Rarely does anyone wear sweats to the Chicago Art Institute.
Based on my general experience and observation as a tourist on July 3rd, 2023, when the temperatures were nearing ninety degrees and the air was muggy, people still like to look nice when they go to gawk at Gaugins.
My first rule of thumb for art-museum wear: try something made of linen. It seems linen is an ideal fabric for leisurely strolling through the aisles of the art museum, and I saw a majority of museum-goers dressed in white breezy shirts, drawstring shorts, long flowing pants, and crisp summer dresses, all in the light-weight linen style. Is it because linen clothes feel a tad bit more elegant than jeans? Perhaps.
Is it also because the temperature is sweltering? I, for one, avoided my denim shorts outfit, dreading any material so thick on such a hot day. I picked a cotton dress, which swayed around my ankles and tied around my waist with a thin ribbon, with a bright blue gingham-print. I either looked chic or like I was channeling a picnic blanket.
Secondly, consider your accessories. What better time to display your statement jewelry and your quirky pieces than a trip to the art museum? Chunky gold hoops, tassels, and bold dangle earrings elevate your summer wardrobe, and props to you if you can pull out a designer handbag or even a tote bag from another cultural institution, graphic-printed with bold letters.
All I had were fake pearl studs and a mini KAVU backpack, patterned with red-white-and-blue triangles. It wasn’t the same shade of blue as my dress, and I’m sure the triangles of the bag and the squares of the gingham clashed horribly, but hey, my hands were free.
Thirdly, no one wears heels to the art museum or any other shoe that clicks. I saw more white sneakers at the Chicago Institute of Art that day than I think I’ve ever seen in my life. Vintage Reeboks, platform sneakers, high-top Converses, pristine white leather sneakers, checkerboard slide-ons, low-tops, lace-ups—you name the sneaker and it was walking the halls of the Chicago Institute of Art. With my orange sandals, which are commonplace where I come from, I felt slightly out-of-place.
I wonder if museum-goers instinctively wear shoes that allow them to move quietly through the galleries? Or, and I think the second theory is more likely, most people understand that visiting the art museum is not a passive, sedentary activity. At a museum, you stand. You move from gallery to gallery, painting to painting. You walk constantly, albeit leisurely. The art museum, while inspiring some level of stylishness, equally requires arch support.
Which brings me to my fourth advice for museum attire: disregard the previous advice and wear something comfortable, something that allows you to focus on the world-renowned collection right in front of your eyes. You are there to look at the one-of-a-kind artworks and to compare Monet with Van Gogh with Morisot. You are not there to be looked at, and you are definitely not there to compare your blue-gingham dress with someone else’s perfectly tailored linen jumpsuit.
You are there to wonder and to wander. So dress like it.
Hannah Riffell has landed in Lansing, Michigan twenty-three years after she was born there, nineteen years after she moved to Mississippi, seven years after she moved to Northern Michigan, and two years after she graduated from a university in Grand Rapids. You probably can’t find her because she’s either exploring the state, wandering around her city, or just lost in her own head.
