I’ve met the invisible man. He’s tried to kill me — several times, always at night. He rides a bicycle with no lights, on a dark street, usually going the wrong way, while dressed from head to toe in black. He doesn’t stop for anyone. My quick reflexes are the only reason I’m still alive, and I doubt that he’ll be alive much longer, since he is invisible to traffic as well.
I’ve also met the invisible woman. She tends to show up at parties. Her reason for dressing all in black is her belief that she looks thinner that way. She doesn’t — the invisible woman is usually thin to begin with — but from her point of view it’s best not to take any chances. Better to be invisible than to have people think you’re overweight, is what she must be thinking.
Other invisible people tend to populate the world of art, photography and architecture. An architect I know explained that this is to focus attention on the works of art, not the artist. Black has become a sort of uniform — a signal to others of where one’s interests lie.
These three scenarios illustrate one of the biggest cultural phenomena I noticed when coming to Germany. With only a few exceptions — like Norman Foster, Silent Bob, the Blues Brothers and the late Steve Jobs — the “cult of black” is very much a West German thing. I’m not passing judgment on it; I’m just saying I don’t understand it. And I’m not the only one. Every single parody of Germans in the American media has had them dressed in black from head to toe.
An American friend of mine was shopping here for a ski jacket. The only one she could find in her size was black. “I’m not going to a ski funeral,” she said.
Astute readers will of course notice that I’m wearing a black suit in the portrait on this page. In some circles, it’s hard to wear any other kind of suit and be taken seriously. It’s also not how I normally dress. Although I tend to wear dark trousers — they go with everything — I prefer at least to put on a colored shirt. And I often notice a certain effect.
Wherever I go, strangers come up and ask me for directions. It doesn’t matter whether I’ve ever been to the place I’m in, or whether I even speak their language. My ex-girlfriend offered an explanation: “It’s your light-colored jacket. It makes you look friendly.”
That would have to count double for one of the American exchange students I advised last year. If I ever lost sight of our group while we were taking a tour, all I needed to do was spot Kendra in her bright orange jacket. If Kendra ever sprains her ankle while she’s out hiking in the mountains, the helicopters will find her right away. There are advantages to being seen.
While I was writing this, an American co-worker came to my office door. She was wearing a rainbow-colored scarf. It was like a burst of sunshine. Wear black if you want, but it just doesn’t have the same effect.
