The Fashion Issue
Winter 2007

 
Untitled Document
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Contents

Special Report
> Dressed Not to Kill
    > Sidebar: Johnny Come Lately
> What Not to Wear
> Costume Drama
> The Proctologist Wears Prada
    > Sidebar: Buns of Steel
> Boutique Medicine
> Image Doctoring

Features
> Girl, Interrupted
> The Aftermath

Departments
> Bookmark: Next
> Benchmarks
    > Line of Attack
    > Marshmallows Optional

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Johnny Come Lately
A short history of breezy backsides.
by ann marie menting

It’s dubbed a “johnny” or a “johnny shirt” by some medical professionals. Some coin new terms such as “I-C-U gowns” while others dressmaking imageplump the image of these clouds of cotton by genteelly referring to them as hospital gowns.

Several clues can be found to how this ubiquitous garment came to be—and how it came to be called a johnny. But its incomplete history hints at the freight of class and status, the comfort of anonymity, and the marbling that time can bring to line and lexicon.


a breath of fresh air

Patient wear did not always feature breezy backsides. For centuries, patients remained fully clothed during examinations. Physicians strategically shuffled clothing layers as they auscultated or probed, rarely breaching the privacy scrim of their patients’ undergarments. By the mid-eighteenth century, those unfortunate enough to enter hospitals would likely have received uniforms. Scholars scrutinizing Johannes Beerblock’s 1778 painting of the sick ward at St. John’s Hospital in Bruges, Belgium, for example, describe patient ensembles that consisted of turbans and long-sleeved white gowns with red vee necks. Others, researching hospital stays of injured British soldiers during World War I, report that recuperating troopers wore pajama-like outfits, bright blue and pocketless.

In the early 1900s, documents began to describe the dress—and undress—of patients for the medical exam. One of the earliest appears in a 1928 manual on the periodic examination, a health practice only then coming into fashion, written by Eugene Lyman Fisk. Fisk advises physicians to offer women a type of covering that “gives a sense of protection and lessens embarrassment.” He suggests a “specially designed poncho,” fashioned from a heavy muslin or sheeting, “which slips over the head and covers the shoulders and body to the knees.” To “close” this comely frock Fisk suggests adding small tape ties midway between head opening and hem.

Although Fisk worries the details of the drape for women, his suggestion for what men should wear is sublimely simple: nothing. “Men are examined stripped of clothing,” he writes. Fortunately, menswear was not neglected for long; soon men, too, were provided examination gowns, swapping full exposure for mere drafts.


A Search for meaning

Although patient gowns are found in clinics and hospitals throughout the nation, “johnny” is not found in everyone’s wardrobe of terms. It displays a distinctly regional style.

“ ‘Johnny shirt’ is commonly used in the Maritimes,” says Stewart Cameron, an associate professor of family medicine at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. “So when a nursing friend moved to Virginia and reported that her use of the term drew blank stares from her colleagues, I was intrigued.” Research led Cameron to surmise that referring to hospital gowns as “johnnies” is not universal. “It seems to occur primarily in the northeastern United States and in eastern Canada.”

Medical references, such as Dorland’s and Stedman’s, are split on the subject, with only Stedman’s linking the word with medical wear. “Johnny” as a lowercased noun for such garments also appears in several general dictionaries produced in the United States. And although “johnny” is listed in the Oxford English Dictionary, the ultimate go-to guide for word spelunkers, its slang usages are two—“a man” and “a condom,” with nary a mention of hospital gown.

Thumbing through the Oxford American Dictionary shows that this usage exists in the United States—but in a limited zip code range. Its geographic popularity, according to Luanne von Schneidemesser, senior editor of the Dictionary of American Regional English (DARE), centers in Massachusetts and Maine.

In a small, back-of-the-envelope survey von Schneidemesser conducted among colleagues, she learned that “hospital johnny” is foreign to residents of Illinois, Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin. Since DARE editors were not aware of this regional term for hospital gown when working on the early volumes, this was welcome information to her. “We will indeed add it to a later version of the dictionary,” she promises.


the pajama game

Just as the use of the term “johnny” has remained tethered to place, the design of the hospital gown has stayed frozen in time. But recently there has been a thawing of that design, at least at the edges. Some are giving the humble cover-up a more uptown feel by making it fashion wear, while others are modifying it to meet the modesty and style requirements of specific populations.

In the late 1990s, in the hope of providing tony garments to their patients, New Jersey’s Hackensack University Medical Center commissioned the designer Nicole Miller to redesign their patient wear. Her response was Fashion Rx, an exclusive line that banished the column-of-cotton look and replaced it with drawstring pants, pullover tops, and side- and front-snap gowns in colors and “whimsical prints.” For nearly a decade, Miller’s garments have been provided to all the center’s patients, an effort the institution says helps them “take back their dignity and feel at ease in a highly stressful time.” This, no doubt, is true: There isn’t a skinny tape tie in the lot.

There also are no back ties—or revealing openings of any sort—on garments offered Muslim patients visiting the Maine Medical Center in Portland. When center personnel learned that Muslim women were skipping medical appointments because examination gowns did not preserve the degree of modesty their faith requires, the center had the gown remade to match the new need. All center patients, men and women, now have the option to wear a two-piece ensemble composed of a roomy, long-sleeved top and a floor-length sarong, each available in dozens of colors and patterns.

Discomfort of a different nature led to a line of garments for women undergoing chemotherapy. Wearing a johnny while awaiting radiation treatment at Massachusetts General Hospital, Margaret Feodoroff felt vulnerable and chilly. With her experience as inspiration, she joined with her two sisters, one of whom was simultaneously undergoing treatment for colon cancer, and developed Healing Threads. The design of this line of garments allows patients to remain covered and comfortable while also providing medical personnel the access needed for the delivery of radiation and chemotherapy treatments. The stylish yet practical line has drawn acclaim from patients—and from the fashion industry’s must-read, Women’s Wear Daily.

Ann Marie Menting is associate editor of the Harvard Medical Alumni Bulletin.

Photo: Rubberball/Getty Images


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