Formal dress codes in Parliament were originally used to signify membership of the elite. Today, even as sartorial standards in the House of Commons have followed societal trends, commentary about how MPs dress continues to underline their class membership, as well as reveal darker undertones of sexism towards female MPs, writes Philip Berry.
The Labour Party won the 2024 General Election with one of the biggest landslides in UK political history. The election result, combined with a record number of newly elected MPs, has significantly changed the composition of the House of Commons. However, as the Speaker Sir Lindsay Hoyle said in July, one aspect of Parliamentary life will remain unchanged: the rules that govern how MPs dress.
The House of Commons is still a bastion of sartorial formality: MPs of all genders may not speak in the Chamber without wearing business attire, although the dress code for women is less explicit than it is for men. Clerks are compelled to wear dark suits, black gowns and white bow ties to ensure that they are distinguishable from MPs. This formality stands in contrast to most contemporary workplaces: few employers demand that their male staff wear suits, let alone ties; in fact, one must only observe civil servants entering government buildings to realise that informality reigns in most offices.
Despite the House of Commons’ current stubbornness to sartorial change, the dress code for MPs has slowly evolved to reflect societal trends. During the latter half of the Victorian period, the dominant dress code for politicians (and other elites, such as city bankers, judges, barristers and medical doctors) was black morning or frock coat, grey and black striped trousers and silk top hat. Marcus Morris explains that the origins of this political costume “resulted from the need for an identifying uniform for politicians, which conveyed their suitability for the House”. This “suitability” stemmed from membership of the middle and upper classes. By adopting this uniform, MPs were conforming to the political expectations and social codes of the time and, in doing so, communicating their “seriousness” as politicians.
In 2017, Tom Brake, a Liberal Democrats MP, caused an uproar when he asked a question in the House of Commons without a tie.
Not all MPs who were seeking to be considered “serious politicians” accepted the sartorial status quo. One of the first challengers was Keir Hardie, a founding member of the Labour Party, who, in 1892, wore a tweed suit and cloth cap in Parliament. Hardie used clothing as a form of visual communication to signal his rebellion against the political elite, whilst highlighting his working-class background, although he was no longer a “working man”. Despite Hardie’s act of subversion and conformity, fashions were already changing with the lounge suit gaining popularity in wider society. That said, it would take at least another two decades before the lounge suit was well on its way to replacing the frock and morning coat in Parliament. From that point onwards, the lounge suit has become a mainstay of the modern politician’s uniform.
There have been limits, however, to how much Parliament has embraced sartorial change. The “smart casual” look, for instance, has not been adopted – despite fleeting reforms in this direction. In 2017, Tom Brake, a Liberal Democrats MP, caused an uproar when he asked a question in the House of Commons without a tie. The following day, a Conservative MP asked the Speaker, John Bercow, if MPs were permitted not to wear a tie in the Chamber. There was precedent to the question: Members had previously been reprimanded for not being “properly attired” in the Chamber. Bercow, however, ruled that if MPs dressed in business-like attire there was no requirement to wear a tie. The following year, the House of Commons guidelines were changed: men were no longer required to wear a tie, although jackets were still mandatory.
Bercow’s reforms to the dress code must be viewed in the context of his wider agenda. Bercow was considered one of the most reformist Speakers of modern times and, as such, saw relaxing the dress code as a means of bringing the House of Commons into the 21st century. This was exemplified when Bercow defied convention by wearing a suit instead of court dress in his inaugural session as Speaker.
As the new Parliament sat in July, Hoyle told new MPs that “I say to hon. Gentlemen, please wear a tie or you just might not catch my eye.”
Bercow’s casual attitude to MPs’ attire did not outlast his tenure as Speaker. His successor, Lindsay Hoyle, revised the rules: men were first “encouraged” before being “expected” to wear a tie. Hoyle’s insistence on MPs dressing formally was clear during the Covid-19 pandemic. Even though most MPs attended Parliament virtually, Hoyle insisted that they “stick to the [formal] dress code“, rather than, as one MP suggested, wear pink shorts. When one MP failed to comply with the directive by wearing a sweater during a debate, the Deputy Speaker, Eleanor Laing, prevented him from speaking. As the new Parliament sat in July, Hoyle told new MPs that “I say to hon. Gentlemen, please wear a tie or you just might not catch my eye.”
Hoyle is a firm believer that how MPs dress demonstrates their respect for their constituents and for Parliament. Polling suggests that the public believes how MPs dress is important. According to YouGov, 71 per cent of adults believe MPs should wear business attire when attending the House of Commons Chamber, compared to 18 per cent of adults who believe that MPs should be able to dress more casually. Similarly, MPs who fail to dress appropriately can suffer from poor public appeal. In a 2016 Harvey Nichols poll, Jeremy Corbyn, the former Labour Party leader, was voted one of the worst-dressed male public figures in the UK.
Corbyn had a long history of using clothing to communicate that he was outside of the political elite and in touch with the ordinary voter. David Cameron, the former prime minister who hails from a privileged background, exploited this to ridicule his opponent for not wearing a “proper suit” and for failing to “do up his tie”. The critique spoke of long-standing class hierarchies and the elite view of what was deemed a “respectable” outfit for an MP. Before long, Corbyn abandoned his light brown suit jacket and mismatched trousers for a dark suit.
Whilst appearance and choice of clothing are important for all MPs, female politicians are subjected to added scrutiny – much of it underpinned by sexism.
Labour politicians, especially, must tread a fine line in their choice of clothing. On the one hand, if Labour MPs do not conform to the accepted dress code, they leave themselves open to being criticised for being unsuited for the job. On the other hand, if Labour MPs wear expensive suits, then it is claimed that they are out of touch with those they represent. That said, Conservative MPs have also been subjected to criticism for their choice of dress. David Cameron was criticised for wearing a £3,500 suit, whilst Rishi Sunak’s choice of bespoke suits and expensive footwear reinforced his image as the wealthiest ever incumbent of Number 10 Downing Street.
Whilst appearance and choice of clothing are important for all MPs, female politicians are subjected to added scrutiny – much of it underpinned by sexism. One recent example includes the backlash faced by Tracy Brabin, a former Labour MP, when she addressed the House of Commons in 2020. As Brabin, who was nursing a broken ankle, approached the dispatch box, her dress slipped, revealing her shoulder. The Deputy Speaker – who had previously prevented MPs from speaking in the Chamber because of inappropriate clothing – did not comment about the (un)suitability of the politician’s outfit. Outside of Parliament, however, Brabin was subjected to a torrent of sexist abuse on social media. The criticism, which also had class undertones to it, illustrated that women are still judged far more on their appearance than by their political views or achievements.
As new and old MPs return to the House of Commons after the summer recess, the sartorial rules that govern them will remain unchanged. But no doubt, MPs’ choice of dress will continue to generate media attention, much of it fuelled by sexism and classism.
All articles posted on this blog give the views of the author(s), and not the position of LSE British Politics and Policy, nor of the London School of Economics and Political Science.
Image credit: UK Parliament on flickr
