by Ted Sherman

Created on: May 24, 2007

In 1969, I was financially fortunate, but managerially unfortunate, to be promoted to division boss of a creative team of 40 writers and artists. We worked in a large financial company that had been in business for a hundred years.

During most of those years, the company dress code was not a problem. From the first day on the job, we understood that it was modest dresses for the women and suits and ties for the men. However, when freedom of all kinds of behavior burst out of Woodstock in the late 60s, it naturally infected dress codes everywhere.

It was particularly influential in the new attitudes and thinking of the creative types in my division. I had personally lived the stages of the tattered, paint-splattered artist living in a garret when earning my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Advertising Design. However, I had worked my way up with further grad studies in public relations, and after working in industry, and rising through the ranks, I had become the typical "suit" in both dress code and closed corporate mind.

Dress codes have their advantages, because it makes for a more formal working atmosphere. It also has an effect on maintaining discipline. When I was in the Navy, I never thought about wearing anything other than the strictly specified uniform of the day. However, with today's so-called "ghetto" clothing for boys and "hooker" styles for girls so popular among teenagers, I can understand why business management may be forced to instill some specific limits in employee dress code.

In my division, as the hippie clothing and hair styles spread throughout the nation, my attitude and those of my creative staff were soon at odds. The opening salvo began when one brave young artist showed up at work one day wearing neither coat nor tie. And to make his revolutionary statement more effective, he walked in sporting open-toed sandals.

I was more amused than angry, and laughingly told the guy he had made his point, and to dress properly the next day. I thought nothing of it until a stuffy vice president grabbed me in the hallway later in the day and said those painful words no ambitious manager wants to hear, "Can't you control the members of your staff?"

I had to fight some more displays of casual dress, and did relent to allow the writers and artists to wear relaxed clothing while in their work compartments. However, they still had to arrive in the morning and depart at night wearing the approved clothing. Then, just when it looked like peace was restored in the workplace, suddenly the enemy forces hit me with a new kind of attack. It was from the female troops. Miniskirts! Not only miniskirts, but also the dreaded hot pants era had arrived!

If I may be allowed a sexist remark here, I certainly had no personal complaint. Two beautiful young secretaries who worked with me daily were great looking in normal business dress, but in hot pants they were absolutely breathtaking. However, after several warnings from senior executives and insincere lectures from me, the secretaries called off the attack and returned to the normally boring dress code. I think I was much more sad than satisfied that office rules had prevailed over bare thighs.

Our dress code compliance continued through the years, although by the 1970s and into the 1980s, styles became more informal in all business situations. Fortunately, someone came up with the idea of Casual Fridays. The employees in my division were allowed to express their sartorial creativity once a week. I also had hoped that the short, short miniskirt and hot pants would come back in style, but unfortunately, they never did.

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