In this fast-moving age it is clear that adherence to social media brings with it a distancing from history. Or rather the more pleasant sides of history that formed part of the standards of the day in their time.
I am reminded of this by this week’s Black-Tie Dinner at Lauriston Park – the retirement village that hosts our home. It is built on land owned originally by (then) Mayor Halley in 1892 who on-sold it to William Rout. He then decided to erect a fine home and engaged an architect to provide him with his concept of fine living, a house with a grand view and yet adjacent to the slowly expanding town.
The house itself lives on what is sometimes known as Māori Hill – although the name was never formalised. Its attraction was that it was the highest point in the Leamington Borough from which there was a 360 degree vista of the verdant land rolling out before the beholder.
And no doubt Mr Rout and his wife Ann did have a fine life, raising their one son and using the surrounding land to experiment with different varieties of fruit. He communicated the success of this horticultural venture with the government of the day.
The house was completed in 1902 and named Whānau Ora (House of Health) – a link to Mr Rout’s initial intention to provide a sanitorium for the district. However, he was beaten to that dream by an English wool dealer who built his health-related venture on the cool slopes of Maungakawa.
But back to historical standards. The house fell into disrepair and was essentially derelict when it was purchased by the company that built the retirement village. They had the foresight to refurbish it in a grand style and each October we celebrate this fine attribute with the Black-Tie Dinner. Gentlemen arrive in sober smart garments and ladies attired in their finery to match the occasion of a five-course dinner at a very moderate price.
Which harks me back to my sea-going days when, as a deck officer and navigator on passenger ships servicing New Zealand, we had to ‘dress’ for dinner every night (except Sunday). Starched white shirt with golden studs up the chest, cummerbund, white or black mess jacket depending on the climate and patent leather dancing shoes. And of course, the obligatory black tie. None of the colourful stuff that abounds today. Woe betide any officer seen outside his quarters prior to 6pm in evening mess kit and equal opprobrium if he stepped outside after 6pm in day dress.
Some will think that this is all old-fashioned nonsense. But the standard of dress and appropriate timing regulations were all part of the desired regimentation and behavioural expectations where passengers had a right to know that the ship was run to high standards.
It reflected on timeliness, security and overall safety.
I am reminded of these olden days standards when visiting restaurants in this town and elsewhere, wondering how a highly trained maître d’ or waitperson feels when they have to maintain a standard and present food from highly skilled chefs to men in T shirts and jandals – and often down-market attire of some of the ladies. Let us be clear here. Everyone has the right to dress how they feel.
But spare a thought for the restaurant professionals who work to a standard to please their clients. They have a right to be treated in a civilised and polite way and dress is but one part of that politeness.
