Scruffy Formal Dress Code

The 'smart casual' dress code is common these days as an alternative to more traditional businesswear. Now, I'm sure that many workers have felt overwhelming gratitude for this liberation from the serpent-like symbol of slavery called the necktie, but, really, is a pastel polo shirt that much better? Many of those 'smart casual' codes, it seems to me, define their terms so bizzarely as to be all but mutually exclusive. No jeans. No combats. No trainers. Nuh-uh. Apparently 'casual' means crisply-ironed slacks in beige, grey or black, with a nice jumper, maybe. Short-sleeved shirt = good. Hawaian shirt = bad. Go figure.

Now I understand that the bosses of this world may be reluctant to let their staff come into work in their _real_ casual clothing. I'm willing to admit that the workplace may not be the right environment for bathrobes and underwear, or for those skatepunk jeans and that Rage Against The Machine hoodie. But perhaps there is another way to let workers exercise their individuality and their belief in personal freedom, whilst maintaining the tedious and strange sartorial requirements of middle management.

To that end, I propose the 'Scruffy Formal' dress code. The only demand made is that workers dress formally; there should be no requirements for neatness or cleanliness, or, for that matter, 'appropriateness'. Indeed, the 'scruffy' aspect of the dress code would mean that a certain amount of disshevelment was _expected_. Female workers may happily wear that moth-eaten ballgown they bought in a charity shop ten years ago and never got the chance to wear. Or that prom dress with the straw still sticking out. Gents may dress in full tuxedos but with bow-ties undone, shirts stained with red wine or port, lipstick on the sprung collar. Tattered, frayed military regalia left over from a bygone age would also be acceptable, as would full cricket-whites (replete with grass-stained groin, of course), as alternatives. Generally speaking, however, the *correct* look would be one forged in a weekend of debauchery and decadence and maintained throughout the working week by a rigorous regime of all-night gambling, and breakfasts of Bloody Marys, directly followed by staggering into work the next morning with a joint hanging precariously from your cigarette holder and a top hat squarely skewed upon your head, with a cheery cry of "Champagne and cocaine, anyone?".

'Dress down' days and 'Smart Casual' dress codes will never truly mean that you're free to wear what you want. And those 'Dress Up for Charity' days are invariably just degrading excuses for getting the poor office junior into a a bunny-suit. So I say a new approach is in order. Think of the bonding around the water cooler ("You had _how_ much to drink?"... "The _whole_ football team. I say."). Think of the empathy that unites all hangover sufferers. Think of the team-building excursions to the casino (Forget the white-water rafting, we're talking White Russian quaffing).

Needless to say, a certain degree of flexibility in terms of working hours may be required before this policy could be properly instituted.