The advice appealed to me, as did the delicious
campness of the writing. Yet the post caused a storm of
self-righteous indignation from readers accusing the author of
crassness in focusing on unessentials at a time like this.
Such readers miss the point.
Unessentials are even more important at a time like this. Even in good times, there is nothing trivial about what business people choose to wear. A peep at our socks will tell what nationality we are; a peep at the rest of it will tell what line of business we are in and also will give a clue on the state of the economy. One of the most blessed side-effects of recession is that we all
smarten up. A sober suit is not only the right thing to wear the day you get axed but also the right thing to wear every other working day, too.
Following the crowd
At a conference in London recently for
HR managers, everyone was in a suit and tie while, at the same conference two years ago, they were all casual. HR people are on the front line of the jobs market and they are also like lemmings - so, if they think suits are in, they are in.
The casual look, which we used to celebrate as a sign of egalitarianism and
unstuffiness, now looks
sloppy. When Stephen Hester, head of Royal Bank of Scotland, was photographed on a recent Sunday leaving the Treasury in jeans and an extraordinary beige gilet with
suede patches on the shoulders, the
punters did not like it. One wrote to the Financial Times claiming that Mr Hester appeared to be wearing the very same M&S slippers that this reader got for Christmas. The fashion scales have fallen from our eyes. We now see that men in casual clothes look simply awful; and we also are starting to suspect that a man who is casual with his clothes may be casual with our money.
The new smartness is born of paranoia. I know one man who has just gone out to buy some Jermyn Street shirts
(a sale bargain) in order to send the message to his boss that he would rather not be fired. It has been a good investment: he still has a job and says the ritual of ironing these shirts reminds him that his job matters, and claims to respect it a little more.
Dress to impress
I discovered a few years ago the truth that one feels better about one's job when one looks smarter. Until I was 40, I used to dress myself mainly in clothes bought from the sale rail at Gap Kids (size XL) and
slung them on carelessly. Now I wear jackets and heels and mascara,
foundation, lipstick and pearl earrings.
Partly, I'm trying to offset the ravages of age; but I've also noticed that, when I dress to impress, I may not succeed in impressing anyone else but I do impress myself. And that, surely, is a good start.