Introducing a universal formal office dress code would do more for workplace inclusivity than you think

I am eternally one step behind the seasons when it comes to fashion. I’m still frantically searching the sale rails for the perfect sun dress when the armies of plum-coloured corduroy, cashmere creams and bottle-green turtlenecks march their way back on to the shelves. A chronic ditherer, it’s usually March before I’ve decided on my winter boots.

Despite half-arsed attempts at creating a capsule wardrobe (in other words: just the essentials), my addiction to fast-fashion means I basically have to start from scratch every season, which is not kind on my long-suffering bank balance. And the unspoken rules of an informal office dress code don’t help.

Dressing for work can be a minefield – particularly when there are no official rules. I spent 90 per cent of this summer’s heatwave obsessively checking my reflection in car windows, worrying over my dress being too short, too casual, too sheer. And as temperatures soared, I spent a fortune on “work appropriate” floaty items in an attempt to stem the rivers of sweat.

But the problem runs deeper than unseasonal temperatures. With autumn fast approaching, I’m already mentally totting up how much of my salary will be eaten by the new coat/boots/bag/knitwear the season demands. And for some, the economic pressures of conforming to these workwear standards is another subtle act of elitism.

More and more offices are adopting this quasi-casual, dress-down, informal approach – particularly in creative industries. On the face of it, merging your weekend and workwear wardrobes seems totally appealing. Who wouldn’t want to slouch into the office in an over-sized jumper and trainers, rather than a starchy shirt and blazer combo? But for those who can’t afford the latest Nike Airmax or the must-have Whistles knitwear, a more formal dress code could provide a sanctuary, and remove some of those aesthetic markers of economic hierarchies.

It could be argued that some of this is down to choice. If I want to bankrupt myself in & Other Stories and Cos every month, rather than sticking to New Look and H&M, then that’s on me. But I think it would be foolish to ignore the privileges afforded by being able to dress for work in a certain way. We associate power-dressing with shoulder pads, perms and pant-suits – but dressing for the job you want is still a real thing, and it makes a difference. Even when it comes to casual wear, there are hierarchies at play – sports luxe coupled with designer trainers is generally considered far more work-appropriate than Sports Direct basics. Appearing professional, polished and promotable is much easier if you’re working with a larger budget.

Your trendy tech/media/PR startup office is likely a melting pot of this kind of studied informality. Rigid structures and traditional social rankings masquerading as a relaxed, laissez faire, wear-what-you-want environment. And, just like the unpaid internships and barely-paid entry-level jobs, this environment is suited to the upper and middle-classes and excludes those from economically and ethnically diverse backgrounds.

At school, it has long been argued that wearing a uniform can improve attitude and commitment from students. And although studies suggest that there is no direct link between wearing uniforms and improved behaviour, anecdotally at least, uniforms are said to be a key factor in preventing and reducing bullying. The Department for Education consistently finds evidence that uniforms prevent bullying by making targets harder to identify – i.e. those who don’t fit in. A uniform can remove perceived inequalities between children and breakdown the socio-economic barriers that create playground hierarchies. We’re not at school anymore, but many of the adolescent pressures to “fit in” are carried over into adult life. In the office, rather than overt bullying (although this does happen at work), we are looked over for promotion, pushed out and sidelined for not conforming.

I’m not advocating for office uniforms on a grand scale. My school was Malory Towers levels of strict on its blazers and pleated skirts policy, and, a decade after leaving, I still relish being free of those constraints. Part of me loves dressing for work and expressing my creativity and professional identity through my outfit choices. Picking out tailored trousers, fine knit jumpers and chunky brogues, makes me feel grown up – I get to live out my youthful fantasies of being a busy, successful, city woman who drinks coffee and gets black cabs whenever she wants. But that’s because I have the luxury of choice. No, my budget doesn’t quite cover my high-end high street sprees, but I can choose to splurge occasionally without any real stress. I can just about keep up with the unspoken expectations of my office dress code without worrying how I’m going to pay my rent. But not everyone can.

If inclusivity and attracting a truly diverse workforce is the goal, then workwear expectations need to be looked at. A more formal dress code might be the way to solve it. The simplicity and uniformity of business dress might help to level the playing field. If everyone is in simple trousers, shirts and black shoes, it’s harder to feel inadequate, or as though you don’t match up. It’s also much more economically viable to own a few pairs of work trousers and shirts, than an endless array of effortless-fashionable-smart-casual items, which have seemingly become the norm.

Giving up the pressure to look fashionable at work is attractive. Aside from the financial burden, the daily stress of walking the precarious line between attractive and serious, fashionable and sensible, is frankly exhausting. Part of me longs for the time when my nicest, coolest clothes were reserved for just two days of the week. It may seem bleak, but for those already battling a torrent of obstacles to break into these exclusive industries, removing the pressure to dress a certain way could open some doors.