In New English Review Dalrymple examines one of the most outward signs of propriety, attire:
The impression that the bohemianisation of dress is intended to make is that the wearer is such an individual, whose real inner me is so unique and valuable, that it is quite unnecessary for him to make any effort to cover it in the rages of mere outer smartness. Do not judge a book by its cover, this form of dress proclaims, or almost shouts; inside me there is the Summa theologica.….
Our current way of dressing is a sign of our egotism, of our habit of living in a kind of portable solipsistic bubble that goes everywhere with us, like a shadow. ‘I am not going to make an effort just for you,’ proclaim our clothes. On the contrary, my life is so full of importance, so beyond the right of anyone else to have a say in it, that I shall just put on the first crumpled apparel that comes to hand as a matter of principle.