This snippet is from “A Yorkshire Boyhood”, a memoir by the politician Roy Hattersley:

In these comprehensive days of all-emracing jeans, it is hard to recall the social cachet which was attached to grammar school uniform.

Thanks to caps and scarves the difference between “passing” and “failing” was visible to every neighbour. Green, maroon and navy blazers were the railment of success. Second-hand jackets handed down from elder brothers and sweaters hastily knitted by grandma were the apparel of defeat.

The lucky parents regarded the weeks of outfitting as a period of public rejoycing. Close relatives were invited to the scene of the actual purchase as if it were a wedding or a christening.

I can only approve of such attitudes. :)

Actually, I remember the day I got my first uniform: the entire extended family showed up for a viewing. Over the course of two or three days I had modelled it to so many aunties, that by the first day at school the novelty had quite worn off.

The fussing was quite nice, though…