When I was at a court for a client’s case recently, I noted the shirt I was wearing had reached the end of its lifespan as the button cuffs were terribly worn out. Traditionally, the attire lawyers wear in courts is a shirt with a detachable collar, which is attached to the snow-white, point collar of the shirt that has been starched to maintain the stiffness. Also attached to the shirt is a lace jabot, which is known as “mau so” (“cat whiskers” in Cantonese). This court attire has to be tailor-made. Lawyers who are particular about what they wear usually go for the French cuff, which is folded back on itself and consists of four layers of fabrics. The cuff is fastened together with a pair of cuff links. Three decades ago when I became a lawyer, there was already a simpler version of court attire for female lawyers. It featured a collarless shirt attached with a band that is formed by two rectangle pieces of cloth hanging down, also known as “hau sui kin” (“bib” in Cantonese). Once I was asked by a senior lawyer before appearing in court as a barrister whether I wanted to wear cat whiskers or a bib. I rolled my eyes. Of course it had got to be the strictly traditional neckwear. How could one go for the easy way out? It had to be cat whiskers!

I always source my detachable collars, neckwear and barrister’s wigs from Ede & Ravenscroft, a long-standing legal dress specialist in London. Each time I order a dozen of each of the accessories. For shirts, I ordered six pieces in the early days. Later, I sourced a dozen, thinking that if there was a lengthy court case, at least I had a clean shirt to wear at every hearing. (But of course, I don’t need any of the said items when I appear in court as a defendant.) In those days when I used to buy six shirts in one go, I had them tailor made at A-Man Hing Cheong, a tailor specializing in academic gowns. When I started to buy 12 shirts, I went for the tailor who made my suits. When I first joined the legal profession, barristers were in high spirits. Everyone was meticulous about their appearance and what they wore in courts. My style was orthodox and rather old-school compared with others. I didn’t like the idea of having my initials sown on the cuffs of my shirt, which I found frivolous. I didn’t like to deliberately leave the cuffs of my suit unbuttoned just to show to people the suit was tailor made. I also disliked those luxurious cufflinks. I would go to antique markets to source secondhand nine-carat gold cufflinks with subtle patterns and a non-shiny look. Nonetheless, I do have one luxurious accessory, which is a pair of buttons from the shop Wai Kee gifted by a fellow lawyer, who is much more picky than me and who finds most buttons to which detachable collars are attached to be too loose. I still use them today.

Shirts, collars, and neckwear are not expensive, but taking care of them is costly because they need to be starched to be stiff. If they are soft, they look unclean. That is why all my shirts are snow-white and stiff, thanks to my diligent helper who starches, cleans and irons them well. All the shirts have razor-sharp folds. But over time, the cotton yarns of the folds would become fragile and break. My wardrobe also has some brand new shirts from A-Man Hing Cheong, but they no longer fit me.

There are many other accessories that belong to the past: the so-called “biscuit tins” for holding wigs, round leather boxes for holding detachable collars, leather cases for carrying neckwear, and small leather boxes for keeping detachable buttons (I have to keep a dozen of them as they are easy to lose, or I borrow from other lawyers). In the old days, lawyers would smugly bring along their own silver cups for drinking water in courts. When presenting their closing arguments, they would read from documents attached to a folder, which was in turn held by a wooden frame with patterns. The list of accessories goes on. Now all it takes is a paper carton or a laptop computer. It’s better than carrying around all those folders. My modest-looking silver water cup has long been turned into a penholder.

The court case I handled the other day was a judicial review case involving a torture claimant. There have been a large number of this type of cases over the past more than 10 years, but who would have thought Hongkongers have also joined the ranks of refugees fleeing abroad?

(Margaret Ng Ngoi-yee is a barrister, writer and columnist in Hong Kong. She was a member of the Legislative Council of Hong Kong from 1995-1997; 1998-2012.)

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