Ties: The Style & Psychology
By Sam Croteau ’25, Principal
I should state that this piece is by no means an advertisement for my current employer, Men’s Wearhouse. If you want to stop by… by all means you’re welcome to.
The modern necktie, ironically, is the product of war. In the 17th century, amidst the 30 Years’ War, the French crown hired Croatian mercenaries. The Croats wore colorful pieces of cloth at the nape of their neck to hold their collars together. The French, ever-fashionable, seized upon this idea, renamed it the cravate, from the French word for Croatian, croates, and began to wear it to formal gatherings.
With its use in these formal settings, the cravate soon became a symbol of social status. Only around the 1870s with the creation of the still-used-today four-in-hand knot, did ties begin to resemble how they appear today. Shifting dress codes due to the surge of jobs in manufacturing and office roles spurred the growth of this variant, the four-in-hand, due to its ease. After the thin ties (and bow ties) of the 1920s, hand-painted ties grew in popularity and width during the 30s.
Ties in the 1940s began as a militaristic, nigh-uniform olive drab, before expanding into a broad array of colors in the post-war period. The 60s started as an era of skinny ties that stressed conformity and conservative patterns before the hippie movement widened both ties and perspectives. The 70s brought big ties back before the 80s brought them back even bigger. Styles have varied since then, but most ties have standardized at 3.25 inches wide and 57 inches long. For us tall people, an extra-long tie is 63 inches — just in case it ever comes up in a game of trivia.
While the dimensions may be odd, yet strict, the styles are much less rigid. From paisley to plaid and solid to floral, there’s a plethora of options. Here’s why you should buy that fun one.
When we meet others, we judge each other on two dimensions — their perceived warmth and their perceived competence. Entitled the Stereotype Content Model, these two factors, when plotted, create a four-by-four grid.
Each quadrant here corresponds with certain emotions. Typically, we feel envy when someone is competent yet cold, and pity when someone is kind yet incompetent. And, from the perspective of neckties, even how we dress can impact these perceptions. Let’s look at a prime example: our Rines class.
Every time a startup company pitches to Rines, we all don business-professional attire. The first image a founder sees is thus a sea of black, grey, and blue suits, blazers, and dresses. Outnumbered by the class 30–1 or 15–2, the founder(s) face an intimidating sight.
Typically, these founders are not dressed like us. I’ve seen henleys, t-shirts, and button-downs, but never a matching suit. For what is a business meeting, this mismatch is unique. Yet, both approaches make sense.
In the case of Rines — a class/angel fund with a fresh-faced average age of 20, we need to be seen not as students, but as investors. And, what better way to differentiate ourselves from students than to dress like professionals? And with this change in dress (hopefully) comes a change in the perception of us — from good-natured yet unseasoned to competent youngsters.
Now, let’s look at the entrepreneurs. The most typical outfit we see in our pitches has to be the t-shirt. The quintessential idea of the Silicon Valley entrepreneur, akin to the grey t-shirt and hoodie of Mark Zuckerberg, is alive and well. There’s a pretty sizable style difference in formality between a t-shirt and a suit, yet t-shirts are the unofficial uniform of entrepreneurs. This approach works too.
Typically, we are rewarded with acceptance by conforming to social norms, and exclusion when we reject conformity. However, in what is dubbed the Red Sneakers Effect, non-conformity can actually raise our perception of another’s status and competence. The t-shirt-wearing entrepreneur seizes upon this idea. The rationale behind this is twofold: by rejecting the social norm, the individual shows that they can risk non-conformity to no loss of social capital, and that they possess full agency over their decisions.
Most of the customers that come into Men’s Wearhouse aren’t used to suits. They often work in the trades, manufacturing, or are buying their first suit + tie combo. For someone not used to formal attire, it can be overwhelming. We use an entirely different sizing system, hide ties behind fancy knots, and tailor the majority of the garments that we sell. My favorite part of the job is helping someone through this process. The joy on their faces when they see the outfit come together is priceless — a small act of self-expression in a standardized outfit. And, as science shows and I’ve noticed, it’s also an easy hack to appear more self-assured — and by extension, competent.
Ties aren’t worn as much nowadays as they once were. Most of the ones we sell at Men’s Warehouse are earmarked for weddings, funerals, and proms. Modern dress doesn’t necessitate them like it once did. Yet — if an occasion requires one — an interview, a first date, a panel, or a job fair, stand out from the crowd. You’ll be remembered, appear more competent, and by extension, confident. Get yourself a fun tie, and catch me at Men’s Wearhouse every Monday night.
Sam is a senior at UNH, where he is studying Analytical Economics and Organizational Behavior. He joined the Rines Fund as a sophomore, and has served as both a principal and liaison. In these roles last fall, he led an investment in Jiminy’s, a sustainable dog food company. After studying abroad in Madrid during the springtime, he joined Wells Fargo as a Commercial Banking intern. There, he found that the skills he learned from Rines were directly transferrable to the workplace. He’s looking forward to implementing the skills he developed over the summer into the startup world.
