Waistcoat

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Waistcoats of this era usually had five or more buttons that closed high up on the chest. The sense of propriety inherent in hiding one's shirt behind all these buttons can be gauged by Bloom's reaction in Lotus Eaters when he stands up from his pew in the church and is embarrassed to realize, "Were those two buttons of my waistcoat open all the time? Women enjoy it. Never tell you. But we. Excuse, miss, there's a (whh!) just a (whh!) fluff. Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. Glimpses of the moon. Annoyed if you don't. Why didn't you tell me before. Still like you better untidy. Good job it wasn't farther south." The slovenly disinhibition of the bookstore keeper in Wandering Rocks manifests itself, in part, in his unbuttoned front: "Onions of his breath came across the counter out of his ruined mouth. He bent to make a bundle of the other books, hugged them against his unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtain."

Like ties, these pieces of sartorial armor must have been uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time. In Circe Bloom tries to alleviate Stephen's discomfort in a small way: "(He bends again and undoes the buttons of Stephen's waistcoat.) To breathe." At the end of the day he too is happy to be rid of the "Inhibitory pressure of collar (size 17) and waistcoat (5 buttons), two articles of clothing superfluous in the costume of mature males and inelastic to alterations of mass by expansion." Even immature males were burdened with such apparel. The Eton suit of well-off boys' schools included a waistcoat. At the end of Circe Rudy appears in such a suit and "A white lambkin peeps out of his waistcoat pocket."

Waistcoats have an obvious utility in the damp and sometimes chilly British Isles. Earlier in Circe Bloom recalls that his father owned one that was thermally enhanced: "He believed in animal heat. A skin of tabby lined his winter waistcoat." But the practicality of waistcoats was clearly balanced by their ability to enhance the dullness of male attire with accents of bright color. In Telemachus Mulligan dons a "primrose waistcoat," the yellow color matching his dressinggown and no doubt confirming Stephen's judgment of him as a "heretic" but also declaring him a dandy conversant with elegant British customs. The first illustration here suggests that pale yellow waistcoats had been fashionable in England since the early 19th century. In Lestrygonians and Wandering Rocks Tom Rochford is seen in a "claret waistcoat," no doubt a rich wine-red. In Circe Professor Maginni, the dancing instructor, appears in "a slate frockcoat with claret silk lapels, a gorget of cream tulle, a green lowcut waistcoat, stock collar with white kerchief, tight lavender trousers, patent pumps and canary gloves."

In details that perhaps inspired the "Rust black sleeveless waistcoat, four capacious pockets" of Samuel Beckett's marvelous Krapp's Last Tape, Bloom's waistcoat is revealed to be a rabbit's warren of pockets housing a shifting menagerie of possessions. At the beginning of Lotus Eaters he takes a pseudonymous calling card from its hiding place in the headband of his hat and transfers it "to his waistcoat pocket." Thinking of perfumes and body odors on the beach in Nausicaa, he performs an olfactory inspection: "Mr Bloom inserted his nose. Hm. Into the. Hm. Opening of his waistcoat. Almonds or. No. Lemons it is. Ah no, that’s the soap." In Ithaca, having "produced from his waistcoat a folded page of prospectus (illustrated) entitled Agendath Netaim," he unfolds it, glances at the ad, and then lights a cone of incense with it. A few moments later, "He inserted his left hand into the left lower pocket of his waistcoat and extracted and replaced a silver coin (1 shilling), placed there (presumably) on the occasion (17 October 1903) of the interment of Mrs Emily Sinico, Sydney Parade." In Penelope Molly remembers how he begged her for a pair of her underwear "to carry about in his waistcoat pocket." Other men too appear to use their waistcoats as purses. Professor MacHugh keeps dental floss in his.

In Proteus Stephen thinks of Mulligan metonymically as a "primrose doublet," the term reflecting his interest in Elizabethan times when gentlemen wore short, tight-fitting padded jackets, either with or without sleeves. (It seems possible, though beyond my knowledge of fashion, that the waistcoat evolved from Renaissance doublets.) The narrative tracks Mulligan's progress through the day by glancing at his colorful vest. In Scylla and Charybdis, "Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a bauble." Dining with Haines in the D.B.C. in Wandering Rocks, "Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter." In Oxen of the Sun he is "the young blood in the primrose vest," and later in that chapter "the figure of Bannon in explorer's kit of tweed shorts and salted cowhide brogues contrasted sharply with the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan."

Rochford, Bloom, and Joseph Nannetti all take advantage of the opportunity to stick fingers and hands into the garment's many openings as they contemplate the world and strike poses. Waistcoats also attract younger hands. In Nausicaa Bloom remembers the fascination that the row of buttons held for his young daughter: "Little hand it was: now big. Dearest Papli. All that the hand says when you touch. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons."