Why Do Some Shirts Have Collars?

I wondered - in my curiosity - if shirts always had collars. 

It seems obvious that they didn't. So, why do some shirts have collars? What purpose do they serve, and when did they first appear? 

Even today, most of us own a shirt with a collar, along with other tops such as a T-shirt, which have no collar at all. 

Let's start our search with the medieval clergy. That tells us that before the 15th century, there were no shirt collars at all.

Back then, shirts were simple undergarments with open, round, or scoop necklines, and long sleeves made of linen or hemp. 

Collars first appeared in the Western world sometime during the mid-to-late 15th century as simple standing bands of fabric around the neckline. I might have guessed that collars were a style of the wealthy. Wrong. 

Members of the clergy often wore stiff tunics with high necks, and adding a collar to the shirt worn beneath the scratchy tunic helped prevent the tunic’s stiff neck from aggravating the skin. Among the clergy, these collars became the only visible part of the shirt.

MacLeod and his collar

Though they originated for practical reasons and became symbols of humility and purity, the clerical collar you would recognize didn't appear until the 19th century, when Scottish Reverend Donald McLeod invented and popularized the clerical collar (informally known as a dog collar) worn by ministers today.

And there have been many collar styles and fashions in the past 700 years.

Clink Glasses - Cheers!

I wrote recently on my origins blog about why "toast" is not only that heated bread but also what we do when we drink to the health or in honor of (someone or something) by raising one's glass together with others. As a corollary to that, I wondered why we also might clink glasses together after a toast before we take a sip.

The toasting of someone’s health is an ancient ritual, rooted in Greek and Roman drinking culture and quite likely long before. These ancient civilizations may have also knocked their mugs and cups together and the more delicate clink likely became fashionable in the 17th century. Here are 3 origin stories.

The most common origin story I found seems unlikely. In medieval times, clinking cups or glasses hard enough would cause liquid to slosh and spill from one vessel into another, so if your drinking companion had poisoned your cup, they’d be consuming poison too. This seems like a petty weak way of preventing drinks from being spiked. Yes, belladonna, hemlock, arsenic, mercury, or any other common toxin were popular ways of eliminating one’s rivals in the Middle Ages, especially among the nobility, but that origin is very doubtful.

An alternative theory, of no precise origin, suggests that clinking glasses was meant to frighten away evil spirits. In medieval Europe, there was a superstitious belief that evil spirits lurked in alcohol or hovered around celebrations. The high-pitched sound of touching glasses, according to the theory, would chase them away. This sounds possible, but I found no evidence to support it being the sole, or even partial, origin of this toast ritual. 

How about another theory that suggests the practice was a way to complete the sensory experience of drinking? Sipping wine and toasting already involved sight, touch, smell, and taste — and the clink added sound, the last of the five senses. Historian Margaret Visser argues that clinking grew in popularity during the 17th century, when Venetian glassmakers perfected the art of clear, resonant crystal. For the first time, drinking vessels produced a beautiful ringing tone when struck together, and that sensory pleasure became part of the ritual.