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The beards were everywhere. The once smooth faces of my colleagues were now matted with lustrous and voluminous whiskers. This was not so much a Zoom call as a cross between a Trump rally and a base-camp briefing before the final ascent of Everest.
Some carried off the new look tolerably, others less so; but what was striking was the sheer amount of hair. There are Dalston hipsters who would think these guys were pushing it. This was not three-day stubble or jaw-defining manscaping. These were full-on Wookiees, the type of beards you could hide a Gruffalo inside. Chins, it seems, are Covid’s invisible casualties.
Some had trialled the look before the pandemic. Others were still labouring under the impression that their partners rather liked the rugged manly them. I know of at least one person who recently broke the bad news to her shocked spouse after realising he was not going to grow out of his fuzz unprompted.
I have no wish to insult life-long beardies, and people are sometimes tempted to experiment. But most men know which side of this fence they sit. You are either committed or you tried it once and didn’t like it. The latter are most likely holiday dabblers — those guys who saunter back into the office with a full set after a summer break just to road test it with colleagues, and to show they could grow one, but who know it’s going at the end of the week.
But now, over lockdown, beard-dodgers of several decades’ standing appear to have succumbed to holiday hair. Those who have endured long spells working from home have become used to wearing comfortable clothes, being constantly in need of a haircut and allowing themselves days when they decide not to shave.
Of course, beards — like flares — have been through a bit of a revival and they are especially popular with — how can I put this? — those with fewer follicles up top. But as we begin to emerge from our Covid caves, we are all going to have to readjust our working lives.
The beards, of course, may stay. Colleagues may have got used to the hillbilly elegies. More intriguing will be whether lockdown has changed our sense of working attire. After a lifetime of belief in smart shoes, I recall the sudden misery of that all-too-brief hiatus between lockdowns, when I laced on the old brogues after a summer of Skechers. If you are tall and thin you can get away with dark trainers. If you are, well me, you stick to something with a shine. And if ordinary men’s work shoes feel a step too far, will women really want to stride back into heels?
Inertia will probably put many of us back in traditional attire. But might casual clothing become more commonplace at work and, if so, what will be the new standards? There is, after all, no phrase more guaranteed to terrorise than “business casualâ€. I mean, what is that? Is it still a jacket? Is it jeans or chinos?
It was bad enough in lockdown. I recall the moment of panic just ahead of a Zoom call with someone who would definitely have merited a suit and tie in the old days. In the end I went for a work shirt and jacket — no tie — and sat self-consciously feeling both over- and under-dressed.
Instinct suggests there will be a touch of the Roaring Twenties as life returns to normal and that, outside the office, everyone will be desperate to dress up and dazzle (well, you may dazzle, I’ll just dress). Glad rags will become a part of the world we are keen to reclaim. And if that holds for social life, might there even be a vogue for extra-sharp work attire?
These are the questions we are all looking forward to answering. Which version of us is going to emerge from the cave? The bearded hoodie, rocking his late-era Luke Skywalker look, or the old us? This may also offer a deeper clue to the wider post-pandemic world and the extent to which working life really will have changed permanently. The more readily we drop back into our old clothes, the more likely we are to revert to other old ways.
Hear Robert discuss “New Britain — or no Britain†at the FT Weekend Digital Festival, March 18-20. For more information and tickets visit ftweekendfestival.com
Follow Robert on Twitter @robertshrimsley and email him at robert.shrimsley@ft.com
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