White-Collar Criminals
I’ll readily admit that I get a healthy dose of schadenfreude from stories (like this one from DC and this from New York) about criminals who evade law enforcement by dressing in “professional”-looking clothing. It’s perfectly natural to judge someone based on his or her clothing — and obviously much more acceptable than doing so based on his or her skin — but in cities with pretty strict class segregation and high crime rates, it too often becomes a visual shorthand for distinguishing “regular people” (i.e. professionals) from social undesirables (potential criminals, panhandlers, etc.). The worrisome implication is that had these men not been dressed in suits, but rather in jeans and baggy shirts, they would have been eyed with suspicion even before attempting any “funny business.”
This is related to our reluctance to treat actual white-collar crime as seriously as we ought, as well, I think. As understandable as it is that we’d mix criminality into the matrix of behaviors we use to determine class, it’s not forgivable, and I don’t have a lot of sympathy for a police officer who lets a prisoner go because he assumes prisoners can’t wear suits.
The much more interesting question is why so few criminals dress in suspicion-allaying nice clothes. Apparently, they enjoy looking like criminals.
— Steve Sailer · Sep 30, 11:31 PM · #
Criminals aren’t as smart as they think they are. This applies too other categories; bloggers for example.
— Tony Comstock · Sep 30, 11:39 PM · #
Dara, sweetheart, drink a barium shake and look within. Vet thyself suspiciously.
Right now, you are playing.
— Kristoffer V. Sargent · Oct 1, 04:30 AM · #
No crime here other than my own faux pas, but I had a lesson in assumption checking today when an astonishingly striking, tall, middle aged fellow shows up at my workplace in a full face of expertly applied make up, complete with purple hued eyeshadow and finely drawn, arched eyebrows. He sported a pair of extra tight, super shiny black latex, skinny legged pants that ended in equally shiny patent, pointy boots. The pants had a thick gold zipper that neatly divided his trim buttocks and promised instant access should the need arise. The embellishment continued to the front of his groin and served to draw attention with line and shape to his genitals, somewhat like a codpiece might. He carried a large red, lizard skin bag. All in all he was a strikingly exotic flower amidst the building zone in which I am currently working. My assumptionometer was switched to off when I asked him if he needed access to be inside the hall with the rest of the troupe. The troupe being a group of colourfully talented stilt artists who have been using our facility with its extravagantly high Victorian town hall ceilings to rehearse a show.
“No, no I’m the wood conservator here to take scrapings and photos of the timber panelling that needs restoration in the Mayor’s Chamber.”
I resisted making my mouth into an O shape.
— ell · Oct 1, 10:45 AM · #
“I resisted making my mouth into an O shape.”
I’m not quite sure what shape my mouth is right now.
— Tony Comstock · Oct 1, 10:58 AM · #
Checked both links, and what I found interesting was that both men were in their 50s. Old pros, then, not young street punks. I wonder if the suit thing would work for a 20-year-old, or if anyone in that demographic would think of it.
— M.C. · Oct 1, 02:48 PM · #
I’m a serial loiterer. Mostly because I don’t like smoking around the apartment, so I smoke at convenience stores and whatnot. Occasionally I get chased off. Never when I’m wearing work clothes, though.
— Trumwill · Oct 1, 09:34 PM · #