On my first visit to meet my ex-girlfriend’s parents I made the mistake of wearing a suit. A charcoal three-piece suit that I had recently purchased for office functions where I needed to look suitably sharp. You know, the kind of suit that makes you look like a funeral director or someone who’s about to read their wills.
We were meeting them at a village pub in Derbyshire over Sunday lunch; there was a Labrador asleep at the fireplace and retired couples nursing the same pint they’d started thirty years ago when Thatcher first came to power. Her father – an immensely likeable, no-nonsense, country lad who worked with his hands and thought suede trousers were the work of the Devil – looked me up and down and uttered five words that have haunted my relationship memories ever since: “Bit fancy for a Sunday roast, aren’t ya?” I wilted throughout the meal, roasting away uncomfortably on a wooden bench in suit trousers that weren’t made to rest on timber furniture. Trying to look casual.
My girlfriend told me afterwards that her dad had asked if I was “always that smart”, which in northern dad speak meant “fuck this guy, he’s not good enough for my daughter.” I’ve been writing about men’s style for fifteen years now. You’d think I’d have the whole “what to wear where” thing mastered by now.
But there are a handful of situation that still catch me out like some dress-code wine dodging toddlers.
Visiting family – specifically the in-laws – is one of them. It exists in its own style purgatory. Lean too far one way and you’ll look like you couldn’t be arsed.
Skedaddle over to the other side and suddenly you’re trying too hard. Wear the wrong shiny thing and you’ll have your mother-in-law asking you why you’re “showing off” before her own son. Since the Sunday lunch debacle of 2016 I’ve experimented with hundreds of variations on the pub lunch with the in-laws outfit.
Okay, probably not hundreds. But enough to at least have some idea of what works and what doesn’t. Somewhere along the way, it became something of an obsession.
Every new potential partner is met with the same questions from me “Where are we going? Who are we seeing?” If the answer involves family in any way then it’s straight down to the wardrobe to start pulling ensembles together. Ready to face Manchester Bridge on her parental home turf?
Better hope dad hasn’t invited the rounders team over for tea as well. You’d be forgiven for thinking that, after all these years, I’ve got it down to a fine art. Sadly, that’s not quite the case.
But I do have a general framework when it comes to navigating these family minefields. In fact, so ingrained are my thought-processes that I’ve built a bit of a mental flowchart to help me decide what’s appropriate where. Bloke Goes to See Partner’s Family (that’s not his own) Who Lives Outside Greater London?
Start at node A. It all starts with intention. An in-law weekend lunch needs to communicate certain things without you having to spell it out.
Mainly that you respect them and the occasion enough to have made an effort, but you’re also casually cool enough to roll with whatever insanity their particular clan has cooked up for the day. All garments should serve those two objectives above. Which means: no standing out.
No taking massive fashion risks. Be aspirational but not to the point they’ll think you’re mocking their lifestyle by wearing a Chanel hoodie and a yacht owner’s hat. If they’re the sort of people who rent streams instead of own them then showing up in Richard Quinn trousers will not work in your favour, trust me.
You want to look like someone who cares about how they dress but not at the expense of alienating your boyfriend’s grandma. Another way of thinking about it is this: when you meet the parents you want them to admire your outfit enough that they won’t forget what you looked like, but not so much that they’ll forget what you’ve said. Texture is your friend.
Aim for clothes that feel nice to touch. Not silky, just worn-in and natural. Worsted wool trousers, linen shirts, cotton jumpers.
That sort of thing. Spend a little time getting to know your fabrics, they’ll teach you a lot about what works and what doesn’t. Silhouettes should similarly whisper subtle confidence.
Nobody likes a groomed asshole. Especially your boyfriend’s Nan. Start with a shirt you can trust.
Plain cotton or linen shirt, in white, cream or light blue. With a button-down collar. Not too crisply ironed, not too creased.
Button-down collars are the Goldilocks zone of shirt collars and are absolutely fundamental to getting any kind of menswear look right. Smart dark jeans or chinos are a solid foundation. Navy, black, charcoal, dark grey.
Or beige. Or olive green. As long as they’re not too light and are well fitted (but not skinny) you can’t really go wrong.
Just double cheque they’re CLEAN. There’s nothing worse than letting someone down on the first date with your parental figures than turning up with stanky trousers. Make sure they’re also FIT.
Please let this become a thing coaches say at the start of football matches. Nothing dates you quicker than ill-fitting clothes, especially around the crotch-region. Unless you’re going for some sort of fashionable displeasure with your body look, tailor your jeans to fit you at the waist.
It’s not that difficult and it makes such a difference. Footwear is almost as important as your choice of denim. Trainers can look OK but usually need to be spotlessly clean white ones.
Dress shoes will often feel too much like you’re trying hard. Again, it comes down to that elusive wearable masculinity; what fits the room? In my experience, desert boots, Chelsea boots or decent leather loafers are your safest bets when it comes to livering/axed teeth.
Something with history and gravitas that complements your outfit rather than shouting over it. I’ve got a pair of Loake suede brogues that I’ve had for years now. Perfectly worn in so they can take a beating if we end up having to traipse through a muddy carpark but not so worn that I worry about them getting ruined.
Adding a knit over your shirt instantly levels up any outfit. A merino crew neck in a solid colour works wonders. If it’s chilly out then a cashmere cardigan will do the job equally as well.
Both exude “I take care of myself” vibes without coming across as try-hard. No loud patterns or ridiculous brand logo boatsheets here. If you’re a bit of a jacket person then you’ve got some decisions to make.
A tweed sports jacket is always acceptable but be careful it doesn’t read too formally. You don’t want to look like you’re still wearing your office attire, or worse still that you thought you were going to a wedding. A waxed jacket works perfectly for more rural excursions.
There’s something about heavy-duty jackets that instantly gives you top-dog dad points with the older generations. Get one with actual holes in it from being repaired so you don’t look like a poser. A battered leather jacket can work too but steer clear of anything heavy-metal or ’72 Dodge Charger related.
If you absolutely must wear a blazer then go for something you’d also wear with jeans; probably something navy. It should feel lived-in and familiar. Elbow patches?
Even better. A jacket that has a story makes people think you’re a cool, adventurous sort of guy. Your accessories should be limited to footwear, a watch, maybe a leather bracelet if you’re into that kind of thing.
Nothing shiny. Don’t even think about wearing a pocket square unless you’re dressing for battle. Ask me how I know this.
Stick to classics and neutral colours. Save the experimetal jacket for hanging out with your mates. Once I wore a mustard yellow jumper to meet my girlfriend’s grandparents and her grandmother spent the whole time affectionately referring to me as “the bright young man”.
Not, it transpired, because I was particularly bright. Sub-context: rural pub with parents who’ve lived there their whole lives. For those trips to Devon to meet your girlfriend’s parents who still live in the village where they grew up.
Embrace the h_dims. You’re basically playing a role now. But that’s not to say you shouldn’t think carefully about how you want to present yourself.
Barbour, knitwear with leather elbow patches, cord trousers, flat caps. Tweed everything. Photo by Adam Nieścioruk on Unsplash I actually got on really well with my ex-girlfriend’s father after I turned up to a Boxing Day lunch wearing a Shetland wool jumper and moleskin trousers.
Partly because I put down a sizable cash bet on their dog before anyone else and probably mostly because he suddenly realised I was someone he could invite round for a pint and a game of shove ha’penny without feeling out-of-place. Bonus points if you can find a vintage mattress tag shirt. Sub-context: Shoreditch gastropub with ‘modern’ in-laws.
Lucky enough to be dating someone who moved to the big city for uni/sh stopped going/drinks? You can probably get away with raising your game slightly. Swap out the oxford cloth shirt for something knitted.
Polo style is always good. Aim for cleaner lines, you can even get away with wearing something with a subtle logo if their’s are trying to tell you off for wearing that vintage Le Coq Sportif tracksuit. Quality over quantity still applies but you have slightly more licence to experiment with silhouette.
Bonus points if you learn how to tie a Necktie and bring one with you. Trust me, they’ll appreciate it. Sub-context: boozer with working class parents.
Uniform rules for dads and their dads: unless they’re_into that sort of thing, steer clear of fashion-forward colour schemes, deliberate distressing, flashy shoes etc. Generally clean, well fitting basics are more than enough to win anyone over. Keep it simple with a plain lambswool jumper, a pair of good jeans and a pair of clean trainers or boots.
The worst thing you can do is dress in a way that feels too far removed from their sensibilities. You don’t want to appear aloof or like you’re trying to better them. That’s never gone down well in my experience.
Trust me, I’ve made every mistake here. Clothing can speak volumes about you to people who might not understand subtle references to tailoring or fresh-from-the-box trainers the way you do. That trendy washed-out t-shirt that cost three times what it’s worth?
Sure buys likes he’s “into fashion” to your mate but to your boyfriend’s dad he just spent £300 on a load of cotton that someone dyed brown…on purpose. Workwear that subtly appropriates labour-intensive professions? Hardly pushing any boundaries when your girlfriend’s grandfather actually spent 30 years up a cherry tree for a living.
Consider how your clothes will read to someone from a different generation/class/background than yours. And if you’re still unsure, ask your partner! Odds are they’ll let you know if their mum thinks dads with man-bags are lazy jerks or their dad hates seeing pink on men.
My girlfriend warned me that her dad has lived his entire life under the mantra “if anyone mentions a brand I don’t recognise automatically hate it” so I leave my Paul Smith socks at home these days.
Small tip, but that difference between subtle pink and brightly coloured sock showed my girlfriend’s dad that I wasn’t“I understand who I’m talking to” kind of guy. Asking for insights into their parents before you show up to meet them is maybe the best style advice I’ve been given.
And it doesn’t even come from me. The worst that’ll happen is they’ll tell you their dad hates wearing shorts after September or their mum thinks boyfriend wearing pink trousers is unnatural. Easier to avoid ahead of time than explain why you’re wearing compression trousers with a matching vest to meet their son’s girlfriend… Anyway.
Nowadays I basically pull on the same thing when I’m venturing out to meet parents: decent oxford shirt, quality knit, nice jeans or chinos, and some decent shoes. Unless there’s a specific reason to dress up/down I always err on the side of “things my clothing won’t distract from how great I am” as a general rule. And you know what?
It works. 99% of the time. As long as you follow that guiding principal you can’t really go wrong.
Unless their dad likes building sheds and expects you to help with it afterwards. Balls.
