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Perhaps it was the fact that the midday heat one day this month actually dissolved the glue keeping my sandals together. I hobbled from Tube to office nonetheless, but they may be toast. Or it may have been the gentleman on a Central Line train whose decision to sport a three-piece suit in green Irish tweed was oddly in keeping with his ruddy face and reading matter. The book he held up defiantly bore the title A Snowball in Hell. It made me melt just sitting near him.
Whatever moment it was in which I truly snapped, plunging into the cauldron that is the red line into the City during a London heatwave has made me question the summer workwear choices of the capital’s commuters.
In this heat, for which neither Londoners nor our transport network are truly prepared, there is a tendency to let it all hang out — literally. I’ve seen people not even bother to do up the fastenings on their too-tight jeans. Less muffin top, more entire bakery on show.
But if Grayson Perry can be congratulated by Hello! magazine for “rocking” his airy crocs at a reception hosted by the King, maybe we should consider it’s OK for the rest of us to rock up in espadrilles and shorts?
Clearly our friend in the tweed suit is a rare exception in sticking to what’s smart, if uncomfortable. I did compliment another gentleman on his formal attire the other day — but he was a Freemason. Even the youngsters in his Lodge enjoy dressing smartly, he told me, adding that he appreciates the relief from wondering what is acceptable post-Covid office garb. “When it became smart casual, it was a nightmare,” he complained. “Is it jeans? Is it chinos?”
To me, male work attire seems like a sweaty nightmare all year round — they need some billowing options too. Chaps look great in sarongs, so I’d support revisiting David Beckham’s 1990s experiment with this classic piece. But others balk at such laid-back looks — we all have our red, sweaty lines to draw. Sensing disapproval, I’ll limit my observations to female clothes, as they adapt to London’s unusual heatwave.
Personally, I dislike shorts at work — certainly on me but also on pretty much anyone else. I know other global cities do see shorts and jackets as a thing. But we are too far from the coast to make this reasonable here. Are you an actual lifeguard? Well stop it then.
Perhaps the answer is to reconfigure what’s at the back of the wardrobe. I’ve noticed that sandals of all sorts, even elevated flip-flops (leather, flatform, embellished in some way), are being employed by many Londoners to dress down occasion wear for the office. This means that, for example, smart but floaty dresses, maybe bought for a wedding or a big party, can be redeployed as aerated daywear. Clever. When employing this device myself, I do worry that it’s slightly too close to the “trad wife” aesthetic. But if you can concentrate better on your work because your body is suffering less, then maybe a temporary exception can be made for frills and furbelows.
So ultra-feminine garb gets a summertime office corridor pass (minus the strappy heels and fascinator obviously). But the most elegant options for women that I’ve seen so far are adaptations of that sweltering gentlemen’s suit — a masculine waistcoat but in cotton or linen and worn sans shirt and tie, often with matching wide or baggy trousers. It’s a little bit action-movie heroine and a little bit tongue-in-cheek Gordon Gekko. Glamorous and with plenty of ventilation.
The old adage was that you should dress for the job you want, not the one you’re in — in the case of this pared-back tailoring, it’s a fantasy of becoming Hayley Atwell. Fine and very dandy. But what are we to make of commuters who have abandoned all standards in this extreme heat?
I would argue it’s still a signifier of ambition — just not of the usual sort. They’re travelling to and from jobs they quite clearly want to leave behind for the beach or the back-garden barbecue. And it certainly gives all those headlines about the return of shoulder pads a reality check.
The only thing I would say is that this outward expression of the seasonal “quiet quit” should not extend to personal hygiene. You have been warned.
