"Shorts" are another interesting study. According to James Laver, shorts evolved as sporting attire in Euro-American society in the 1920s.  It was not uniformly embraced.

Most tennis players had simply worn the summer clothes of the period, even if the skirts were long and hampering to the movements. In the 1920s, when the skirts of ordinary dress were short, tennis costume followed suit, but when skirts became long again at the end of the decade, tennis dress went, so to speak, on its own, since it was plainly absurd to reintroduce long skirts in what had now become a strenuous game. In April 1931 Señorita de Alvarez played in divided skirts which came to slightly below the knee, and two years later Alice Marble of San Francisco appeared in shorts above the knee. It was left to Mrs. Fearnley-Whittingstall to appear at Wimbledon without stockings. This caused an uproar, but the new mode was so obviously sensible that it was soon adopted by almost all women players (242).

Although short pants (that is to say, "shorts"), the scandalous wear of the early 20th century, are acceptable wear for men and women at Glencoe, short skirts are not. Skirts have for centuries been considered more modest than pants, since they conceal the—gasp!—"indecent" outline of the legs. (Some of us may remember that fateful al fresco interview twenty years ago in which reporters lured Lady Diana Spencer into direct sun in order to reveal what she had failed to conceal with a slip.)  

Curiously, there is no explicit prohibition against men wearing skirts at Glencoe, though I somehow doubt that a man teeing off in a pink dirndl would go unnoticed by Glencoe's security guard. A final observation regarding Glencoe's regulations: blue jeans, though they conceal more flesh, and as such might be considered more modest than shorts or a skirt, are also prohibited on the course.

Although Glencoe has no published dress code about its swimming pools (on the web, anyway), one can imagine the following regulations for that locale:

Proper swimming attire is required at all times in the pool. The following attire is prohibited in or around the swimming pool:

sleeveless shirts, fishnet shirts, shirts without collars, shirts with garish, gaudy or vulgar slogans or advertising, sweatshirts and sweatpants. Blue jeans, cutoffs, gym shorts or any shorts having an inseam less than five inches.
*** Metal Spikes are not allowed

Although wearing a shirt on the golf course is required, wearing no shirt in the swimming pool is presumably acceptable, as is, one imagines, wearing a swimsuit (especially if it is "generally of a style and kind sold in the Golf Shop"). Now, I've often wondered what would happen if I wore a bra and panties into a swimming pool such as Glencoe's. Certainly a bikini swimsuit is acceptable attire at this establishment, would my underwear be equally acceptable? I'm guessing not, though these days, who can tell the difference anyway? Sweatpants in the swimming pool would surely be prohibited, though they are distinctly more modest than my bikini or my underwear. Likewise, "shirts with garish, gaudy or vulgar slogans or advertising" (except those, one presumes, promoting the Glencoe Golf Course) are no doubt prohibited at the Glencoe swimming pool, as they are on the course.

"What's the point to all of this?" you say. Well, the point is that although societies are built on rules and mores designed to control and govern behavior for the [perceived] benefit of the common good, these rules and customs (especially those governing dress), are relative to time, place and context. For example, belching is considered rude in Euro-American society, but is polite, even complementary, in others. A t-shirt with an obscene slogan is prohibited at Glencoe, though it is practically de rigeur when attending a heavy metal concert. By contrast, no headbanger in his right mind would consider wearing a Glencoe polo shirt to a Def Leppard concert. In addition, though a bikini-clad parishioner could cause an entire church congregation to collapse in cardiac arrest, those same pious people probably wouldn't bat an eye at the sight of a bikini-clad woman lying on the beach (except for Dana Carvey's "Church Lady.")

In this way, dress can be seen as a sort of uniform, which, governed by societal rules of "propriety," is altered to fit different occasions. Though we might chuckle at a sign that forbids the wearing of green eyeglasses, is this prohibition really any more arbitrary than the unspoken judgment one might make at the sight of a student wearing a dinner jacket and top hat to calculus class? Or of a woman wearing a sable coat to a soup kitchen? "There is a time and place for everything," goes the old adage, including dress. Whether we choose to follow the rules, or make new ones, however, is up to us.

What do you think?

Are dress codes necessary? Why?

Bibliography:

-Laver, James. Costume & Fashion. London: Thames and Hudson, 1995 [1969].