I watch him pull on his navy Dickies chinos from the staff room of Greenfields Academy in South London. Durable enough to shrug off paint stains, but sharp enough to pass for smart in front of parents. His oxford shirt may not have been snapped up from an artisan brand showroom but his M&S number has a thread count just above the rest of their range.
His brown suede desert boots are worn – well-worn, even – but that’s half the point. Comfortable enough to spend your day on your feet, but quietly stylish enough to feel like you when everyone else is shuffling around in their sensible-but-dull shoes. I meet Tom and two other teachers throughout the week, learning about how their jobs impact what they wear (and how they don’t).
There’s also doctors and tradesmen – all men who need to look the part, but also have to actually do a physically demanding job in sometimes difficult environments. “How can you look smart at school when kids try and pour ink over your head?” laughs Tom as he rolls up his sleeves. “You need tough clothes you can trust. But that doesn’t mean you can’t look smart doing it.” Why not?
Teachers have to wear smart clothes to school.
Ergo they wear smart clothes. What could be easier? As it turns out, plenty.
Teachers, doctors and tradesmen all told me the same thing when I asked about their wardrobes. They needed clothes they could move in, could trust not to wear out in impossible working conditions and would help them do their jobs without distracting from what’s important: teaching kids, saving lives and keeping the country building. These aren’t influencers, or railway workers I talked to for a similar piece last year.
These are guys who’ve worked out for themselves the uniforms they need to do their jobs well, and look good while they’re doing it. Teachers easily have it worst. They have to command authority in front of kids, but not intimidate them.
They have to look smart but can’t wear clothes so expensive that they’ll freak out if a child wriggles into their trousers. They spend their days running around more than most fitness instructors, but often in school buildings that haven’t been updated since the 1970s, with heating systems that alternate between the Sahara desert and the Arctic Ocean. “You need layers.” Tom starts adding camelelength knit wool from his chair as we walk to his classroom. “I could be freezing in the staff room, then walking into a classroom with all the radiators on and you’re sweatng. Then you go into another classroom where a window doesn’t close so you’re cold again.” Key items for the stylish teacher are mostly uniform: breathable cotton (with just a hint of elastane) chinos, cotton or merino knitwear, and shirt that can withstand being rolled up at eyeball height several times a day.
Most have done away with ties (unless they’re strictly required by their school) in favour of knitwear and open-collar shirts. Teachers spend a lot of time on their feet. “When you buy shoes think comfort over style,” Dan, a teacher I meet at a Manchester secondary school, advises. His Clarks Desert Treks have seen better days but are still roadworthy, having supported him through six years of teaching. “Any cheap shoes and your feet and back will suffer.
Shoes are the one thing I won’t skimp on.” Others Names familiar to Office wear aficionados such as the sturdier end of the Loake range, favoured NBs that err on the heritage side of things, and for the younger guys, well worn Vans or Converse. Ah yes, colour. Dockers and Gap might have provided the backbone of many a school teacher’s wardrobe in the 90s and 00s, but modern teachers express their personality through subtle variations in colour.
Earthy tones are popular among history teachers: Dan, who teaches at a Bristol comprehensive school, owns an impressive amount of olive, rust and tobacco gear that wouldn’t look out of place in a BBC documentary about the 1940s. Science teachers favour darker colours (“you get chemical spills.. it’s inevitable,” says one chemistry teacher) while English department teachers Tom and I know gravitate towards navy, burgundy and forest green. “Book jacket colours,” quips Tom. Across town I meet Dr Asif at the Royal London Hospital.
A GP with a childcare firm on his CV and a dresser that makes him look like he could spend all day in the NHS. The key to his effortlessly cool hospital wear? Uniform. “I have about five of the same outfit,” he says laughing.
White shirts (he owns about ten in neutral colours with subtle texture differences), tailor fitted trousers in navy or grey, and reliable shoes that can be wiped down after rounds. His shirts are from Thomas Pink – bought on sale. “They’re the only shirts I’ve found that can survive wearing all day and still look crisp.” He also swears by Uniqlo jeans as an alternative to trousers – “They’re as good as wearing jeans!” he exclaims. Doctors echoed a similar desire for easily-maintained clothes that don’t restrict movement.
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Most said they haven’t worn a white coat since medical school, favouring high-temp laundry items without extra flourishes that could collect bacteria. “I need to look crisp and clean because I need patients to trust me,” explains Dr James, an A&E doctor. “But I also need to be able to drop into a sprint if someone collapses.” Formal enough to convey confidence and competence, but not so formal that patients are intimidated or worry they’re going to be financially cleaned out. Each doctor had similarly adopted what one cardiologist described as “smart casual with purpose”. Dress trousers from Spoke or Uniqlo with some stretch for comfort, plain shirts with subtle patterns and good shoes.
Ones that feel comfortable but can still be worn with trousers rather than jeans. Sticks and watches were another area where doctors let some personality shine through. Dr Asif sports a practical Seiko automatic with a second hand (handy for checking pulses) but chosen in part because of his interest in watches. “It’s probably the first thing patients notice about how I dress,” he explains. “But it works in my favour because a lot of the older men I have in start conversations about my watch.
As long as it helps me help my patients, right?” The biggest surprise, though, was reserved for when I visited some British tradesmen. Where I expected safety vests, dungarees rolled up to their bum cracks and function over fashion at all costs, I instead met highly trained professionals with carefully considered clothing they could trust not to let them down. “There’s this image of builders wearing clothes that do nothing other than cover their bits with paint all over them,” says Mike, an electrician who wears what can best be described as extremely fashionable technical wear. “I wear slacks off job and most of us take pride in how we look. We’re working in people’s homes, after all.” Mike’s go-to work clothes are Dickies or Carhartt work trousers (“They’re pricey but last years and a day.
The pockets are huge too and actually serve a purpose, rather than hanging around your waist”) with fitted, branded base layers rather than plain old tees. “They keep you sweat free and, lets be honest, look smarter too. No-one wants a greasyBuilder-Christian leaning over the kitchen sink.” His outer layer of choice? A Patagonia gilet over his base layer. “It may seem high end for someone crawling around roofs but it’s ideal for the job.
Keeps my core warm, my arms free, doesn’t catch on anything and folds down small when I need to throw it in my backpack. Lasted me about four years of daily wear too, where the cheaper options would’ve fallen apart.” The tradesmen I spoke with all noted how workwear has become stylish, then been altered to satisfy said style-conscious consumer’s needs… then been reclaimed by the people who actually do the jobs they were designed for. Pete, a carpenter who took over the family business three years ago, showed me his dad’s old battered work jacket. “His was functional and that’s it.
Now I’ve got clothes that actually protect me but also don’t look rubbish when I’m out meeting clients, or grabbing a beer after work without needing to change.” Tradesmen invest heavily in footwear. Rob, a plumber who’s Timberland Pro boots look unfairly clean for someone in their profession told me he has two pair: “ones for the van, ones for the job. These I’ll keep nice for when I’m client-facing.
Footwear is important in our line of work because if you hurt yourself you can’t work. So… sound styleful?” When it comes to clothes that withstand the rigours of manual labour, these guys know what works and what’s just bluster. Functional wear built to last has come full circle, and workingmen have lead the charge.
The recurring theme throughout teachers, doctors and tradesmen I spoke to is they don’t wear “work uniforms” so much as adopt a uniform of sorts. They’ve rejected heavily branded work-wear in favour of pieces that allow for versatility, but still fill the requirements of their job. Tech fabrics pioneered by outdoor enthusiasts decades ago are now showing up in workplace wardrobes.
Brands catering towards construction workers and labourers are designing clothes that fit better and look better than ever before.
And nobody I spoke to shied away from injecting some personality into their wardrobe, be it through watches, brighter coloured clothing or interesting textures. What’s abundantly clear when talking to these people about their wardrobes is they don’t blindly follow trends.
They work out what works for their situation and stick to it, investing in pieces that will last rather than constantly replacing cheap clothing. If there’s one takeaway from all this, it’s understand your own needs and buy clothes that directly respond to them. “Buy better, not more.” Tom’s words of wisdom for new teachers rings true for anyone, in any profession. “Figure out where your pain points are during the day and adapt your wardrobe accordingly. And also kids notice.
You might not get told you look smart but they notice you don’t look smart if you’re not dressed right.” As we finish up our morning at Greenfields I see Tom stride confidently through the crowded hallway between lessons. Desert boots kicking quickly over the floor as he jumps between students. Shirt sleeves neatly rolled to uniformity, cardigan discarded on account of the now-boiling hallway.
It’s not designer wear but it’s been chosen with care, and that shows. He’s found comfort in the chaos. And if that’s not what we’re all trying to achieve with our wardrobes, I don’t know what is.
