Washington maintains a strict dress code that is impossible to miss. Everyone is wearing either fancy business attire or “athleisure wear” — there’s no in-between.
People look as if they are either going to work or to the gym, even if they were really just going to Trader Joe’s or the nearest Starbucks.
I studied women’s fashion especially intensely. I needed to unlock the secrets for what kind of attire is appropriate for the office, networking events, the bar scene, everything.
In the five months since I moved here, I have determined that D.C. is where stylistic individuality goes to die. Harsh words. But when it comes to adhering to the narrow confines of acceptable office attire, the choices for women are particularly restrictive and ultimately squash individual expression.
Constantly I find myself peering into my closet, deliberating what I should wear that day. What would, anywhere else, take me seconds to decide, now takes serious contemplation.
Are open-toed shoes acceptable for this networking event? Doubtful.
Is this dress too casual? Probably.
Will these flats give me blisters? Most definitely.
While it is normal and reasonable to follow a set of guidelines for appropriate work attire, the nature of D.C. itself as a stuffy, politically charged swamp permeates into how we dress. This is most difficult for women, as what we wear is scrutinized no matter where we find ourselves.
Famed Nigerian writer and feminist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie said it best about Western culture: “Women who wanted to be taken seriously were supposed to substantiate their seriousness with a studied indifference to appearance.”
If you, a woman, dress too well, people will not take you seriously. But if you are too casual or not put together enough, it means you don’t take yourself seriously.
It’s the ultimate conundrum, and it is suffocating.
Culture writer Cintra Wilson agrees. A woman’s style in D.C. will fall into either the category of “dowdy” or “slutty,” with virtually no grey areas.
“All women, no matter how attractive or plain, no matter how many postgraduate degrees they have, or how well they fly fighter planes, walk an inescapable fashion tightrope.”
If there existed a Ground Zero where women’s sovereignty in fashion goes to die, it would be Ann Taylor. Inside the doors of every Ann Taylor store, one finds the perfectly tailored uniform for the Working Woman.
Ann Taylor is safe. Ann Taylor is appropriate. Ann Taylor is also suffocating and boring.
Of course, not every single D.C. woman cares so deeply about her wardrobe. Not every woman so intrinsically links expressing her personality through her shoes. But a certain amount of effort and planning is required, especially for those of us working in the government or private sector.
Even in social settings, I can feel my desire for what I want to wear becoming overpowered by the unspoken rules for what is acceptable or appropriate given the occasion. When I replaced my favorite oversized jean jacket I found in a kilo shop in Rome for a simple, yet structured black blazer, I could almost feel my soul caving in.
What we wear is a statement in of itself, whether we like this to be the case or not. And the stakes are higher for women. We must simultaneously adhere to cultural and office norms, the expectations of others, the horrendous D.C. weather and our budget.
Failing to conform to these deeply ingrained norms means failure to demonstrate your worth to the rest of the world. And that worth can be found within the stitches of an $80 chevron cardigan. I located one. At Ann Taylor.
Perspectives expressed in op-eds are not those of The Daily Caller.