Some frivolity is commute-hardened. Learn your allies:
Ask yourself: Who actually defined that I cannot wear a holographic headband on a Tuesday? Often, no one. We internalize rules from a vague “they.” Try a low-stakes frivolous item on a non-meeting day. Note the results. Most likely, no one cares—or they compliment you.
Studies in environmental psychology suggest that what we wear affects cognitive performance—a phenomenon called enclothed cognition. When you wear “commute armor” (stretchy black pants, a rainproof shell, nondescript layers), your brain interprets that as a survival uniform, not a creativity or leadership uniform. You shift from thriving to enduring before you even sit at your desk. frivolous dressorder the commute
I spoke with six commuters across New York, Chicago, and San Francisco. Their voices echo the same theme.
Maya, 34, graphic designer (NYC):
“I bought a pair of silver platform boots last fall. Gorgeous. Made me feel like a space princess. I wore them exactly once on the L train. Someone stepped on the toe, scuffed the patent leather, and I nearly fell getting off at Bedford Ave. Now they live under my desk. On weekends only.”
David, 41, nonprofit lawyer (Chicago):
“My partner says I look like a sad earth tone every Tuesday through Thursday. He’s right. I have this amazing burnt orange tweed blazer with elbow patches. But it’s too heavy for the walk to the El, and I’d overheat by 8:15 AM. The frivolous dress order said: no.”
Elena, 28, tech project manager (San Francisco): Some frivolity is commute-hardened
“I love big plastic hair clips—the kind with fruit or flowers on them. But on the Caltrain, they dig into the back of the seat. And people stare. So now I wear a low ponytail and a cap. I feel erased.”
These are not superficial complaints. They are evidence of a daily ritual of self-diminishment. Studies in environmental psychology suggest that what we
