"An hour later, in Lambeth, I saw a hang-dog man, obviously a tramp, coming towards me, and when I looked again it was myself, reflected in a shop window. The dirt was plastering my face already. Dirt is the great respecter of persons; it lets you alone when you are well dressed, but as soon as your collar is gone it flies towards you from all directions."
- Orwell, Down and Out in Paris and London