From three-piece suits to whatever suits

While thinning out a bloated file cabinet in my study recently, I came across a totally obscure and unintentionally prophetic piece I had written in 1973. It was about how Philadelphia lawyers dressed for work.

At the time, I was the editor of a new weekly tabloid that the Philadelphia Bar Association published and distributed to all members. I occasionally wrote lighthearted editorials for the paper, called the Retainer.

An example was that piece I found, headlined "Cut the Noose!" Having in mind some Philadelphia courtroom on a blistering August day, I pondered why female lawyers could appear in court with "no jacket, no tie, no shirt collar, indeed ... a shirt with no sleeves at all," and the judge would cordially greet them. Nevertheless, the same judge would wrathfully hold a male lawyer in contempt if he appeared in court without a necktie.

The lawyer in me wanted to know "by what right she is allowed to dress sanely in our steambath climate while he is condemned to labor in a workaday outfit by Satan?" This was my conclusion: "We ask no more than our sisters are allowed. But we demand every bit as little."

That sartorial gender divide still exists in court, but elsewhere we seem to be nearing the end of an ancient rule in the profession's dress code for men: The necktie is going, going, going - and that's not all.

For some 60 years, I have worn a lawyer's uniform. Back in the 1950s, a Philadelphia lawyer in his office with no tie would have been shocking; wearing chinos and no suit jacket would have been revolutionary. Back then, the standard male uniform was a conservatively styled, often three-piece suit, a respectable necktie, and a usually white, long-sleeve dress shirt, sometimes with French cuffs.

Years ago, when a young friend of mine had just begun working at a very proper large firm, the managing partner chewed him out because he walked out of the office without a hat. Back then, the male dress regs also required shoes with laces; loafers were a no-no, and sneakers would have been anarchic. Even socks were subject to regulations: When a man sat cross-legged, any show of his calf would have been considered in bad taste, so high socks secured by garters were standard.

While it's still de rigueur for a male lawyer to wear a suit and tie to court and client meetings, it's difficult to raise eyebrows with one's dress in the offices of even the stuffiest firms.

Imagine this lawyer sitting at his desk today: He wears a short-sleeve, red plaid sport shirt with an open collar, baggy chinos, sweat socks, and jogging sneakers. When he walks out of the office, he wears no hat - because he wants to display his shaved head. Incidentally, that lawyer is his firm's managing partner.