Executive Realness Is Trending—Just Not at the Office

Watching models stomp down the fall runways in suits made me think of two famous workplace films: the comedy Working Girl (1988) and the drama Disclosure (1994). The movies’ leading ladies stand on two different rungs of the corporate ladder: Working Girl’s Tess McGill (played by Melanie Griffith) is an ambitious lapel-loving secretary at a financial firm while ­Disclosure’s Meredith Johnson (played by Demi Moore) is a venomous, horny boss whose blowout is utterly impervious to the elements. Both women favor sharp-shouldered skirt suits reminiscent of the “Executive Realness” segment from Paris Is Burning, the 1990 documentary about New York’s drag ballroom scene, in which contestants strut down the runway in sleek Wall Street ensembles. “In ballroom, you can be anything you want,” the legendary drag queen Dorian Corey says in the film. “I could be [an executive] because I can look like one.”

At Tom Ford, a slender pinstriped suit had louche slouch and swagger; at Givenchy, the pinstripes and oversize fit felt vaguely Dick Tracy. The fastening of a single-breasted Saint Laurent suit jacket tugged and pulled, cinching the naked waist underneath, almost begging for a hand to slip inside. At The Row, a suit was deconstructed with an upturned collarless vest. Issey Miyake’s swaggy jacket was fastened with a thin belt, a large, sweeping brown shawl thrown over the shoulder.

These suits didn’t feel like the girlboss ROYGBIV clunkers of the 2010s that skewed immature and try-hard. Today’s versions are mean and lean, even when the fabric is hulking; they exude a carnal, confident, and concise fierceness that feels more sexual than corporate. There is no cubicle cosplay, perhaps because these suits aren’t necessarily crafted for doling out commands in a conference room. Let’s be real: No one goes to work in a suit anymore. There are endless think pieces about traditional suit wearers, aka men, no longer wearing their dry-cleaned getups to work; and hell, we hardly see a heel higher than a severed pinkie finger in the office. These days, people debate the appropriateness of wearing a crop top to their job.

So why all the suits? I texted my former boss, the longtime fashion editor Sally Singer, because she wrote a piece about getting a bespoke suit by Ralph Lauren for Vogue’s September issue back in 2010. Her tune has changed about the natty three-piece ensemble that she posed in more than 15 years ago. “The return of suits to fashion, in the cap-F sense of the word, has very little to do with the office and conventional ideas of workwear,” she said. “This isn’t about strutting to the watercooler.”

Do watercoolers even exist anymore? Half of us type from home, digital nomads taking Teams calls during morning walks and going on Zoom from our beds. Singer considers suits to be a going-out look rather than Xerox attire. “They are now the surest investment pieces for evening—how to look glamorous and dressed without looking silly or out of touch,” she said. “You buy the suit and swap the blouse for a bra. Or you put the jacket over a slip dress. Or pair the trousers with something slinky. Go to any cocktail party, art opening, or chic dinner these days, and 85 percent of the ladies are in boxy black suits with great jewelry.” I can see where Singer is going with this. I have two Dolce & Gabbana (okay, one is D&G) suits that I bought (okay, I had a credit) from the RealReal. I initially purchased them because, when I was working full-time at a magazine, I had visions of transforming into Shalom Harlow in a Peter Lindbergh photograph from 1997 and getting a raise.

In reality, I barely wore these beautiful suits to the office (and I barely got a raise, to boot). Yet I’ve worn them out to fancy parties and celebrations, such as a wedding welcome dinner and a going-away fete.

Are there other women out there wearing suits for the hell of it? I buzzed Laura Reilly, the writer of the fashion Substack “Magasin,” who hasn’t inhaled unventilated office air since 2020. These days, Reilly sports suits to fashion events, where she takes a swig of champagne and skips off to the next thing. When I asked her about them, she rattled off her preferred brands: Kallmeyer, Brunello Cucinelli, and an Ann Taylor Loft iteration that she swears “genuinely could be Prada or Gucci.” Her suits tend to be gray, but her shirts add a pop of color—think a Caribbean blue ­ Rubirosa number. “The suits feel simple, and I think they look good on me.”

“Simple” is the keyword. A suit is laid out for you like a sartorial formula or a tried-and-true uniform. All you need to do is add a bit of that unabashed Disclosure sexiness or Working Girl drive. You can look like a genius while making the act of getting dressed absolutely brainless. How smart is that?

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