Workwear, luxury t-shirts, and the long tail of the "Protestant Ethic"
It’s taken me a while to get around to it, but I’ve been wanting to react for a while to a Guardian article last year which claimed that the Disney Plus show The Bear, is actually a show about men’s fashion more than anything. If restaurants in London selling branded ‘service’ clothing as merch, or chef’s trousers becoming a fashion statement are any indication, I have to agree that the show has definitely captured (and amplified) the zeitgeist. The article points out how much centers around fashion, and the way that attention to detail can be captured in clothing. Ultimately, it also provides a mirror for the current vogue of wearing minimalist, unbranded cotton basics and tough-wearing canvas and denim workwear to the office, to the bar, or to the park - basically anywhere but to do labor that might have originally required them.
Borrowing a quote from the Guardian article, ‘ “At the risk of sounding corny, I think he wears things that have been appealing for generations because they’re associated with a kind of rugged, working-class masculinity,” says Derek Guy. “Costume designers have relied on these styles for ever to signal a kind of gritty, working-class persona. It fits into a ‘moment’, although I don’t think that this moment ever really goes away. Workwear has been popular for ever. The constant in menswear is this desire always to look more relatable.”’ The interpretation here is that this trend overall reflects a desire to be ‘relatable’ and down to earth, that we are all seeking a bit more humility and simplicity in our lives. This is likely true as we’ve been hit repeatedly with economic, social, and cultural storms that make simplicity and comfort feel safe and appealing. The sentiment is also reflected in the vogue for ‘eat the rich’ pop culture like The Menu and Triangle of Sadness - nobody wants to seem out of touch with the common person. But in fact the appeal also seems to be much more layered. Firstly in the case of the vintage selvedge denim and German-made tshirts in The Bear, it is ‘relatability’ that isn’t by necessity but rather is signalling a choice to forego the traditional trappings of wealth, whilst still having the best. Secondly that willingness to forego - or determination to reject - traditional symbols of wealth is an eliteness of its own, one that in the end still symbolises capitalist attainment.
For anyone who has spent any time in Hackney, or really any trendy neighborhood, it would be hard to deny the rise of workwear as a clear fashion trend. By now Carhartt, particularly the Carhartt WIP brand, is a shining example of this, essentially taking on the role of a luxury fashion label with a growing retail footprint selling clothes and accessories intended more for the look than the functionality (they look great, but nobody will be welding in white trousers). Boutiques dedicated to a more ‘authentic’ lifestyle are stocked with niche, specialised brands known for producing the best of everyday basics, particularly the white tshirt, some of which retail for £60. Even on the less luxury pricepoint end, brands like Organic Basics and Colorful Standard specialise in, well, basics and standards, but without any imagery, special details, and using weighty organic cotton of a high quality: basics but make it better. And this “best quality” is important - as the Guardian points out, in discussions about how to replicate the fashion on The Bear, “everyone else weighed in on how to get the signature white T-shirt, with emphasis on the specific weight of the material, loop of the collar and cut on the arms and body. Two brands were identified: Whitesville and Merz b. Schwanen.”
While these are extremely subtle details, it’s often the details that make the most difference. Fashion has always been linked with social status, and we are all to some extent subconsciously trained to make micro-judgements on what people are wearing, and what it says about them. The cut and fit of a garment, the weight of the fabric, the texture of it all subtly demonstrate how much someone spent on it, their taste, their cultural allegiances, and how they want to think of themselves. Even if you can’t see that the cotton is organic, you can see that there is better quality thread and more care put into the construction of a tshirt (admit it, you can if you look).
Sociologically speaking, this is simply a new form of status signalling that simultaneously shows of taste and wealth while firmly rejecting the expectations of a previous generation. While those who had status before may have valued City jobs that required suits, ties, and high heels, those who need to claim it by other means are redefining what counts as aspirational. Like so many things in the past decade, it is a kind of “we are not you, and the rules of what is valuable have changed” statement as Millennials were forced to renegotiate wealth and traditional life milestones. (And yes, the parallels with ‘natural wine’ are aplenty.) So while workwear, or the perfect weight white tshirt, may be ‘relatable’ and show a kind of rejection of traditional class signifiers, it is at the same time a status symbol of its own.
As the same article pointed out as well, the irony is, of course, that the jobs that require workwear are rarely economically valued enough for their practitioners to fill a closet with £60 tshirts. The cut of a French worker jacket signals the alignment, but can you really do much ‘work’ when it’s made out of mohair? (Not to say that it’s not a beautiful garment either way.) Whether it’s physical labor, a craft, or working in the service industry, the reality is generally not as glamorous as the idealised fashion iteration would make it out to be. So whilst it’s a wonderful thing to consider living more simply, making do with less of better quality, and showing an interest in new industries and professions, the workwear trend quickly tips over into a kind of appropriation that bears consideration.
Going further with the specialist white tshirts, however, I think there is something else interesting at play. Particularly in the tech industry, dressing minimally, casually, and in a kind of personal ‘uniform’ has become an important signifier of seriousness and dedication to success. Many tech CEOs have been known for their pared-back uniforms, perhaps most famously Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg. This style of dressing is, so many say, practical in that it frees up time and headspace for more work, rather than having to choose what to wear. This of course has a symbolic value as well, of a work ethic and a philosophy of intellectual thought over ‘frivolous’ fashion and surface image.
It is, essentially, showcasing your disdain for the ‘worldly’ in favor of a higher purpose, and one that will bring you success in one of the highest-valued sectors of the economy. It surely goes without saying that this philosophy was not developed by founders of tech companies. And whilst a current fad appears to be claiming a dedication to Stoicism, it also shares parallels with the sombre, humble clothing worn by pious Protestants such as the Puritans in the early American colonies, or the clothing described at Lowood School in Jane Eyre. Simplicity in dress, at least in many cultures and particularly I’m thinking of in the US and UK, is often equated with a kind of moral superiority. A determination to eschew any ‘earthly delights’, outward display of wealth, or dedication to ‘beauty’ (or the pomp and circumstance of Catholicism, in the case of the Puritans) shows outwardly that one is more focused on the inner spiritual and intellectual life, more righteous and more ‘saved.’ And as Max Weber famously illuminated, thanks to the long cultural tail of Calvinism, this spiritual goodness and financial success are often deeply interconnected.
And so we come back to grey cashmere sweaters, Lanvin sneakers, and thick cotton tshirts with special attention paid to the stitching and neckline binding. Not only is life easier if you don’t have to choose what to wear every day, but it seems it’s necessary to be almost ostentatiously simple in order to reassure yourself and others that you are successful, and have earned or deserve the status you have through an inner superiority. Essentially, there remains a cultural value on signalling humility and a refusal to be too ‘frivolous’ in dress - and an ongoing perception that doing so makes one more successful, harder working, and intellectually ‘better’ - but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also make it obvious that you have the best of the basics. This trend of idealised simplicity seems to be pulling through a running cultural thread that has appeared and disappeared over the centuries. Making sure you have the right brand of tshirt, with the best material and the best attention to detail is again another way to showcase a taste and status, with the double value of also feeling a sense of moral and intellectual superiority.
Not that I think any of this is all necessarily a bad thing - in fact I’m thrilled that people who can afford to do so want to spend their money on high quality, ethically made garments and want to pay attention to fabric quality and construction. It’s probably something the world needs right now. But it never hurts to interrogate the ‘whys’, and interrogate what trends represent, and how participating in them impacts culture. What I mean is, by all means buy those organic tshirts, but don’t let it stop you from expressing yourself or having fun with your clothing. Simplicity can be as much a ‘surface’ signal as the brightest, frilliest dress, and I think what really matters is that we dress authentically, and for ourselves.
