As I started my first full-time job in 2016 and observed the people around me in my corporate office, I took notice of the men, including myself, wearing essentially the same manner of clothing every day: a collared shirt with straight pants; and on a casual day, a T-shirt and jeans. This monotony was not something I had really paid much attention to in the past—but now that I was spending so much of my time in the workplace, I could not help but realize how narrow the Western professional dress code for men is. Meanwhile, the ladies are free to flaunt their straight or flared skirts, skinny or flowy pants, and every silhouette in between!
This isn't totally at the fault of male consumers: retailers also simply tend to not offer as wide of a range of options for menswear, especially for the workplace. But these businesses know that men overall do not care to stray from traditional styles, so why would they try to sell something more unique when likely no customer will buy it?
Funnily, before entering the workforce, I cared little about this topic: during college, my sense of fashion, essentially comprising of plain T-shirts and jeans carried over from high school, did not adopt much of any new sophistication that could have been expected with moving to New York City or attending an unconventional institution like The New School. In hindsight, however, I think that this apathy was reactionary: surrounded by many of my peers donning more quintessentially-New-York urban or avant-garde clothes, I may have instinctively wanted to maintain my reserved Midwestern style, if you will, as an instant and easy declaration of who I am and how I was raised.
But since graduating, that indifference has transformed into a boldness, this time respondent to my new atmosphere of a less eccentric, more homogeneous workplace. I found myself unsatisfied appearing like every other male-identifying employee around me—and, perhaps also missing a touch of that creative spirit I felt while attending university, I began to realize that clothing was a way to express the more imaginitive, quirky sides of my otherwise quiet personality. So I dove into the Internet and branched out: in August of 2016, I purchased a black-denim jumpsuit from Standard Issue and wore it to work. I felt an underlying sense of discomfort as I walked around in a one-piece, a usually unheard-of choice for men in public—but I also experienced a new sense of self-confidence, being pushed to embrace the rebelliousness and unconventionality that my garment intrinsically represented.
I acknowledge that I may be allowed some implicit freedoms given my position as a designer: professionals in executive or sales or marketing roles work differently and often need to consider how they appear to clients and the larger business world, so I can understand how men with these jobs should stay on the safer, innocuous side of fashion. But, as a young creative, I can afford to take some risks, and I relish the opportunity to do so, if to at least add some color to a world in which people tend to stick with their comforts.