Thanks, for this, Melcombe. Keen insights.
Compared to acquiring the academic knowledge and skills necessary to begin, let alone complete, a decent tertiary education (which I don't limit to Oxbridge or their challengers), the amount of effort necessary to ask about and learn the basics of professional dress is tiny. Your concluding aphorism pretty much encompasses it. You'd think any aspirant would be curious enough to seek it out, or be counseled for five minutes in school. Apparently not.
So there's something else going on. Not limited to London finance, though perhaps more apparent there than in the States or elsewhere.
Certain elements of attire are still so regarded by many as class markers that adopting them raises all the class anxieties that a strictly meritocratic ideal wants to wish away. People from working-class backgrounds absorb much of their identity as young people from their surroundings, which may include people who are prideful about their working heritage and suspicious of people who "get above themselves." So learning that stokers wear overalls and surgeons were scrubs or white coats and bankers wear dark suits and black shoes, is not merely learning a value-neutral choice as it might be presented in a U.S. public high school or state university. It's felt by some as confronting a choice to change your societal affiliations, possibly "forgetting where you came from," etc. The U.S. has long had a mythology of upward mobility that has significantly diluted this anxiety, but it's still strong in many areas.
As a personal example, my partner was a grammar school girl from the Midlands, who faced social ostracism from her lower-middle-class peers who went to the state community school and their families. She won a scholarship to Clare College, Cambridge (before Thatcher), and then completed her doctorate at Yale thanks to a Mellon fellowship. She is now a distinguished professor of renaissance (or early modern, as they now say) English literature at the University of Virginia, one of the best departments in the country. She has many cordial professional relationships across the U.S. and the U.K. now, but is quite clear-eyed in asserting that she could not have built an equivalent academic career had she remained in England when she was starting out, because her Midlands-via-Cambridge accent and social background were too posh for her origins and not posh enough for her potential academic employers. Things are somewhat more fluid in Britain now, apparently, but at the cost of some chilling government requirements to demonstrate the "public usefulness" of one's scholarship at such short intervals that books are rushed to publication and many important research projects are never attempted because they would take too long. A book like Auerbach's
Mimesis could not be written today under those conditions.
And when I worked for the Philadelphia Museum of Art as a conservator, I found plenty of aggressive "take the piss out" colleagues among the packers and art handlers, many of whom were working artists themselves and devoted to the collection, but who strongly identified with Philly's long blue-collar tradition. I had come from the very independent and "make your way" culture of suburban Texas, and it took me a while to orient myself to the class and union allegiances I had to acknowledge and respect. I had to learn enough about the local football and baseball teams to keep up my end of a hallway encounter and to drink a beer-and-a-shot (or several) on enough occasional after-work bar visits not to seem like I was holding myself apart. Interacting with my professional peers was a completely different experience.
So I think what the Bloomberg article hints at, but doesn't say, is that what the aspirants (or the social advocates trying to engineer improvements in their prospects) really want is not for hirers to overlook their brown shoes or provincial backgrounds until they can learn to conform to the dress and behavior codes of the profession. What they really want is for the profession to
accept the brown shoes and heterogeneous preparation of otherwise talented aspirants, so that those aspirants don't have to face becoming "class traitors" by abandoning the familiar markers that form part of their sense of identity—but can still expect to thrive in the profession. Obviously that raises questions about broader professional standards and excellence of the sort explored in Tom Nichols's book
The Death of Expertise.
Until society can untangle the uniform from the class and see it merely as the conventional dress for a given occupation, this anxiety will probably persist.