The long white gown is not selling the way it used to. Margaret Chen has run a children's formalwear shop in Queens for twenty-three years. She used to keep eight or nine christening gowns in stock at any time. Now she carries two.
"Mothers come in, they see the gown, they say it looks like a dress," Chen said last month. "They want pants. They want a little vest, a bow tie. Something that looks like a boy."
Chen is not alone in noticing the change. Baptism remains a significant ritual for Catholic, Orthodox, and many Protestant families in the United States. The clothing has shifted. Boys' christening attire increasingly resembles miniature formalwear rather than the flowing robes that served both sexes for generations.
Traditional christening ceremonies continue to hold deep significance for families across religious denominations
The gown tradition has roots in practical necessity. Before the late eighteenth century, infants of both sexes wore long dresses until they could walk. Christening gowns simply reflected what babies wore. The white color carried religious meaning—purity, new life, the cleansing of original sin. Families who could afford it used silk and lace. Those who could not used cotton or linen.
Victoria's influence lingers. The British queen commissioned a christening gown for her first child in 1841. The garment became a royal heirloom, worn by dozens of descendants over more than a century and a half. That particular piece was eventually retired and replaced with a replica. Coverage of royal christenings in British tabloids has kept the long gown visible in popular imagination, even as everyday practice moves elsewhere.
American retailers adapted. Specialty shops and online sellers now stock rompers, shortalls, and suits in white, ivory, and cream. A basic cotton romper sells for thirty or forty dollars on Amazon. A silk three-piece suit from a boutique costs two hundred or more. The markup reflects handwork, imported fabric, and the assumption that parents will pay for a garment worn once and photographed extensively.
Chen said her customers rarely ask about fabric content or construction. They want to know if the outfit will photograph well and whether the baby will cry less in pants than in a gown.
"They're thinking about the pictures. Instagram, the family group chat. Nobody wants the baby screaming in every photo because he's tangled up in all that fabric."
— Margaret ChenSome families do maintain older customs. Chen mentioned a Greek Orthodox customer who needed a specific type of white garment for a ceremony that involved full immersion. A Mexican American family wanted a long gown to match what the grandmother had worn decades earlier. These requests come in, but they have become exceptions.
The delicate craftsmanship of heirloom christening garments reflects generations of tradition
The heirloom question complicates purchasing decisions. A christening outfit worn by one child and then stored may never fit a sibling born at a different season or size. Gowns were traditionally long enough to accommodate variation. A suit sized for a six-month-old will not fit a twelve-month-old.
Chen keeps a small selection of adjustable options—drawstring waists, rompers with extra snaps. She said the convertible styles sell reasonably well, though parents sometimes find the detachable skirt pieces confusing.
The industry has not produced comprehensive sales data on boys' christening attire. The market is fragmented across department stores, boutiques, Etsy sellers, and Amazon third-party vendors. Anecdotal reports from retailers suggest the suit-and-romper trend has accelerated over the past decade. Whether this reflects changing ideas about gender, practicality concerns, or simply fashion preference remains unclear.
Modern christening celebrations blend timeless ritual with contemporary sensibilities
Chen plans to retire in a few years. She is not sure who will take over the shop or whether boys' christening gowns will still be part of the inventory.
"Maybe they'll come back. Fashion does that. But I won't be here to see it."
— Margaret Chen