Not taking those few moments in the morning to decide what

Hear now the words of the wise, spoken as though across the ages. Kenneth Cole declared: “Not taking those few moments in the morning to decide what you’re saying to people by how you’re choosing to dress is a lost opportunity.” In this simple yet piercing utterance lies a teaching about choice, expression, and the unseen language of appearance. For man does not only speak with his tongue, but with his garments, with the carriage of his frame, and with the symbols he drapes upon himself. To neglect this moment of decision is to cast aside a weapon, a shield, a banner—tools through which one proclaims his essence to the world.

The ancients knew this truth. The Roman general did not enter the Forum in the garb of a farmer; he wore the toga praetexta, edged in purple, declaring his authority. The philosopher, choosing his threadbare cloak, told the people that wisdom was greater than wealth. And the warrior, girded in polished bronze, let his enemies tremble before ever hearing his war cry. In each case, dress was speech, and silence in this regard was never neutral—it was abdication. To enter the day without thought to one’s garb is as though to step into battle without sword or shield.

Consider the tale of Mahatma Gandhi. When he cast off the dress of the English-trained lawyer and clothed himself in the humble homespun dhoti, he was not merely covering his flesh—he was speaking to a nation. His attire cried out: “I am one of you. I share your struggle. My body and spirit are woven from the same cloth as yours.” By this choice, without uttering a word, he ignited hearts and bound millions together in common cause. His power did not rest only in speeches, but in the silent sermon of his appearance.

The morning, therefore, is not idle. It is the forging of the day’s first weapon. As the blacksmith shapes iron in the early light, so should one shape the image with which he will stride into the world. To ignore this is to cast away opportunity—to fail to plant seeds of influence, inspiration, or dignity in the soil of human perception. Each meeting, each encounter, each fleeting glance from stranger or friend, is a chance to declare, “This is who I am. This is what I stand for.”

But beware: this teaching does not call for vanity or shallow pride. To worship mere ornament is to mistake the vessel for the wine. The power lies not in costly fabric, but in intentionality. A soldier may wear simple cotton, yet if chosen with purpose—clean, upright, reflecting his resolve—his clothing speaks louder than the silks of the careless. The wisdom here is not in extravagance, but in self-knowledge, and in honoring the dialogue between self and world.

Thus the lesson is clear: do not abandon the few sacred minutes of dawn to mindless habit. Pause. Ask yourself, What do I wish to say to the world today, before I open my mouth? Perhaps you wish to show strength, or gentleness, or reverence, or rebellion. Let your garb be the silent herald of that choice. In this, you align your outer shell with the flame of your inner being.

Practically, then, prepare your garments as a warrior lays out his armor. Do not stumble each morning in haste, but consider the day’s battles and allies. Lay aside clothes that confuse your message, and choose those that amplify your voice without sound. In so doing, you transform every greeting, every presence, every first glance into a victory.

And so, O reader of the future, remember: your clothing is your banner, your signal fire, your unspoken truth. Let not the opportunity of its language be squandered. Seize it each morning, and stride forth clothed not merely in fabric, but in meaning, power, and destiny.