am a mere mortal feigning as an angel while you are the manifestation of perfection - God. LOL!
My dear ex, I am sure the readers of A Harem Boy’s Saga would be interested to know more about your life, after our amicable separation. Do enlighten us with your insightful sagacity.
Love,
Young
Beauty Pageants (Chapter Fifty-One)
“Beauty pageants teach the exact same skills that sports do: goal setting, ‘can do’ attitude and performance under pressure. Except in pageants, you wear nicer shoes.”
Tad Abdul Hafiz
Second Week of October 1968
Copacabana Palace Hotel, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Tad’s entourage made a three day stop in Rio de Janeiro before we headed to Acapulco, Mexico, where we reunited with Sheik Fah
rib, Prince P, and their respective entourages to witness the 1968 Olympic Sailing Competition. As documented in chapter one - The Perfect Storm.
In the early nineteen sixties when Brasilia became Brazil’s national capital, Rio de Janeiro was about to lose its vibrant luster; even though beauty pageants continue to reign supreme in this South American metropolis. The Miss Brazil World or Miss Mundo Brasil, in Portuguese, was and still is an annual beauty contest that aims to select the best candidate to represent this Federative Republic in the international Miss World contest. That year, it was held at the infamous Copacabana Palace, the most opulent hotel in Rio.
The hotel’s history began in 1923 when President Epitácio Pessoa adjured the hotelier Señor Otavio Guinle to construct a monumental masterpiece. The French architect Jose Gire was entreated to model a Mediterranean style hotel like that of Hotel Negresco in Nice and the Carlton in Cannes. From that moment forward, the Copacabana Palace became a symbol of Rio.
Although the Copacabana Palace hotel added historical value, tradition, and luxury to this effervescent city; Copacabana beach was then relatively unknown to the international set. That changed in 1933 when the Hollywood movie Flying Down to Rio discovered Copacabana and its Palace Hotel. With Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers and a host of chorus girls dancing on the wings of an airplane over Copacabana beach above the Palace Hotel, this establishment’s Golden Book soon registered the signatures of Tyrone Power, Henry Fonda, Errol Flynn, Bing Crosby, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., and Walt Disney.