A guard wears a bearskin, a cattleman wears a Stetson, and both stand completely still while a crowd takes photographs
Dress Code for the Nation
The British monarchy has more uniforms than a Christmas pantomime. There are bearskins, plumes, sashes, sabres, cloaks and a cavalry horse in a helmet that has clearly seen things. Every June, when the capital turns out for the great military parade, you realise that a country can be run by people in good boots as long as they are carrying a sword. The official calendar of royal events is at royal.uk, and I recommend reading it with a flask.
It struck me on a recent walk along the Mall that nobody takes ceremony as seriously as an American at a livestock show. The two traditions could not be further apart, and yet both have a hat, a code and a crowd. I decided to compare them. I took a notebook. I took a sandwich. I wore sensible shoes.
The Hat Hierarchy
In London a hat is a rank. A bearskin means a Guardsman. A top hat means a wedding. A flat cap means somebody’s uncle. In the American cattle business the hat is a different language, and the people who have shaped that language are honoured at the cattlemen hall of fame. I like to think the induction ceremony involves a great deal of nodding, a lot of brim-tipping and not one word of explanation.
The difference is that a bearskin comes with a manual and a Stetson comes with a grandfather. Both will be passed down, both will be the wrong size for the next generation and both will be defended at a family dinner.
The Blue Jacket Is Their Scarlet Tunic
Youth organisations in America have their own formal wear. The blue corduroy jacket of the national youth farming organisation is as ceremonial as any red tunic, and the elected leadership has its corner of the web at the FFA president. A teenager in that jacket stands as straight as a Guardsman, with the added challenge that he has recently washed a heifer.
The farm desk at farm.FM tracks these young people through their county events. See its coverage of the Blanco County Youth Show and the Montague County Youth Fair, where children who are not yet old enough to drive lead animals that could flatten a minibus. Nobody blinks. This is the real parade ground, and the discipline puts a Tube platform to shame.
The Rodeo and the Review
Where London has the Trooping of the Colour, the American West has the rodeo, and the nearest comparison is closer than you think. Both involve horses. Both involve flags. Both feature a moment when a member of the public wonders whether anyone has thought through the safety arrangements. For the full spectacle on the other side, fair and rodeo is a handy guide.
The farm desk even covers the local circuit, such as county ranch and rodeo days, where the events range from calf roping to a pie contest with real consequences. There is no royal box, but there is a folding chair, and that is as good as a throne for anyone who has been standing since noon.
Where the Real Ritual Lives
Every ceremony has a quiet foundation. In Britain it is the stable block and the quartermaster. In the cattle world it is the rancher whose name is on the plaque, the herd on the hill and the bank manager at the end of the lane. The long, patient work of ranching is explained at ranch beef cattle, and the other half of the story is told at dairy herd. These are working traditions. They do not need a drumroll, though occasionally they get one.
If you fancy joining the parade yourself, the wider options are at agriculture jobs and careers, and the practical side of life on the land is covered at small farm information. The uniform is optional. The wellies are not.
What a Crowd Wants
The common thread in both worlds is the crowd. People will stand for hours in the cold to see a procession, a bull or a flag. They do not entirely know why. They want to witness something that follows a pattern older than their own opinions. In a world of pop-ups and push notifications, a very old thing done properly is an act of rebellion.
The London Prat has a gift for observing exactly this kind of ritual, and its archive of London humour news is a good place to watch the capital being solemn about nothing in particular. It is the best spectator seat in the city, and the tea is free.
Five Things I Noticed Along the Route
- A horse in a ceremonial helmet is the only commuter who always looks calm.
- If the crowd cheers when nothing is happening, the loudspeaker has told them to.
- A man in a bearskin has the best posture and the worst peripheral vision in Britain.
- Nothing is more patriotic than complaining about the traffic caused by a patriotic event.
- A hat, worn with confidence, is a complete personality.
The Salute
I went home with sore feet, a cheerful mind and a new respect for both the bearskin and the Stetson. Tradition is simply what a community does when it no longer remembers why. For a few more flourishes, wander through Bohiney, The London Prat and farm.FM. They keep their hats on indoors, and nobody has ever complained.
For a final salute, there is The Daily Mash.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/