Dean St. Pierre (left) and Glenn Mayers of Glenn's in Newburyport.
(Pat Greenhouse/Globe Staff)
House dressing
Chefs work hard to express themselves with what they wear as they tailor-make your food
Dean St. Pierre (left) and Glenn Mayers of Glenn's in Newburyport.
(Pat Greenhouse/Globe Staff)
Nantucket chef Angela Raynor remembers a time when wearing jeans into the kitchen was a sure way to ruin your career. And tucking the top of her toque - her tall chef’s hat - into its band to make the hat less dowdy was considered testing the limits of the senior kitchen staff.
What would they say now? Jeans, outlandish shoes, and hats that are nothing like traditional toques are the norm. And if chefs can’t find what they’re looking for, they have it custom made. Classic kitchen whites have been replaced by sleek jackets in black, navy, dark brown, and other luscious colors, short-sleeve utility shirts, all kinds of tie-dye, and just about anything that wraps around a head. Kitchen attire has officially married form, style, personality, even fashion.
As more chefs have opened their kitchens so that diners can watch the cooking, styling, and plating of their food, a room that was once kept a mystery behind swinging metal doors has become public theater for restaurant patrons. Naturally it has followed that the actors onstage - the chefs, cooks, waitstaff, and bussers - dress up in uniforms that reflect the style of the place.
Today’s cooks keep the basic idea of the utilitarian uniform in mind. They want to protect themselves from hot pans and sharp knives, and keep their heads covered. And they are further limited by the need for clothing that withstands heavy use and remains comfortable for long days on their feet.
Traditional jackets have evolved in the last decade, from untailored coats sewn from scratchy material to well-cut items in finer cottons that have more shape. Many chefs who work at stylish establishments and come into the dining room after service to greet customers don’t want to wear mass-produced coats.
“When I’m welcoming people at the restaurant I want to be dressed up,’’ says Jody Adams, chef and owner of Rialto in the Charles Hotel, in Cambridge. She wants her attire to match the diners’. “I don’t need to bring the frenzy of the kitchen into the dining room,’’ she says. Adams has her jackets made, with striking sienna-colored aprons to go on top.
More companies are making chef’s jackets for women, but there was a time when they were so boxy and narrow at the hips they looked awful on all but the slenderest women. Shannon Macklin’s answer to the dearth of what she calls “utilitarian chic’’ attire is her Lincoln-based kitchen-wear company, Shannon Reed. Macklin’s designs are sometimes offbeat, with funky grommets, snaps, unusual collars. “Because it’s a uniform doesn’t mean it has to be devoid of style,’’ she says. “I wanted people to say, ‘I feel good in this. I feel sexy. I feel like I’ve lost 20 pounds.’ ’’
For those who are improvising, like Glenn Mayers, chef and co-owner of Glenn’s in Newburyport, every day is a new day. “I have 30 different hats,’’ he says. “That’s my trademark.’’ His collection includes funky baseball caps with glitter, cowboy hats, straw hats, pork pie hats, an Afghani cap, and a suede fedora with a peacock feather that his bartender recently brought him from Peru.
Mayers typically wears pants with zebra stripes, a leopard print, or Mexican themed designs. His customers often see him in a tie-dyed jacket (he dyed it himself). His shoes are steel-toed and his one kitchen rule is “no shorts.’’
Raynor, the Nantucket chef who is co-owner of The Pearl and Boarding House, has long been known for expressing her style through a rather large collection of clogs made by various companies, including Santina, Dansko, and Restricted. They’re red and black patent leather, pink metallic, and decorated with a Jackson Pollock inspired design. She picks a pair to match the event.
She’s waiting for a custom-made Shannon Reed jacket to arrive. Raynor likes the company’s heavy denim utility aprons because they have a flattering cut and the fabric is comfortable. They come in black denim as well as white, black, and natural canvas, with hefty grommets and plenty of material to wrap around. Yet the design and folds are attractive. Pockets are optional; customers tell Macklin where they want them placed on the fabric.
Raynor ordered them for her entire staff at Corazon del Mar, a new restaurant that she and her husband, Seth, opened on the island this summer. It’s there that he can be seen behind the ceviche bar in, yes, jeans.
For her Shannon Reed designs, Macklin gets inspiration from military uniforms and vintage styles. She has jackets with asymmetrical front plackets, another with antique ring snaps, and one design she calls “trench’’ has an empire waist and slight flair.
Chefs’ uniforms set the tone for a restaurant, which is why Adams, the Rialto chef, has hers custom made. “When I started out I wanted to be recognized as a cook, not as a woman,’’ she says. She was content in the classic boxy, double-breasted jackets.
When she took over Rialto about three years ago, Adams turned to Utica, N.Y.-based Crooked Brook to have aprons and jackets designed. She modeled the sienna-colored aprons after a florist apron she came across in South Africa. And her jacket, with cloth buttons, elegant folds, and sienna piping along the edges, is reminiscent of a kimono. A cloth fold hides the tie on her apron. “There is something about being dressed a particular way that will contribute to how you feel about yourself and how people perceive you,’’ she says. Adams allows her cooks to prep in T-shirts but insists on chef’s jackets during service.
Like a police officer without his uniform, a chef without his coat is just another person in street clothes. Donning official attire is a statement of professionalism. At Sage, in the North End, Anthony Susi wears a jacket “because I’m a chef, first and foremost.’’ Susi has one from Shannon Reed and routinely relies on coats from Chefwear, one of the ready-made uniform companies.
His staff wears flat white surgeon caps because he doesn’t allow baseball caps in his kitchen. Like others who have a partially open work space, Susi believes they need to maintain a professional look.
The head of the kitchen gets to dictate things like a ban on baseball caps. Patrick Barnes, chef and owner at Caffe Bella, in Randolph, forbids slip-on shoes because he says they’re not safe. “I know it’s fashionable,’’ he says. “But it doesn’t allow you to move fast enough.’’ The uniform in his kitchen is khaki shorts and white tops (hospital scrubs); the heat from the wood-fueled oven is intense. Barnes wears a button-down shirt with the restaurant logo. And they all wear aprons. “I think everyone should look good.’’
Andy Husbands, chef and owner of Tremont 647, in the South End, swears by his clogs, popular among many chefs. His are emblazoned with a skull and crossbones design. He’s traditional when it comes to pants: basic checkerboard Dickies. Jackets are all cotton and short-sleeved, a stylish urban look made by San Francisco-based designer Cayson Culinary Designs. The restaurant logo is on the back of the uniforms “to be different,’’ says Husbands. As for head coverings, he says baseball caps are fine. “No Yankees caps, of course.’’
Not all kitchens require standard jackets. Charlie’s Sandwich Shoppe, in the South End, is a place where uniforms are part of history; it’s been in business since 1927. Co-owner Arthur Manjourides says that from the 1920s to the 1950s, waitresses were required to wear traditional white uniforms and jewelry was forbidden. Cooks wore white pants, white shirts, and white caps. Now, they wear blue jeans, black T-shirts with the restaurant logo, aprons, and baseball caps. Waitresses wear black pants, Charlie’s T-shirts, and aprons. “Things are more casual now,’’ says Manjourides.
There’s casual and then there’s casual. Juan Valerio, head chef at Durgin-Park, at Faneuil Hall Marketplace, describes his pants one day as “psychedelic.’’ Each chef (there are more than 20) chooses from many freshly laundered coats and pants on hand at the restaurant when they arrive for work each day. Among the selections are green, black, and white chef’s jackets. “We mix it all together,’’ says Valerio.
You might say that instead of unusual clothing ruining a chef’s career, as it might have when Raynor started out, creating a style is seen as innovative. One thing is certain: The days of “no jeans allowed’’ are far behind. Raynor often wears black yoga pants in the kitchen. With cow-print clogs.
“Instead of being vanilla,’’ she says, “you can be any flavor.’’![]()



