Dress smart, survive longer working it out in the office

Last summer, I had dinner with a dozen British and Italian insurance managers in Rome. In desultory fashion, we discussed the weather (hot) and the economy (not so hot) until someone raised the subject of socks.

Suddenly the evening sprang to life: the men pushed their chairs back from the table and rolled up their trouser legs. Each British man was wearing a low sock that ended three or four inches above the ankle, each Italian had his calf covered in a finely spun sock that went up to the knee. Each nationality stared at the other's socks in uncomprehending horror.

I thought of these insurance experts the other day when I read a New York Times blog in which a fashion writer advised men what to wear on the day they get the sack. "The perfect termination outfit should feature professionalism and employability as the top note, but with accents of confidence and an aftertaste that leaving the premises means moving on up. A sober suit with a bright shirt is perfect." 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 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. At a conference in London last week 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 so if they think suits are in, they are in. The casual look, which we used to celebrate as a sign of egalitarianism, 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. 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.

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 on sale rail at Gap Kids (size XL). Now I wear jackets and heels and make up 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 impress anyone else but I do impress myself. And that, surely, is a good start.

- Financial Times