Dress code

I need a new wardrobe. The casual-leaning business-casual clothing that was perfect for the Wilmington backdrop is not quite right for the beach-life vibe here in Lewes.

I am not unfamiliar with this sort of attire overhaul. Just as styles change with the seasons and trends, attire expectations change depending on role and setting and event. Being out of step with the dress code invites speculation about your intended message, degree of sophistication, or sense of occasion. Unfair, but true.

In addition to how fashions have changed over my lifetime, I notice that each new phase of my life has called for a wardrobe transformation.

As a product of Catholic schooling, I spent twelve years in hunter green uniforms – first with a green jumper in elementary school, then the green and grey plaid kilt and green blazer of my high school. The rules were strict – skirt length (measured from the floor when kneeling), shirts (ivory, peter-pan collar in grade school, white polo shirts in high school, neatly ironed if you please), socks (always knee-high green), shoe style (oxfords or loafers, no more than ½ inch heel), sweaters (button down v-neck cardigan or cable knit crew neck). No fancy hair ties, or earrings, or accessories, or nail color.

Uniforms in general are meant to signify unity and loyalty, making specific commitments visible. In a Catholic school uniform, you were expected to represent the institution worthily. You not only put on identifiable clothing, you also donned a cloak of responsibility and decorum. Uniforms made selecting clothing on busy mornings an easy task; but the monotony made me abstain from wearing green for years afterward.

In college and grad school, student dress codes were pretty loose. My wardrobe wasn’t as casual as most, because I felt that my clothing should in some ways respect the formality of a school setting. Plus, after four years at an all-girl school, I wanted to be nicely dressed enough to be noticed by the guys in the group. I was never one to be over the top, but I never wanted to appear scruffy either. If I stood out as overdressed, I never really noticed.

While my roles in the workforce never required a uniform, that didn’t mean there weren’t rules just as strict (and often unwritten). Professional women in my early career days were expected to wear suits, and we were told by advisors to dress for the higher-level jobs we aspired to. Stylish colors, refined fabrics, heeled shoes, tasteful accessories, upscale aesthetic. Working in financial services firms increased the pressure to look the part. Why would people let you handle their money if every person in the organization didn’t project a professional presence at all times?

Those expectations were gradually loosened over my decades in Corporate America. I was part of the generation that defined the business casual look – with multi-page guidelines complete with illustrations. (No sandals, sneakers, shorts, or t-shirts; socks and stockings still required…) It was a bumpy transition, and it generated way more discussion and conflict than the subject merited. (Really? What could it possibly matter what we wore?)

Once I opened my solo consulting practice, I got to enjoy a relaxed working-from-home wardrobe long before the pandemic made that a widespread thing. I learned the trick of dressing for a camera – a nice sweater and scarf gave a professional look when I spoke with clients or students even when I was actually underdressed in comfy pants and stockinged feet.

Dress codes are an odd cultural tradition, always changing and context-specific. In some arenas, we seem to have dropped dress code expectations completely. A US senator goes to work in a hoodie; an evening of theatre can be enjoyed in jeans; parishioners attend church in play clothes rather than their Sunday best.  It’s a good thing that people are coming to recognize that behavior, character, and attitude are what counts. Nonetheless, dressing still requires a sense of occasion, and checking in on expectations in unfamiliar settings is a good idea. People see what you wear before you start talking, and while people shouldn’t judge, first impressions still count.

How you dress is code for who you are and how you feel. How you dress is also code for who you want to be and how you want to feel.

Which brings me back to my current wardrobe dilemma. I can’t quite describe the look that matches who I want to be here and what I’m feeling inside – because I’m still figuring that out. I do know that there are too many items in my closet and drawers that don’t appeal to me anymore. I think my new personal dress code will have to evolve one purchase at a time. Luckily, I am enjoying reinventing myself – and shopping.