Ian McMillan: Join the campaign against noisy clothes

You’ve all heard of the Noise Abatement Society, that august body which seeks to make the world a more peaceful place; well, I’m starting my own sub-branch, The Noisy Clothes Abatement Society.

The idea came to me the other day; I was sitting in a reception area waiting to be seen by an Important Person and because I was seeing an Important Person I’d put a pair of what my mother called ‘proper shoes’ on, instead of the walking shoes I usually wear. My walking shoes make an extraordinary moaning noise when I walk across certain surfaces in them, as though I’m being followed by a crow playing a kazoo. That kind of musical accompaniment would be no good for my meeting with the Important Person, which is why I got my proper shoes out. I didn’t bother polishing them, of course: he wasn’t that Important.

The Important Person came to greet me; he stood at one end of the reception area and I strode purposefully towards him, hand outstretched and a grin on my face that became ever more forced as I realised that my proper shoes were squeaking like a pet-shop full of gerbils.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

I’d forgotten about the sound effects they made, and I remembered why I didn’t wear them very often. Other people in the reception area were looking up to the sky, thinking it was full of migrating birds, and a woman checked her phone as though my shoes replicated her ringtone.

It was at that moment that the Noisy Clothes Abatement Society was born. Walking shoes are top of the list, especially on lino floor tiles; proper shoes must go on the list if they squeak, groan, moan or ululate.

Once I started thinking about it, I began to realise that our clothes are assaulting our ears on a regular basis, and I’m determined to stamp it out. Quietly, of course, just wearing socks.

Velcro. One small two-syllable word, years of clothing-cacophony. As a poet I’ve spoken at lots of school assemblies and there’s always a point about four minutes in to my routine when an infant (or sometimes a Deputy Head teacher) begins to fiddle with the Velcro on their shoes. There’s a scratching sound, the noise of a plaster being ripped from a sensitive area of skin, a rasping hiss that could be a lizard with a cold.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

Then there are corduroy trousers, as favoured by middle-aged men like me once autumn begins to chill the air; they rub together as you walk, and you look around because you think somebody nearby must be scratching their back on a fencepost.

Cagoules are noisy; in the past I’ve misheard instructions from my wife as to what time to put the dinner on because I’ve been donning my cagoule and I’ve come home to a kitchen full of smoke and a Sunday joint that’s burned to a crisp.

So much clothing, so many sounds. Braces snapping; flat caps making a sucking noise as they come 
off the head; zips, well, 
zipping.

Join me today in the Noisy Clothes Abatement Society. And take your shoes off before you come in!