Dumb Formal Core
Stop Wear work clothes. Wear your clothes.
I built my closet so that my work clothes are my clothes. I can wear the same outfit to a meeting, a date, a dinner, or a dive bar—and still feel like myself in every setting. That’s the whole point.
“Smart casual” is outdated. It was written by a man. It's vague, passive-aggressive, and sets us up to lose unless we fall in line with the same tired uniform: black pants, a blouse, and loafers. You’re either “too much” or “not enough.” Slutty or frumpy. Pick your poison.
And worst of all? It’s not even the guys saying anything. It’s the girls.
Boys have a boys' club for a reason—they don’t waste time talking shit about another guy’s pants. And if they do, it’s to his face, and it’s a joke.
We need to be better for each other. It’s hard enough being a woman in business already.
Let’s have each other’s backs.
I’m not saying we ignore things. If a new intern’s skirt is too short, maybe because nothing is made in a normal length these days, don’t embarrass her. Pull her aside. Be kind. Be honest. Say, “I’m only telling you this because I wish someone had told me.” Let it be a moment of connection—not shame.
There’s no modern blueprint for what women should wear to work—because it doesn’t exist. Stores don’t stock it. Media doesn’t show it. What we’re left with are blisters, wired bras, ugly blouses, and the same fucking pants.
Dumb Formal is a loophole.
A way to meet the dress code without losing yourself.
It’s not about dressing “appropriately”—it’s about dressing authentically within the lines. It’s about not wanting to rip your clothes off the second you get home. About still feeling hot, comfortable, and confident in something you could wear from 9 to 5 and beyond.
I’m not saying I’m a fashion icon. But this is what I’ve figured out. This is what makes me feel good. And it works. Because now, my work clothes are my real clothes. They don’t change who I am—they show who I am.
A Note on Women's Freedom and Style
We don’t get a lot of freedoms in the grand scheme of things.
But one of the few we do have is style. Clothing. How we dress.
It says everything—how we feel, who we are, what we want to say.
Men don’t really get that freedom. They have like, five options.
But our freedom backfires when it comes to women’s workwear.
That same versatility we’re lucky to have? It’s weaponized against us.
We wear a dress, and it’s the wrong length. A blouse, and it’s too tight.
We either feel overexposed or invisible. Like we’re in a costume.
Like a ghost inside an outfit we didn’t choose.
The Dream
My dream? A full line of Dumb Formal clothes that let you be you—wherever you're going. Clothes for work that don’t feel like workwear. That you’d wear even if you didn’t have to. That fit the code without killing your vibe.
A skirt that’s not too short, not too matronly—just hot and respectable.
A dress that isn’t bodycon or maternity—it’s structured, flattering, easy.
Work shoes that make you feel sexy and strong—but you can actually walk in them.
Men’s-style button-downs, without drowning in fabric.
Everyday tops you can wear to a meeting or a night out.
Blazers that feel modern, not tailored to someone else’s idea of professionalism.
Maybe these pieces exist here and there. But it’s not about one piece. It’s about building a system. Making it accessible, intuitive, normal.
Normalizing dressing like a woman who’s grown, hot, powerful, and in the prime of her fucking life.
Dumb Formal is not about buying work clothes. It’s about buying your clothes.
Clothes that work for you. Wherever you’re going. Whoever you are.