About
Why We Don’t Wear Suits
Words by
Brickworks
Recently, an industry online magazine suggested that estate agents need to smarten up, citing pyjamas as the thin end of the wedge — and that salvation lies, once again, in the reassuring embrace of the suit. At Brickworks, we couldn’t disagree more. Not because we’re anti-smart, or pro-novelty-slippers-at-viewings (we’re not), but because the idea that professionalism lives in tailoring feels not just outdated, but regressive.
Knowing your client matters. And for many today, the symbolism of a suit no longer signals authority, seniority or competence. If anything, it can suggest distance. A suit doesn’t automatically make you trustworthy, knowledgeable or good at your job — it simply tells people you’ve followed a dress code that’s been largely unquestioned for decades.
It’s also worth noting that suits have been quietly limiting business wear for a very long time — particularly for men. If a suit is your go-to, your feel-good outfit — genuinely — then by all means, wear one. But it’s worth asking why so many reach for it by default. Is it confidence, or cover? Comfort, or camouflage? Are suits a way to step forward — or something to hide behind?
Trust, after all, lives well beyond the tailoring. It’s built in conversation, in listening, in showing up as a human being rather than a role. Clients don’t trust us because of what we wear; they trust us because of how we speak to them, how we advocate for them, and how we meet them — on their level, not behind a pinstripe barrier.
Work has changed. Ideas of authority have shifted. Clinging to a single, narrow definition of “professional” doesn’t preserve standards; it shrinks them. Simply put, you can’t outsource credibility to a jacket.
“I once took my then-baby daughter in a sling to a valuation, wearing jeans and trainers. My instinct is that I got the instruction in part because I was relatable - the client was a new parent too. For us, being a bit more real is no bad thing.”
Ellie Rees, Founder & Director
At Brickworks, we believe in ourselves — and we dress in a way that reflects that. Our clothes are an extension of how we work: considered, individual, and appropriate to the people and homes we represent. The relationship between agent and client is a two-way street; there’s a synergy there. When you’re being your genuine self, it invites others to do the same. That’s where mutual trust and respect actually come from.
Which is why arguments like this feel so backwards-looking. There’s something particularly ironic about defending progress by reaching for the past — especially in an industry that has spent years trying to shake off a reputation for being exclusionary, opaque and, yes, occasionally untrustworthy. Turning up in a suit as a moral position can read less like reassurance and more like an endorsement of all that came before — and a signal that you’d rather not examine it too closely.
This thinking connects to why we were so proud to have led the successful Dear Sirs campaign. At its heart, that conversation was about questioning who our industry has historically been built for — and who it has quietly excluded. In many ways, Sirs and Suits are interchangeable shorthand: symbols of dominance that were never designed to be neutral, but to reinforce a narrow idea of who gets to belong, lead and be listened to. Challenging one without the other misses the point.
If estate agency is to keep moving forward — becoming more open, more representative, more human — then we have to be willing to loosen our grip on the old markers of legitimacy, and make room for something more expansive in their place.
To be clear: this isn’t about banning suits (or pyjamas for that matter). But justifying your own sartorial choices by criticising others is where things unravel. By all means, wear your suit — truly – just don’t pretend it’s a badge of virtue. And don’t be surprised if, while you’re standing still in it, the rest of us keep moving forward.
Progress doesn’t come neatly pressed. And that, frankly, is fine by us.







