Dressing the part

For some, 'business casual' can mean not looking so good in golf clothes

There were days the company cafeteria couldn't be distinguished from the parking lot at Ozzfest. (Sarah Brezinsky Photo for The Boston Globe/File 2005)

When they told me not to wear a suit to the interview, I knew the "business casual" trend had gone too far.

Having survived the first three rounds of interviews for a VP position, I was anxious to make the right impression at corporate headquarters. The recruiter told me the dress was business casual. Great. I knew I'd be asked the bogus "tell me about your three biggest shortcomings" question. I didn't expect that one of the shortcomings I'd reveal would be how awful I look in golf clothes.

It used to be so much easier to dress for work. For men, it was a tailored suit, shirt and tie. For women, it was a tailored dress or suit, hosiery, and closed-toe pumps. Jewelry was minimal. Arms were never exposed. And while the occasional woman pushed the envelope by wearing shoes a shade lighter than her hemline, the rules were clear. And people conformed.

Today, not so much. Starting with casual Fridays, the entire notion of business dress has changed so much there were days I couldn't distinguish the company cafeteria from the parking lot at an Ozzfest. While freedom from the tyranny of neckties and panty hose is welcome, I liked it better when I wasn't privy to personal piercing habits, tummy tattoos, or feet best left covered by heavy socks and shoes.

Business casual has always confused me. There's certainly nothing casual about business. People who take business casually generally get fired. A European manager we had used a different term, "smart casual," to describe the dress code for an offsite. There was much discussion about what this really meant. One enterprising marketing manager left T-shirts imprinted with the words "smart and casual" in each attendee's hotel room. We were instructed to wear these shirts to demonstrate unity. Imagine the VP's cha grin when he arrived at the meeting and realized he was the only one whose shirt simply read "casual." No matter what you call it, the results are often messy.

During the Blizzard of '78, Governor Dukakis wore a casual sweater for his TV appearances. This was virtually unheard of. The message was, "relax, stay home, and don't go to work until the roads are clear." Mister Rogers used his cardigan the same way -to signal the end of the work day and time to chill out at home. Casual clothes meant exactly that. It's not that work should be a signal to stress out. But, it wouldn't top my list as a place to relax. Why would I dress that way?

Everyone can't be six feet tall with a commanding physical presence. Business suits leveled the playing field for everyone else. One senior executive I knew was never taken seriously after he removed his suit jacket. (Or maybe it was after he circled the floor trailing a roll of toilet paper from his pants?) But while clothes don't make the man, clothes can make people focus on the person's professional attributes rather than their physical shortcomings.

Casual business dress, for me, brings new meaning to the expression "too much information." The painted-on golf shirt, the office version of the wet T-shirt contest, is one of the worst offenders. When I'm sitting in a meeting, I'd like to focus on what the person has to say. Work is depressing enough without realizing my male co-worker is better endowed than I am. Buttoned-down shirts with ties may have been confining, but they left some things to the imagination. Scary things.

One of the most garish business casual ensembles I've seen was at a management review. A gentleman with a penchant for gold jewelry wore a green velour track suit. Under the fluorescent lights in the conference room, he looked like a walking sinus infection. This man was a chief executive, but I don't think anyone heard a word he said because they were working so hard not to giggle. In business attire, this guy could have been mistaken for a presidential candidate. In velour, he just looked like an idiot.

But poor taste in business casual is not limited to men. I remember one woman who showed up at a sales meeting wearing a halter top and hot pants. We were pretty certain her territory wasn't downtown Boston's former notorious LaGrange Street, but, with that outfit, it was difficult to determine what she was selling. An otherwise intelligent and talented woman, she will be forever remembered as "Trixie," the nickname she acquired at that meeting. And any woman who thinks her wardrobe won't hurt her should Google "Hillary Clinton" and "cleavage."

While much of this is common sense - bare midriffs, exposed thighs, skin-tight clothing have no place in the office - the newly acceptable options are pretty limiting. You may know that you don't look professional in casual clothes, or that sportswear doesn't suit you, but, if you wear suits or other serious attire, you are perceived as a snob, or someone who doesn't fit in. The old rules may have been confining, but, business casual is just as confining in a different way.

As a petite woman, I've searched for ways to appear managerial wearing business casual. Unfortunately, golf clothes were not designed for women. Khakis and polo shirts make me look like Saturday Night Live's androgynous Pat enroute to a tea dance.

When people run for president, they need to look presidential. When I interview for an executive position, I want to look like an executive. There's a reason they don't sell Godiva Chocolate in a Sam's Club bag. It may be just as good, but, I'm never going to buy it.