why I wear the same thing every day

Steve Jobs might not be the most obvious style icon for a 25-year-old woman. Don’t get me wrong, I have been known to don a black turtleneck and jeans from time to time — although I like to think of myself as doing it in a chic Parisian way rather than akin to a Silicon Valley tech visionary.

Yet, despite dying in 2011, the Apple co-founder remains an omnipresent influence in the lives of me and my peers, and not just because of our addiction to his neatly designed smartphones. It’s his wardrobe that we’re crazy for — specifically his habit of wearing the same thing every day.

Unlike those peacocking millennials, for many in my generation aspiring to creative office dressing is long gone. Instead it has become the norm to find one formula and stick to it. That could be smart, it could be casual, but whatever it is, and whatever we do, we’re not varying it.

Lotte Brundle in her work uniform

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Let me explain. After a slew of interviews and rejections, when I finally secured my first job after university, the stakes were sky-high. However, after agonising over my outfit for the first day, when I arrived I couldn’t have been more confused.

A senior male colleague who trained me consistently wore jeans, trainers and a kooky pair of bright red glasses. Another only ever wore a suit and tie. Fabulous women from other parts of the office had thrown the rulebook out entirely, stepping into the lifts each morning with expensive-looking dresses and high heels. I had assumed that work was a “no jeans, no trainers” affair but after I had been there for a week I realised that there simply were no rules.

Steve Jobs in 2010

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So I made my own. Off I went to Uniqlo, and grabbed the first pair of smart-casual slacks I found. I bought two pairs — one grey, one black — and a selection of modest neutral tops and cardigans. Thus my base office uniform was born.

It’s not just me. A friend, also a workplace newbie and a colourful dresser in his free time, says that he has one pair of slacks and four shirts that he rotates. My boyfriend has four white and blue pinstriped formal shirts. The classic management consultant quarter-zip antics of my flatmate are a prime example of this codified dressing.

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Another friend, who is applying for jobs in the media, tells me that as a “busty woman” (her words, not mine) she has struggled and so on finding what she liked has stuck to it. Modest tops and smart neutral trousers are her chosen attire for interviews. Another confesses: “At work I just wear the same thing over and over again: black trousers, a white T-shirt and a jumper.”

Why are we doing this? As a young girl I adored films where the ditzy, penniless yet effortlessly glamorous protagonist appeared in a succession of outfits, each more extravagant and office-inappropriate than the last. I remember vividly the first time I saw the scene in The Devil Wears Prada where the aspiring journalist Andy Sachs parades across the screen in a montage of fabulous get-ups on her way to grab a coffee for her editor.

Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada

ALAMY

Yet the reality is that, among male and female friends, being taken seriously is a worry. The job market is volatile and the cost of living is higher than my colleagues’ fabulous footwear choices. According to one recent survey, 75 per cent of companies report that some or all of the recent college graduates they hired this year were unsatisfactory — our reputation (unjust in my opinion) as office-shy skivers precedes us. Perhaps just blending into the background attire-wise leaves us with one less thing to worry about.

Meanwhile, buying a new wardrobe for work is expensive. The world has become wise to fast fashion and sustainably made clothes aren’t cheap. Keeping up with trends is expensive and looking smart for work can be time-consuming — it adds another stress on top of trying to fit in with your older and more established workmates.

A Gen Z colleague who formerly had zest says: “I once got the worst up and down look of my life for wearing a pair of zebra-print trousers in the office. I have now lost my personality and am bereft.”

For many of us, the joy of a pair of striped animal print legs is no longer worth it. Trusty black slacks it is.