HOW WORKWEAR LOOKS IN 2026

Who knew your Monday morning outfit could owe so much to Hollywood? As we stride into 2026, office wardrobes are taking more than a few style cues from the screen. Take Nicole Kidman in Baby Girl: calm, composed, perfectly neutral. Then there’s Meryl Streep (aka Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada), teaching us that a blazer isn’t just a blazer, it’s a power move - preferably in that 'cerulean' shade you're not quite sure how to pronounce. One glance at that wardrobe and suddenly you’re reconsidering your entire capsule collection. And, of course, Patrick Bateman in American Psycho - whose surgical tailoring is so sharp it could probably cut glass - reminds us that precision and structure never go out of style.

With Industry back on HBO this week, sharply tailored ambition is once again having a moment, and with it, a renewed appreciation for clothes that mean business. Consider this exploration of office wear a small nod to a show that understands dressing for work is rarely accidental.

What’s fascinating is how these characters - so wildly different - have subtly infiltrated our working lives. From hybrid meetings to coffee runs, our wardrobes juggle comfort, authority, and a touch of personality, often without us realising we’re channelling our inner Priestley, Bateman, or Kidman. Screen style has always been aspirational, but in 2026 it’s almost instructional: watch closely, take notes, and maybe invest in that sharply tailored blazer you’ve been eyeing up.

By all means, move at a glacial pace, Meryl Streep has been spotted in red stilettos, and Miranda Priestley is clearly not retired. Nearly twenty years after The Devil Wears Prada took over fashion culture, the original cast is officially back, with production on the sequel now underway. 20th Century Studios confirmed the news - and it’s safe to say this is more groundbreaking than florals for spring.

Backed by Madonna’s Vogue, the teaser shows Streep strutting down a hallway before disappearing into an elevator. In July 2025, Anne Hathaway offered her own subtle preview, sharing coy, in-character posts on Instagram. In a joint post with the production company captioned “Andy Sachs 2025,” Hathaway wears a vintage, pin-striped Jean Paul Gaultier suit. The slouchy, effortless styling signals a major departure from Andy Sachs’ anxious 2006 beginnings - and that’s exactly the kind of glow-up the internet loves.

Spotted on set in New York, Streep stepped out in a beige trench, a cerulean-adjacent split pencil skirt, and a pristine white shirt. Two decades on, some details remain untouchable: the platinum-blonde hair, dark sunglasses, the gold earrings. And really, if the boss herself tells us something’s in, who are we to argue?

Ten years earlier, Julia Roberts’ 1990 Golden Globes appearance was the ultimate (slightly unexpected) power move. While the red carpet was busy doing what it always did - gowns, gowns, more gowns - Roberts stepped out in a charcoal grey Armani number.

The cut was oversized, sharp, and pointedly masculine without veering into parody. Chic, yes, but purposeful. Broad shoulders, bold lines, and just enough androgyny to make Hollywood mildly uncomfortable - a balance it hadn’t quite figured out yet. On a carpet famously risk-averse, this was tailoring with intent.

If you haven’t watched Babygirl yet, now’s the time. Romy’s effortless, authoritative style (c/o Nicole Kidman) has been slowly seeping into our work wardrobes - and we’re not mad about it.

Released in early ’25, the film casts Kidman as a New York tech CEO who detonates her own life via an affair with a much younger intern (Harris Dickinson, the newly minted face of Prada). The gender-reversed power dynamic has been picked over endlessly, helped along by a handful of viral moments - yes, including the milk scene, later recreated by Kidman onstage.

But the clothes are the point. Think Tom Ford pussy-bow shirts, Max Mara cashmere coats, and, of course, structured pencil skirts that toe the line between professional and sultry. Costume designers Bart Mueller and Kurt Swanson keep things deliberately stripped back. No colour. No theatrics. No “female CEO” signalling. Just clean lines, neutral tones, and clothes that read expensive -because they are.

If Secretary (2002) were released today, the discourse wouldn’t just orbit psychology or kink, it would live squarely on TikTok mood boards titled “office siren but make it HR-compliant.” Maggie Gyllenhaal’s wardrobe isn’t flashy or subversive at first glance. That’s the point. The power of the film’s fashion lies in its refusal to perform.

Think corporate clothing stripped of aspiration and excess, worn almost ritualistically. The repetition feels intentional, like a uniform that removes choice and replaces it with focus. In a modern workplace where “business casual” has collapsed into aesthetic free-for-all, there’s something deeply appealing about that kind of clarity.

What Secretary gets right - and what modern workwear is slowly circling back toward - is restraint as authority. Coverage becomes control. This isn’t power dressing in the 1980s sense - no shoulder pads, no aggressive silhouettes - but a quieter, more unnerving confidence. After years of dressing for Zoom squares and algorithm approval, there’s comfort in clothing that draws a firm line between the personal and the professional.

Secretary reminds us that dressing for work doesn’t have to be ironic, sexy, or softened to be modern. We’ll take that over business casual chaos any day.