One way in which the different themes that govern the portrayal of archaeology in popular culture become prominent is how archaeologists are dressed. After all, in the emerging Experience Economy it is important to avoid negative cues and ensure the integrity of the customer experience by role-appropriate clothing (Pine II and Gilmore 1999: 55-6).

The adventure hero dresses in colonial style, often resembling camping gear. As Michael French (n.d.) put it, ”if Indiana Jones’ khaki and leather outfit is in line with the outdoors wear of the 1930s, which it is, then Lara’s khaki shorts, boots, and spandex are the very definition of 1990s adventure wear.” Key elements of that look are the sun protection – preferrably the pith helmet, the ”practical” shirt and trousers with many pockets, the solid boots, and the earthen khaki-colours that all pieces have in common (see image above). The traditional archaeological adventure wear does not only evoke colonial times but also the great time of travelling at the turn of the last century and of course the (more recent) image of the Camel man (Stern and Tode 2002: 72). Today, if you want to create an archaeologist recognisable at first glance, this is the look you choose – as so many caricatures demonstrate (Russell 2002b: 49-50). Vice versa, if you create real colonial-style fashion, you will choose to shoot your photographs on an actual excavation, preferrably in Egypt (see figure above). The scholar, on the other hand, wears jacket and tie or, better, a bow-tie. Not infrequently, glasses and a beard adorn this character too (e.g. Professor Henry Jones). As Tom Stern and Thomas Tode (2002: 72) observed, when in TV documentaries name, title and institution are blended in just above the waist of archaeologists wearing such scholar wear, this does not clash but accentuate the appearance by emphasizing the charisma of authority that is already implied by the clothes anyway.

Figure 5.7 Archaeological fashion. Various sources.

The field archaeologist (of any theme) is generally characterised by very different wear that is often deliberately unfashionable (Stern and Tode 2002: 77). Time Team presenter Tony Robinson once said that you could distinguish archaeologists by their poor dress and terrible haircuts. Mick Aston, one of the Time Team heroes, admitted that ”we’re complete scruffbags” and added, significantly, as many other archaeologists too could have said, ”but I don’t care. I’m not remotely interested in appearances, life’s too short for that”.

Both archaeologists and people of the past found, or find, themselves in situations that are closer to nature and more ’primitive’ than how we normally live today. In this sense, too, the archaeologist can appear to be ”out of this world” (Stern and Tode 2002: 77). Fieldwork wear shows how properties (or stereotypes) of the period being investigated are being transferred onto the archaeologist. Colourful Viking personalities who experience adventures and make discoveries, having to cope with the many challenges of their lives and wearing Thor hammers around their necks are being excavated by colourful archaeologists who are engaged in adventurous fieldwork and make discoveries, having to cope with the many challenges of their excavations and wearing Thor hammers around their necks (Petersson 1994: 61, 70-1). For some, these convergences may even imply a privileged understanding of the past being investigated. However, as recently stated on the British Archaeological Jobs Resource discussion group, ”just because I don’t choose to dress as a medieval peasant doesn’t mean I can’t understand the archaeology of a medieval site.” However that may be, archaeologist in the field certainly tend to look odd and maybe even exotic in their all-weather gear or combat clothes, unshaven or only half dressed (Petersson 1994: 39). This archaeological field fashion has been well captured in David Webb’s photograph series ”Diggers” showing real archaeologists on excavations.

The same can certainly not be said for another kind of clothes that have come to be associated with field archaeology in recent years, as it became firmly associated with the C theme. Certainly in Sweden, archaeologists in the field now tend to wear protective gear in very bright colours that are designed akin to the clothes of workers employed on road construction or building sites. Such health-and-safety wear signifies the competent professional working in a professional environment. It also makes archaeologists highly visible in their role as the Heritage Police. In these clothes, the archaeologist is no longer exhibiting his dreams and aspirations (as the adventurer), his higher abilities (as the detective/scholar), or his own personality (as the generic field archaeologist) but his professional practice (as the specialist attending to a scarce resource). Out of the field, the same archaeologist appears in an odd looking suit, as if somewhat out of place (e.g. Berglund, Fig. 5.6).

Often, the styles are not pure but mixed. For example, Time Team star excavator Phil Harding, arguably on most occasions exhibits fieldwork wear, although I also remember having seen him wearing elements of health-and-safety wear. Stephanie Moser (forthcoming *22*), an archaeologist specialising in representations, described him however as an adventurer:

With his long hair, leather jacket, jeans, hat and strong regional accent, this fieldworker lives up to the popular conception of what it means to be an archaeologist. The cowboy type hat that he wears is of particular significance as a symbol of adventure and exploration.

As this example illustrates, the same clothes can be interpreted in different ways. The statements being made through fashion are anything but harmless and irrelevant though. As the popularity of formal or informal uniforms in society shows, clothes are not trivial for the image that is conveyed about oneself and one’s profession. Heated discussions can emerge among professionals about how one should, or should not, dress as an archaeologist. For example, when, in 1996, David Webb published some of his images in the British Institute of Field Archaeology’s newsletter, they created an animated discussion. Whereas some felt that they ring particularly true, others argued that the numerous breaches of Health and Safety regulations and poor living conditions shown, reflected badly on the IFA and the ”good practice” and professionalism they were trying to promote (Swain 1997).

This issue recently surfaced again on a discussion on the German discussion group arch-de (in February 2003). The arguments raged between those advocating a professional image of an archaeologist wearing appropriately ”neat” clothes like ”insurance reps or doctors”, and others who were not prepared to give up their beloved army wear with many ”practical”, large pockets and other useful features (cf. Russell 2002b: 50). What some considered as ”scruffy old stuff” (schlampiges Räuberzivil) signifying a desire to be different from the rest of society, was described as ”comfortable” clothes in line with public expectations by others who in turn mocked those in suits as ”tie idiots in uniform” (uniformierte Krawattenheinis). The latter responded by insisting that only neat packaging in ”middle-class outfits” can express the credibility of a respectable profession and thus lead to success in tough financial negotiations. A very similar, and similarly heated, debate took place on the British Archaeological Jobs Resource discussion group one year later. Through the clothes the archaeologist wears, then, various messages are conveyed that all seem to relate back to one question that does not seem to be resolved in popular culture either: is archaeology a job for professionals or a life-style for particularly dedicated individuals?

These are issues somebody like John Walker, Chief Executive of the York Archaeological Trust, is well aware of. Although he wore a suit and tie when I met him, according to his own testimony, he comes from an archaeological sub-culture which he calls ”the drunks” and which is distinct from another such sub-culture which he calls the ”young managers”. His maxim is that as archaeologists we need to use the widely held image of archaeology to our advantage. When meeting politicians, for example, it is not necessarily the best strategy to wear suit and tie in order to state that ”I am one of you”, since they are far better at dressing in this style anyway. In such circumstances Walker therefore prefers to wear what he calls ”normal” clothes, since it gives him the advantage of coming across as ”a little peculiar” and ”the eccentric archaeologist”, incorporating some of the stereotypes of archaeologists that abound in popular culture. A beard, he says, is necessary for that reason, too.

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