How work took over wardrobes and turned us all beige

When Matthieu Blazy’s first Métiers d'Art collection for Chanel debuted in a disused New York subway station on the Lower East Side last month, the semi-newly minted artistic director was heralded for bringing “a joyful cavalcade of personalities” to the fashion house that had previously been somewhat stuck in a tweed skirt suit rut. Jeans made of silk, billowing black opera capes, sequinned flapper dresses and every type of animal print adorned models as they marched down the platform to pews of elated industry insiders.

Cut to my commute at 7am on a London Monday morning, and the Northern line to Moorgate fails to inspire such delight. As André Leon Talley famously exclaimed in the 2009 fashion documentary The September Issue: “It’s a famine of beauty!” Every passenger, whether a finance bro or marketing manager, is dressed in shades of grey, beige, navy, and white. Neutrals are our uniform — and everyone looks decidedly glum about it. We’re an ashen shoal of moonfish; identical and dull. Turn to the TV, where Sophie Turner stars in Amazon’s new corporate drama Steal, and the style is similarly saddening (trench coats and pale blue button-downs). Couldn’t she even have had a statement shoe?

The holy grail commuter girl uniform is currently as follows: black trousers (jeans if you’re that type of workplace), basic white T-shirt, Longchamp bag, trench coat, Adidas sambas and a claw clip. From South Wimbledon to Soho, you cannot escape the various alternations and reimaginings of the bare bones of this outfit. I see it so often I feel like I’m losing my mind — until one day I’m wearing it too.

“This could be a result of algorithm dressing,” says personal stylist Manisha Sabharwal. “The young professional demographic are consuming very similar content and therefore dressing alike. Plus, this uniform is easy to replicate and it’s highly functional. It’s made up of pieces people already have, so it’s accessible to most.” The look gets so omnipresent that one day, my own father asks me why all the women my age (29) are “dressing like detectives” daily. Really, the only crime here is against self-expression.

One culprit for this monotonous style taking over train carriages and beyond is thought to be the limp economy, as well as the lobotomising power of the internet. “Those pieces are low-risk investment pieces,” explains Sabharwal. “Right now, consumers are really avoiding any dangerous fashion purchases. But the claw clip, for example, is a quick, easy and dopamine-boosting purchase. It’s very easy to justify it. Meanwhile, trench coats, white tees and tote bags are all considered very hard-working capsule wardrobe pieces — that’s what most of my clients are making huge efforts to build.”

When the economy is bad, we change how we look. Brunette hair is more popular than blonde, because it doesn’t cost upwards of £200 to maintain every eight weeks. We opt for sad beige colours because they go with everything. As noticed by Leonard Lauder (the heir to Estée Lauder) in 2001, lipstick sales boom, because they’re a small, affordable treat. Hemlines get longer. High heels get higher and everyone opts for “clean girl” nude-toned manicures so they can grow out unnoticed for weeks.

All of this leaves us looking a little drab. While this phenomenon has been called everything from “90s neutrals” to “frugal chic” — it’s dampening the mood of both the wearers and the witnesses. “Oh my God,” says my American friend visiting from San Antonio, Texas, as she climbs aboard the Northern line. “Everyone looks so sad. What happened?” It’s hard to know where to start.

One phenomenological study found that wearing outfits that people describe as “happy” can correlate with improved well-being, positive emotion, and a stronger sense of identity. Importantly, however, “happy” outfits denote looks that participants felt genuine in. Other research has found that discomfort or dressing in ways that don’t fit self-identity can create incongruence and emotional tension. So, it’s important to find a balance between cheeriness and authenticity. Happy outfits helped participants feel confident and energetic, if they felt like themselves.

Lydia Spencer-Elliott