There is a scene in Lawrence of Arabia in which Lawrence is presented with the white garb of an Arab sheik following his amazing rescue of a man during a long trek through the desert. He puts it on and finds a private spot and practices walking, running, bowing, and playing the part. It is the viewer’s first signal of consummated love between this Englishman and his adopted new culture.
So it was for me, the last night in Spain. A gentlemen attending the final event, Carlos Siemens, wore his formal Spanish cape for the evening. Striking doesn’t quite describe it. It was beautiful without being pretentious, elegant to the point of making anyone gasp but not “put on” in the slightest. It was even inevitable, as much a part of the living landscape in this country as ham and maracas.
Carlos explained its history deep in Spanish roots, how it used to have a hood until the king wore one without, how the wool navy of the one he wore is a bit less formal than the traditional black but still worn only for gala occasions. The red inner lining made of cotton velvet shows when worn open because there are no buttons to keep it closed. Even the top collar, which is sized by neck is never fastened but retains buttons that reflect the local tradition, usually in silver.
There are special ways of handling the cape. When you throw it over your shoulder, you grab it from the inside and turn it just a bit so that when it rests on the other shoulder, a flash of red can be seen. When you escort someone, you throw the whole of one said into the bend of your arm, so that your arm can be taken. When you sit, you gather up the entire cloth to the lower back and drop it again once you are seated.
The garb is not only beautiful. It is also functional because it is light enough to be worn on a gently cool evening but when one throws a side over the shoulder, it completely blocks the wind so that it protects against the most bitter cold. Carlos taught me all these things.
The site of the world’s most famous maker of Spanish capes in Madrid offers a list of famous personalities who have worn them, including Picasso, Buñuel, Rudolph Valentino, Plácido Domingo, Alfred Kraus, Andrés Segovia, Ernest Hemingway, Gary Cooper, Marcelo Mastronianni, Catherine Deneuve and Federico Fellini.
I stood and marveled that I was seeing one in real life. And then Carlos very generously took off his cape and put it around me, and with it the long history and deep culture of Spain, and I imagined that it all fit perfectly, garb not only to be worn on the outside but one that penetrates to the heart and soul. And then that feeling that Lawrence had overcame me, and I momentarily imagined that I had been adopted a son by Spain herself.
The question remains for Americans, just how viable is this within our borders? As with most men’s clothing, they key is casual confidence, not feeling as if “I’m wearing a crazy cap!” but rather “this is what I wear to stay warm.” It strikes me that it can be done, without much trouble at all, especially in black tie and dinner wear.
From what I can tell from the Sensena site, it runs a bit more than $1000, which strikes me as low given the quality of wool and exotic beauty of this item. This is what you pay for a suit at Brookes Brothers to make yourself look like a politician. At least when you wear this cape, no one will suspect that you are that!
And, yes, they are available for women too.
I asked Hans Hoppe what he thought. He laughed and held tightly to his Loden coat. And yet the Austrian School is a large one, an international one, a way of thinking that stretches far back in time and far into the future. There is surely room for diversity here.
Perhaps the seasoned anti-statist can wear this cape it as a symbol, and not only of the roots of the Austrian School. Think of the state as the bull and the cape wearer as the matador.
