The short version: Business attire for women has stopped being about "dressing like a man" and started being about dressing like yourself with intention. The blazer still works. The heel doesn't have to. What matters is that you chose it.
The clothes I stopped wearing at 50
Five years ago, when my business fell apart and I had to rebuild everything, I also rebuilt my wardrobe. Not because I suddenly had money for new things, but because I finally gave myself permission to stop wearing clothes that made me miserable.
I ditched the four-inch heels. I'd been wearing them since 1997, not because I loved them but because I thought a woman in business had to hurt to be taken seriously. That's a lie women tell themselves.
I kept the blazer. That part was true.
The shift from "power dressing" (which was really just "dress like a man but in a skirt") to what I call "intention dressing" changed how I showed up in meetings. Not because the clothes gave me power, but because I wasn't thinking about my feet anymore.
What business attire does
Let's be clear: your clothes don't make you competent. I've sat in rooms with women in perfect pencil skirts who had no idea what they were doing, and women in jeans who ran circles around them. Clothes are not competence.
But clothes are communication. They say: I thought about this. I made a choice. I'm here on purpose.
When I was consulting for mid-market tech companies in 2023, I noticed something. The women who seemed most present weren't the ones in the most expensive suits. They were the ones whose clothes fit their actual life and didn't distract them. A woman in a tailored trouser she could move in, a top that didn't require constant adjustment, a shoe she could walk in without thinking about it.
That's the whole game.
The pieces that earn their space
I'm not going to tell you that blazers have magical powers. I'm going to tell you that a well-fitted blazer over almost anything else signals "I'm here to work." It works in London, New York, Tel Aviv, and Los Angeles. It works in video calls (though nobody sees the bottom half, so you can wear what you like below). It works at 25 and at 53.
Get one that fits your actual shoulders, not your aspirational shoulders. Mine is from Reiss, tailored, cost me 180 pounds, and I've worn it at least 200 times. That's less than a pound per wearing. Uniqlo does a decent one for 60 pounds if you're testing the idea.
Good trousers matter more than good dresses. Here's why: you can wear them with five different tops, three different blazers, and two different pairs of shoes. A dress is just a dress. Trousers are infrastructure. Get them in navy, black, and one other colour that isn't beige (I chose charcoal). Fit them. That's not negotiable.
The top you pair with trousers can be almost anything as long as it doesn't require your hands to fidget with it all day. A loose silk blouse, a fitted knit, a simple t-shirt under a blazer. If you're tugging at it or worried about a strap, it's wrong.
Shoes: this is where I diverged from the conventional script. I wear flat shoes. Good flat shoes. Italian leather, proper arch support, colours that match at least three outfits. I have a pair of Dune loafers (110 pounds), some Clarks leather flats (80 pounds), and a pair of simple black ballet pumps. I can walk into a meeting, down a flight of stairs, across a room, and feel grounded. Literally.
If you want heels, wear them because you want to. Not because you think you have to. There is no seniority bonus for foot pain.
The invisible thing nobody talks about
The real shift in how I'm perceived happened when I stopped performing professionalism and just showed up in clothes I'd chosen with my brain instead of my anxiety.
I used to wear makeup every day at the office because I thought I had to look "polished." I had a kit in my desk drawer. At 50, I stopped. I wear mascara and lipstick on video calls because I like how it looks on camera, but I don't wear a full face of makeup just to sit in a room and do my job. My face is a face. It doesn't need armor.
The women I've worked with who seem most solid, most in control, most like they know what they're doing, are the ones who aren't performing a version of professional. They're just... being professional. They're in clothes that fit, that they've thought about, that don't require constant maintenance. Their attention is on the work, not on whether their tights are straight.
What I wore to the three biggest pitches of my career
First pitch, 2001, age 28: full pantsuit, Jaeger, matching shoes, hair done, nails done, professional anxiety through the roof. We won the pitch. I thought the outfit did it.
Second pitch, 2015, age 42: tailored trousers, cashmere jumper, blazer, flat shoes, minimal makeup. Calm. We won the pitch. I knew the outfit wasn't doing it. My preparation was.
Third pitch, 2024, age 51: dark trousers, a silk top I liked wearing, the Reiss blazer, Italian flats, mascara, my own hair (not styled, just clean). I presented for 40 minutes without thinking about my clothes once. We won the pitch. By that point I understood: the clothes were just permission to forget about them.
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The specific mistakes I made
Wearing clothes that required constant thinking. A neckline that gaped, a waistband that rolled, a hemline that crept up. Every single one of those meant my brain was split between the conversation and the clothes. Dead loss.
Buying expensive things because I thought expensive meant powerful. I had a Burberry coat I wore for 15 years because it cost too much money to not wear it. I hated that coat. When it finally wore out, I didn't replace it.
Wearing things that were "professional" but uncomfortable, because I thought comfort was unprofessional. I had a pair of stiff heels that gave me blisters every single time. I wore them anyway. For about eight years. This is stupid thinking and I was stupid for that long.
Dressing the same way for every single situation. A client lunch is not a board meeting. A video call is not an in-person presentation. The best dressed women I know adjust to the actual context, not to an idea of what "professional" looks like in the abstract.
What this costs
I've built a working wardrobe (blazers, trousers, shoes, tops, the works) for about 1,500 pounds over three years. That's affordable slow buying. The pieces are from Reiss, Uniqlo, Dune, Clarks, and John Lewis. Not high street cheap. Not luxury. Middle.
If I'd bought all of it at once, I could have done it for 1,200 pounds. A good blazer (180), two pairs of quality trousers (200 each), three tops (100 each), two pairs of shoes (150 and 120), one backup pair (80). That's a functional, rotating wardrobe.
Most women I know spend more than that on clothes they don't wear. The point is being selective, not being rich.
The one thing I'd tell my 28-year-old self
You're not going to look professional enough. You're never going to look professional enough. That feeling isn't coming from your clothes. It's coming from your conviction that you're not sure you belong in the room. The blazer won't fix it. The heels won't fix it. Knowing your material and showing up prepared will fix it. The clothes just stop getting in the way.
What I Pack for a Three-Day Speaking Trip
I used to overpack for events, throwing in five outfit options "just in case" and ending up with a suitcase I could barely lift. Now I travel with exactly three pieces that mix and match: one navy blazer, one pair of tailored black trousers, and one midi wrap dress in a dark print that hides creases. That's it. I add two blouses, one silk and one cotton, and a pair of low block heels that I can walk three miles in if the venue signage lies to me about distances (it always does). Everything fits in a carry-on with room left for cables and a spare phone battery, which matters more than people admit when you're running slides off your own laptop.
The blazer does the heavy lifting. I wear it over the dress for the keynote, over trousers with the blouse for the panel, and unbuttoned over a plain top for the networking dinner where I don't want to look like I'm still "on." Colour matters here too: navy photographs better than black under stage lighting, which I only learned after seeing myself washed out in three separate event photo galleries in 2019. Black absorbs the light and flattens your features on camera; navy keeps some depth.
Shoes are where I've made my worst decisions. I once did a full day of back to back meetings in Manchester in heels that looked perfect and destroyed my feet by 2pm, and I was visibly distracted in a client conversation because I was in pain. Since then the rule is simple: if I can't walk fast in them for twenty minutes, they don't come. I keep a foldable pair of flats in my bag for transit and swap them out right before I walk into a room, never on stage or in front of a client.
One more thing nobody tells you: pack a small fabric shaver and safety pins. I have fixed a hem backstage at a conference in Leeds with two safety pins and had zero visible issues in front of 200 people. Nobody in the audience has ever once noticed a small wardrobe malfunction fixed quietly, but they will absolutely remember if you look flustered trying to fix it in public.
Frequently asked questions
Do I need to wear a blazer to be taken seriously in business?
No. A blazer helps because it signals a boundary between "my regular clothes" and "I'm here to work," but you can create that signal with anything you've chosen with intention. I've seen women command rooms in well-fitted jumpsuits, in quality jeans with a structured top, in proper dresses. The blazer is just the easiest, fastest signal. It's not mandatory.
What if I work in a casual office and don't need business attire?
Then wear what you like that doesn't distract you. I have friends in tech startups who wear hoodies and trainers and run million-pound companies. The rule is the same: wear something you don't have to think about so your brain can focus on work. Casual doesn't mean thoughtless.
How do I know if something fits ?
If you're thinking about it, it doesn't. Can you move? Can you sit? Can you reach across a table? Can you walk up a flight of stairs? Can you forget you're wearing it? If yes to all of those, it fits. The shoulders should sit on your shoulders, not off them. The buttons should not pull. The waistband should not dig. There should be room for one finger under a neckline. That's it.
Is it unprofessional to wear flat shoes?
No. Professional means you look like you made a choice and you're capable at your job. Heels have nothing to do with either of those things. Wear whatever shoe lets you walk into a room without thinking about your feet.
Related reading: Fun Careers for Women That Pay Well: 10 Real Jobs That Don't Feel Like Work and Women in Business Clothes: What Works (And What's Theatre).
