 Dressing Up and Down By John MARONE |
So you've just come out of the shower and are standing buck naked in front of your cleaning woman, who's slipped into your apartment with your freshly laundered clothes, which she hoped to have in place before you even opened your dresser.
You manage to throw on a towel, but she's still standing there waiting for you to tell her what you want to put on for the day - and she needs to hear it in Russian!
First things first: In English, the general choice in men's underwear is boxers, bikinis or Y-fronts. Furthermore, you can refer to all three in general as drawers (particularly in the American south), underpants (standard English), briefs (if you work in a department store) or pants (U.K.). In Russian, there really is only one word - Troosee' (Трусы). Of course if you want to be cute, you can call them Troo'seekee (Трусики), which more or less translates as "undies." And boxers are sometimes referred to as Semeinye Troosee' (Семейные Трусы), or family drawers. However, any other variants will just be borrowed from English.
Let the reader beware that this is no idle linguistic nonsense. Among English dialects alone, the chance of making an embarrassing mistake is significant. For example, if you've just sat on something dirty, in America, you can say you've stained your pants. In England this could mean bowel problems. Just imagine yourself in such a situation at some posh garden party at a Hampshire estate.
Anyway, you've got your private parts covered and now would like to put something over those hairy columns of flab you call legs. But, here the Russian language starts showing its preference for distinction. In English, you can just ask for a pair of pants, which could mean anything from creased woolens to baggy chinos and not exclude the bottom part of your track suit, either. In Russian, you have to be more specific from the start: Bryuky (брюки) means dress pants, Dzhinsy (джинсы or "jeans") is just about anything else that's casual and not necessarily blue or with riveted pockets. There is also Shtanee' (штаны), which is very general and almost sounds like children's talk, but that doesn't mean you can get away with using it like English speakers use "pants."
And once again those British have their own way of saying things. If "pants" means "underwear" then "trousers" must be what you wear over them - right? Well, for North Americans, "trousers" sounds a bit old fashioned.
Continuing along, you need to cover up that pot belly (although your cleaning women has more than once given it an approving nod), and the tufts sticking out from under your arm pits also make you a little self-conscious. Are we feeling macho today? Then slap on that tank top, which in Russian is usually referred to as a "Mayka" (майка). Be careful this is also a girl's name in this part of the world. I'll bet none of our readers ever dated a girl called Tank Top - unless that's what your friends called her behind your back.
If you're more of the Clark Kent type, ask for a "Footbolka" (футболка) or T-shirt. After all, there IS the issue of those armpits. Here, Russian's preference for specificity gives way to its fondness for sport. Besides "footbolkas," they have "Gol'fik" "Гольфик" (turtleneck in America or polar neck in the U.K.) and "Teniska" (тенниска) - a polo. Moreover footbolka can mean a jersey or a sweatshirt as well. The best translation for it is what the British call a "jumper."
What's this? While you were musing about linguistics, old Lidiya Ivanovna has wrapped a pair of socks around your flat feet. Don't worry if they don't look like yours, which she accidentally over-ironed after being distracted by a phone call from her daughter, who's living in Italy. Your new socks are much warmer, more colorful (i.e. with little reindeers sewn on them) and so reasonably priced. "Noski" (носки) translates pretty simply into English.
With your shoes, the situation is analogous to that with pants. "Tufli" (туфли) means dress shoes rather than anything that goes on your feet. "Sapogi" (сапоги) are boots in the traditional sense: i.e. high. "Botinki" are analogous to "Shtany" (штаны) in that the term is pretty general. To be precise, "Botinki" come up higher than shoes but shorter than boots. Most other footwear translate pretty smoothly: slippers - "tap'ki" (Тапки), tennis shoes - "Krosovki" (кросовки). English on the other hand, has probably too many words for the footwear we do our sports in. Besides tennis shoes, there are running shoes, sneakers (sounds old fashioned), track shoes and trainers (U.K.).
What about outerwear? Again, Russian speakers are, at heart, traditionalists. You have an overcoat "Palto" (пальто), raincoat "Plasch" (плащ), or jacket "Kurtka" (курта). As with pants and shoes, there really is no equivalent of the English "coat," which used to mean what we now call a suit coat. They do, however, have what they call "Dublyonkee" (дубленки), which is usually a three-quarter length soft-leather winter coat. As far as I know, they are as traditional as pelmeni and borsch and were considered prestigious in Soviet times.
So now you are pretty well dressed. But wait! Don't forget to put on your hat, pleads your cleaning woman - as if you were about to go out onto the street soaking wet and barefoot. Of course, everyone knows that you lose most of your body heat through your head, but we in the West think of hats more as decoration. Our cars have heaters and you can't get cold between the parking lot and the office. Here, you are risking your health, which is often restored through a rigorous home-based regime rather than a chance to use that insurance your job affords you.
At any rate, a "Shapka" (шапка) is a hat if there ever was one (usually the knit pullover kind). But as soon as it grows a visor like the one Uncle Lenin used to wear, it becomes a "Kepka" (кепка) or "Cap." There is also a "Shlyapa" (шляпа) or hat of the variety men used to don up until about 40 years ago. Now the word is more often used to refer to a guy who doesn't get much respect - not a wimp but rather a pushover: i.e., he gets tossed across the room like one's hat.
Now fully clothed, our reader can go out onto the street in complete confidence - once he's paid Lidya Ivanovna for the laundry, of course. Her attire, by the way, presents no fewer obstacles to cross-cultural understanding or linguistic examination. But as she is already dressed, in the interest of decency and good taste, we shall leave her that way. After a hard day's work, she will return home to her husband, who also expects to be taken care. If she never married, she can be referred to in Russian as "Siniy Chulok" (синий чулок) which means "a blue stocking" or "old maid."
John Marone is chief editor of Willard News Service.
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Read also previous issue' articles:
Neither a Borrower
Just Don't
In a Word
Hot or Not
Animal Farm
Hi on Health!
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