There’s a New Age of Business Wear, and I Am Afraid
surely no one is wearing this stuff on the tube in rush hour
I find myself at business events on a semi-regular basis. Although I now have a detailed ranking system for the catering, decor and management systems of various hotels and conference centres, my first thought after receiving an invitation is, more often than not: what am I supposed to wear?
The concept of ‘business wear’ is one that will invoke panicked eyes and sweaty palms in any number of early-career employees, visions of blazers and pantsuits flashing before their eyes in a dizzying carousel. However, if you watch The Apprentice, you might have a different impression of what constitutes a day-to-day business outfit.
Unfortunately, I do still watch the show. In case you’ve been wondering what you’re missing, the answer is not much. The candidates are boring, the tasks uninspired and the quips more and more scripted each episode.
But the other, more interesting thing that has changed is the ‘fashion’. I use quotation marks here because these outfits are only fashion in the general sense that they are clothes. There is a veritable lack of style, of swish, of pizazz from the candidates. While they may be trying to put their own spin on office wear, they always seem to be spinning in a direction that they shouldn’t.
Business wear as it’s seen on screen is at once ridiculous and alarming. Menswear, of course, is standard. Broadly inoffensive and boring, variations are minimal (fifty shades of grey indeed) and the only effort to stand out is seen through a pop of colour on a tie, or perhaps a hint of brocade on a waistcoat. Nothing has really changed over time, and although trends may come and go, for the most part, the basic elements remain the same. But for women? Well.
I don’t think I’m a traditionalist or a prude, but the outfits on reality TV shows about business or commerce (Selling Sunset is the first that comes to mind) really push the limits, and not necessarily in a good way.
To give this style a name is difficult. Employees at these places look like they’re ready to swap fluorescent overhead lighting for strobes and glitter balls at a moment’s notice, as if someone is suddenly about to incite a club night between meetings and they want to be prepared.
Far be it from me to criticise someone’s style, but who approves these fits? Who looks at a skirt with a length of the Paris Hilton variety (“the size of a belt”), six-inch platforms and a bag barely big enough to hold a phone and thinks, “this is perfect for a long day of walking around, meeting clients and maybe even encountering a staircase.” Merely on a practical level, it’s absurd. Anyone selling a McMansion with a floating glass-and-metal staircase should not be put through this challenge; it’s like the producers for America’s Next Top Model have suddenly got involved. The next thing you know they’ll be showing houses from inside zorb balls, or conducting a pitch as they traverse an obstacle course.
Women have always been told to look a certain way at work, whether that’s through looking hyper feminine or trying to hide any sign of femininity in order to fit in with the boys’ clubs. That being said, even in the latter category if your makeup isn’t perfect and your hair carefully coiffed there will doubtless be comments that you’re “looking a bit tired today.” If a man walks into his office looking a little scruffy then he’s interesting, he’s got character. If a woman does the same, dropping the facade for a day or so, then there’s something wrong with her.
Of course this isn’t the situation everywhere, and there are a lot of workplaces where looking like you grabbed the first clothes you could see and wrangled your hair into an approximation of a ponytail before running out the door without looking in the mirror is fine. I know this because it’s how I look most days and I still have a job. If you throw a long scarf over it you can claim it as frazzled Englishwoman-core.
Yet in many offices, particularly those that are more ‘traditional’ in their approach, a strict dress code is still in play. I’m not necessarily against this — having some kind of a uniform at least makes it easier to choose what to wear every day, and it can be easier to distinguish between your work life and real life if you’re literally putting on a costume each morning.
But forget the starched shirt and sensible shoes — according to a slew of shows there’s a new uniform in town, and it’s getting more extreme by the season.
It’s easy to dismiss this as another lie sold to us by the small screen. “Reality TV isn’t real!” I hear you cry. “Please go outside!” Well, you’ll be glad to know that I have.
I was once like you. I thought, naively, that this phenomenon was limited to the screen, that reality TV was not, in fact, reality. But at a conference last year, to my surprise and, I’ll admit, delight, I found I was mistaken. Leaning on a standing table (the cruellest design choice — let me sit down!), powered solely by coffee and the thought of the snacks that would be wheeled out later and looking like a journalist who had been dragged through a hedge backwards, my tired eye was caught by a glimmer of neon orange. Like a wildlife photographer who’s just seen an elusive cat, I stood to attention.
Across the room was a woman wearing a bodycon dress, in the aforementioned neon orange, and black high-heeled boots. On her arm was a large Louis Vuitton bag. I was in awe. Like a celebrity had just walked in, heads turned to follow her walk across the room. Despite her shoes, she had no problem with the standing table, navigating it with ease. There was no rootling around in her bag to find a pen — everything was to hand. But despite how well-put-together she looked, she looked like she’d walked into the wrong event, making a wrong turn and missing the casting call for the latest girlbossing, business-empire-building Netflix original.
It was undoubtedly impressive. But my second thought, after the haze of amazement had passed, was whether she was comfortable in her outfit. Would the blisters and leg ache be worth it? The constant hyper-awareness of the length of a skirt, the cut of a neckline?
In vogue businesswear sways from one extreme to the other. To be taken seriously, women may choose more masculine shapes. Choose trousers over a skirt. Try to look as ‘professional’ (unfeminine) as possible, or embrace femininity and try to play it to their advantage. It’s a game that you can only ever lose, because at the end of the day someone will always have something to say about how a woman chooses to present herself in her place of work.
I guess, in a way, I’m doing that right now. As with any conversation about clothing, it comes down to choice. One person’s bar hopping outfit might be another’s Monday morning commute, and that’s fine. But the heightening of what constitutes ‘appropriate’ and potentially, in some cases, expected workwear is a concern that lingers at the back of my mind. I hope, optimistically, that reality TV can remain unreality for as long as possible, even if it’s for selfish rather than feminist reasons — there’s no way I could look that put-together before 9am.