"He dressed, like the rest of us, as if he admitted the existence of sumptuary laws. His raincoat was the pale, buff colour of a mushroom. His hat was dark brown; so was his suit. Except for the few bright threads in his necktie, there was a scrupulous lack of colour in his clothing that seemed protective." So John Cheever wrote of a besuited executive in his short story, The Five-Forty-Eight. That was in 1954, yet we're still hanging the suit out to dry nearly 50 years later.
Most recently, Tony Blair, who's been lolling about in the glossies sporting his beloved denim shirt, has raged against the suit. "It's one of the tyrannies of modern life that men have to dress in conventional suits the whole time," he said recently in one British magazine. He's not saying something we don't already know. From the media darlings at TV3 to the financial whizz kids at the IFSC, losing the suit turns corporate soldiers into freethinking civilians.
Or does it?
Firstly, as Cheever implied, believing the blandness of the suit protects us - and maintains our status in the workplace - is a myth. The colour, cut, weave and stripe all say something about the wearer. Not to mention the tie, which has outlived its original purpose of keeping detachable collars and shirts together. Be honest, who would take an executive with a Mickey Mouse tie seriously? And would you buy something from a salesman with saggy pants and drooping shoulders?
Secondly, Blair doesn't say that most dress-down policies are restrictive.
Some institutions have issued memos laying down the law. Casual wear may become an insidious new corporate uniform. One international bank told its staff, "Appropriate business casual attire includes khaki pants or similar trousers, collared long-sleeved shirts, shoes with socks. It does not include denim of any type (wave ta, ta to Mr Blair), T-shirts, sleeveless shirts, shorts, sweatpants, Lycra, athletic shoes such as trainers, sneakers or Jesus sandals."
Okay, the "Jesus" inclusion was my own creative flourish. And, let's face it, denim looks good on about 1 per cent of the population. But the question remains. Where does workwear end and real-lifewear begin?
The boundaries have been irrevocably blurred. Brown Thomas has doubled its sales of men's casualwear for all its stores in recent times and this season has been particularly strong, according to Paul O'Connor, the men's casualwear contemporary buyer. "The suit isn't gone," he adds. "We're still catering for traditional customers, but there's a new breed of wearer who is interpreting the suit in a different way. In a lot of companies, you don't have to wear a shirt and tie."
Arthur Andersen is one such company. It introduced a five-day-a-week casual policy last February and is reaping the benefits during hot, sticky summer days. Yet, releasing employees from their sartorial shackles was greeted with more tentativeness than hoopla. "A lot of men were worried because they didn't know what to wear," says marketing manager Rory Whelan. "We said, by all means wear a suit." Not everyone is comfortable colour co-ordinating and mixing separates.
Who would have thought the day would come? An accountant without a suit is like a waiter without a pen. Arthur Andersen's permanent casual policy also helps to break the ice between accountant and client. The suit, so often dry cleaned for court cases and tribunals, doesn't seem to command the same respect. Long trousers and French cuffs no longer maketh the man. Says Whelan, "Those in the office all day would tend to be more relaxed. Everyone seems happier."
He had expected more inter-office rivalry. (I do believe they're MY white knee socks!) "There isn't a huge amount of competition about who's dressing the best," Whelan says. "I thought people would be trying to better each other. Staff are more fashion-conscious, but it's about feeling at ease in the workplace. I live close to the office. If I was working overtime, I'd go home and change. The trouble is, if you go out here after work, everyone else is wearing a suit."
The policy didn't unleash a sea of rebellious earrings or politically sensitive PLO scarfs - the scourge of many a headmaster: there's a distinction between business casual and casual. "Most people here are sensible enough not to go a bit mad," he adds. "At the moment, I'm wearing a short-sleeved shirt and chinos. There wouldn't be any ambiguity. You are a businessman. You have a business haircut." So, dreadlocks are out? "We wouldn't go as far as dreadlocks. But we don't try to stifle anybody. Our IT guy has long hair and a goatee beard." Foxy!
Alas, there will always be a hierarchical aspect to the way we dress. The CEO, for instance, may not want to be seen dead wearing the same chinos and Hush Puppies as the guy in the mailroom. But Tom Julian, trend analyst at Fallon advertising in New York and the Academy Awards/ABC official fashion critic for Oscar.com, believes that a more democratic approach to dress is helping to break down barriers, especially between "new economy" and "old economy" businesses.
"In the board room the distinction still exists and will always exist," he says, "but if you take a look at the new entrepreneurial world, you will see a very independent mode of dress. Did you see the image from the Time Warner/America Online merger? Both principals basically did a role reversal of dress. It was a strong marketing statement: `I can live in your world your way and you can live in mine'." Image-wise, old heavyweight Time Warner had much to gain from rubbing shoulders with the younger, hipper America Online.
"The suit concept and statement have changed dramatically in the last ten years," Julian adds. "The first time we heard about casual Fridays in the US was around 1991. Today, the suit is no longer a mandate or prototype.
"We're now hearing more about the apparel industry and retail groups joining together to start dress-up Thursdays and the idea of image being important.
"I liken it to what happened when women got out of hats, gloves and corsets. They never went back."
As dress-down Fridays and "new economy" businesses discard the suit, there's certainly been a resurgence in the scope of menswear available. Some fashion historians have compared the rejection of the suit by some firms to the demise of the skirt in the 1970s, when feminists boasted, "I don't own a skirt". Now skirts are a blessing. Try wearing a suit on a hot summer's day.
In fact, when the suit first emerged, it actually broke dress codes much like the mini-skirt. In 19th-century America it was an alternative to the gentleman's frock coat.
It's anything but rebellious in 2000. The question you're most likely to be asked in your spanking new suit is, "When are you making your confirmation?" says Martin Bradley, director at Eneclann, an electronic publishing and research group for Irish history based in Trinity College. "I try not to wear a suit. It can look too eager, like you're trying too hard. A lot of men can look more professional and confident wearing nice, casual clothes they feel comfortable in."
This means some are showing a greater interest in what they wear. Take Brown Thomas's high water "floods" - otherwise known as male capri pants - or edgier menswear collections at stores like Cuba on Trinity Street in Dublin.
Hillary Ross-Murphy, a buyer at Cuba, says, "Before, if you had a certain status you wore a suit. Now, a funky shirt is more respected, regardless of your salary bracket. Men are looking for a comfortable, relaxed feel. Baggy Maharashi trousers, with draw string waists, are extremely popular."
"Guys are getting a bit sick and tired of the dull colours," she adds. "We might get in a few red or bright blue and they just walk out of the shop. Casual wear is definitely top of the list for most men." Irish men, however, still veer towards conservatism and are less prepared to pay higher prices: "People say Dublin is a very happening place but, except for an elite group, men are still less daring when it comes to what they wear."
With or without a suit, one thing's crystal clear. When it comes to fashion and the Irish male, there's precious little room for complacency.