We sometimes have to help our students to understand that what they wear influences the way they are seen by patients and colleagues, so affecting their ability to do the job. We may find that we are hesitant to point this out to them nowadays (even when faced, for example, with a bare midriff) for fear of being thought a fuddy-duddy. It is sometimes said that this laxity of dress is a modern phenomenon. I'm not so sure.
I recall going for my anatomy viva in June 1964, at the end of my first year at Cambridge. I had heard that one was expected to wear a gown on these occasions, so I put on my gown over my usual uniform. The examiner was a Dr Bull, an elderly (or so he seemed to me) anatomy lecturer of rather Victorian appearance, with mutton chop whiskers and beetling eyebrows. We went through the viva. The only question I can still remember was being asked to identify a beautiful dissection of the superior and inferior hemiazygos veins. This was so much in contrast with my own sad efforts in the dissecting room that I could not help expressing my admiration. To be honest, I think I might also have been trying to flatter Dr Bull, in the hope that he had done the dissection himself. At any rate, when the time was up Dr Bull drew himself up, looked at me, and said, “Well, Rushton, you've passed.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“But in future please remember, when you come to examinations here, we expect you to wear a tie.” He looked at my bare neck.
“A jacket.” He looked at my sweater.
“Trousers.” He looked at my jeans.
“And shoes.” He looked at my sandals.
“Yes, Sir.” Mortified, I fled.
The rebuke had been given gently, but, as you see, I do remember it.