My sister’s daughter started primary school last September. One morning she asked me to do “uncle uncle uncle” (school run) while she was running late for a meeting. I was fully prepared – hell, I’ve dressed celebrities for photo shoots, advised CEOs on how to dress for business transformation and once calmed down a distraught groom on his wedding day who’d discovered his suit was being stolen when he found another to wear twenty minutes before he was supposed to leave for the ceremony.
But let me tell you now that I thought I was prepared: nothing, absolutely NOTHING could have equipped me for what I was about to encounter at the school gates. Welcome to Dad Mortification 101. It was 8:17am.
I’d been awake for exactly 43 minutes when I joined a queue of parents waiting outside my niece’s primary school, smug in my knowledge that I looked utterly decent for dropping a small human off at school. Slim jeans.
A nice cashmere jumper.
Barbour jacket. Big Alex smug face on. But then I looked at the other dads.
Bloody hell. One half of them looked like they’d been wrestled backwards through a bramble bush (they were wearing tracksuit bottoms. Just as trousers look like underwear, they’re essentially trousers without actual trousers attached).
The others half looked like contestants in some made-for Instagram best-dressed-husband competition. They were wearing outfits that needed WAY more than the four minutes of get-ready time that most of us parents have. “Uncle Alex, why are you wearing that?” my niece asked me as we walked to the car park, head held high and hands deep in the pockets of her almost definitely not-Barbour British Military Parka. “Are you going somewhere nice later?” “No sweetheart, just back to my flat to write about selvedge denim all day.” Mate, if dad mortification was an Olympic sport, THAT was the moment my medals won. But something she said next got me thinking.
After I’d mentally kicked myself for about a mile, she added: “Where’s your hoodie?” Had she hit me with a sackful of bricks, it couldn’t have felt more shocking. “Hoodie?” I responded (note: protect at ALL costs your right to defend yourself). “It’s not hoodie weather, actually. Plus I look way too smart for a hoodie love.” And that was when it hit me. Amongst the dads looking like sloths sleeping outdoors and the ones clearly pledging their undying devotion to Lifestyle Instagram blogs somewhere far, far nicer than where we lived, there was a sliding scale that needed balancing.
I wanted to look like I’d made an effort (we should all strive to look like we made an effort goddamnit) without looking like I’d tried TOO much. Sound familiar? It’s pretty much the equivalent of deciding your text just needs ONE MORE WORD TO MAKE IT SOUND LIKE YOU DIDNT SPEND TEN MINUTES THINKING ABOUT ITTY-BITTY.
The next few weeks (which involved more school runs than usual thanks to aforementioned lateness) found me mentally sizing people up. Are those jeans actually smart casual jeans? How many days have those fitted trainers survived?
Does he “look like a dad” or is that just an acceptable (lazy) Britishism for someone who’s slightly overweight and wears jumpers? WHAT DOES LOOKING LIKE A DAD EVEN MEAN ANYWAY. Anyway.
Long story short: I got kind of obsessed. My niece continued to request and be denied the wearing of hoodies, but through the school run gauntlet I became quietly determined to work out how you could look decent – smart, put-together, adult-human – without LOOKING like you’ve tried. Y’know…when you have about 4.389129801 minutes to get ready yourself, are probably only on about 4.3 hours of sleep and may or may not have Weetabix stuck to your hair.
Enter stage left: my friend Tom. Dad of three boys ranging from seven to two years old. And every.
Single. Morning. looking more put together and human than most of us. Tom laughed when I explained my thesis/mental breakdown about school run dad fashion to him one Monday morning while his youngest tried to feed a stick to a bewildered pigeon. “A uniform,” he said.
Tom has started and successfully run his own business so you know he’s gonna talk like Tony Soprano when he’s giving you advice. “Start yourself a uniform. Now, I don’t mean you need to literally wear a fucking uniform” – here he raises his hands defensively – “but you need stuff that you can just throw together without thinking about it.” Inspired by Tom and his unwillingness to let me wax lyrical about my existential crises for longer than 37 seconds, I set about putting together a list of what I dubbed the “School Run Dad Upgrade.” Easily replicable outfits that look intentional without you actually having to…be intentional about them. Because let’s face it: If there’s one place to test out your new MT01 jeans it’s NOT standing next to a bunch of judgesy parents while your kid runs round a playground.
Below are my handy-dandy, made-life-so-much-easier dad uniform formulas. And because I’ve now found myself trolled into a corner by despairing dads EVERY TIME I drop my niece off (“Alex my wife says I look like I still go university right?” Worn navy shorts with a t-shirt from that pizza place we went to on holiday. ), I thought I’d share them with you too. Let’s start at the top.
1. The Jacket Ok so unless you’re lucky enough to live in California where your kid probably goes to school in the middle of a vineyard, you’re gonna spend 90% of the school year wearing a jacket. Buy a goddamned good one.
Something you can trust. Mid length. Double breasted.
Waxed cotton. Barbour if you’re feeling bullish. Maisieur if Barbour’s a bit too brand heavy for ya.
Highlands150 if you want to splash out on something durable YOUR kids can pass down. The point is, waxed cotton looks worn-in and worn-in is GOOD. Your kids will spill food on it.
They’ll rub mud stains on it entry and exitting the school grounds. Waxed cotton looks better for it. Not a country crofter?
No problem. Any plain navy or khaki chore jacket works brilliantly. Again, it’s about something you know looks good without thinking about it TOO much.
Universal Works do some great ones, again, but they also do pricey as fuck so there are plenty of options at every level. After that, it’s down to tees, shirts, jumpers and denim. Let’s go: 2.
You Might Also Like
Tees & Shirts White, plain, Oxford shirts. Nothing fancy. Under a jumper they’ll hide the dreaded wrinkly, but the collar gives that jumper an upgrade and suddenly you’ve gone from “meh” to “might be in, ahem, marketing.” 3.
Jumpers A crew neck jumper in a neutral colour. Navy, grey, oatmeal, dark green. Doesn’t matter – so long as you CAN layer it over a button up shirt.
These seem obvious BUT they’re easy to sleep wear at night without breaking your Clothing As Statement Piece ethos and hard enough that nobody’s gonna wear the same one as you. 4. Denim Oh, denim.
Where do I start? If you’re doing school runs in the UK RIGHT NOW you NEED a pair of DARK jeans. Dark is the operative word here.
No distressed hems, whiskering or …whatever that ass-clinging slim-leg mum-botherer style is called. Dark. Jeans.
Specifically, dark JEANS. Blackish trouser things aren’t jeans, mate. They might keep you warm, but they aren’t jeans.
Jeans are denim. So get yourself a pair of jeans that are denim AND dark. A slim or straight fit.
Uniqlo do great regular fit selvedge jeans that feel smarter than they cost but if you’re feeling hairy man try and spend £250+ on a pair from Nudie or Edwin. Trust me. They’re worth it.
5. Shoes If you’re reading this thinking “Gee thanks dude jeans AND shoes?” then you haven’t had a child, or you live abroad. White trainers look “smart” for approximately two seconds, until your toddler decides they need to paint their face or you step into a mysterious green smudge that IS DEFINITELY NOT MUCK no matter what your kid tells you.
Get yourself a pair of desert boots or simple leather lace-ups in a mid-brown shade. They hide stains better than literally any other shoe and send a clear message to the Parka Brigade that actually You Give A Fucks About What You’re Wearing. Flats cometh summer time and those manchester downpours?
Clark’s Desert Boots. Ethically made and best options I’ve found. They’re a bit pricey but they will literally last you a decade if you look after them.
Or go cheap as fuck – like all my suede pairs – with Astorflex. Same sustainable, ethical credentials but at about a quarter of the price. Quick hack: black leather shoes with jeans CAN work.
BUT only with slim or straight fit jeans. Bootcut jeans and(pointlessdadfact)jackboots were created together by dads who didn’t give a single fuck about looking like track athletes. The key thing with these combos is the small details.
Wearing a proper watch sends a clear signal that you have places to be, kids to pick up AND, somewhere under all that scruff, a living, breathing fashion-forward human being. Mine is a Tissot – nothing flash, but not an Apple Watch/fitness tracker. It was probably my first “adult” purchase and I love it, despite being scratched to hell.
Look, I know what you’re thinking. ‘HERE COMES YET ANOTHER EXPERT JOBLESS HACKER TELLING US HOW TO DRESS.’ Trust me, I’m right there with you. I work in fashion for fucks sake. Own enough jackets to open my own exclusive denim club.
But here’s the thing… Fuck trends. Wear dark jeans and know you’ll ALWAYS look smart around the school gates. I’ve had parents commend me to my face for turning up not looking like a hiking enthusiast who got lost on their way to work (“Do you work in fashion Alex?
Lovely jacket!”). My sister messaged me to say plenty of other parents had asked where I got my jacket from and Tom’s wife actually chased me around a birthday party to give me a hug and thank me (“Thanks for telling Tom to ditch the Nike shorts – he’s finally found some jeans!”.) Listen: I didn’t specifically tell Tom that Nike shorts were unacceptable (although TBH they kind of are), but like jogging. If you’re doing it, you’re doing it wrong.
Point is, if your local school gate decided to hold an actual fashion show, nobody would come.
But by installing a small formula into your painfully early mornings, you’ll not only immediately up your parent game, you’ll also feel better about getting dressed when you have the WHOLE ENTIRE LIFEOPTIONSOFTHEDAY ahead of you vs maybe two if you’re lucky. Trust me, I get it.
Mornings are absolute SHIT with kids. Barely any sleep, small humans who refuse to get dressed by themselves and dark circles that rival the Periodic Table. If dropping your kid off at school while looking like a hot mess used to give you joy (and I mean NO judgement here if it still does), that high is now replaced with dread.
Will I bummy sack? Is there yoghurt in my hair? Does gap-fever have a foothold in these trousers?
Get yourself sorted, my friends. Sorting yourself = less childcare admin fu to deal with. Oh, and please GOD put trousers on your child’s leggings before you send them out into the wild.
Nobody needs to see that butt.
