I Wore Neckties for a Week

They say dress for the life you want. Well, I wish to command respect, exude confidence and be unwaveringly sure of myself in sticky situations. In other words, I’d like to try walking through the world with the certainty of a well-established man. The quickest way to get there? Neckties.

You see, I am notoriously averse to stereotypical menswear. I’m at home in flouncy skirts and frilly accents. I’ll find any excuse to tie a ribbon in my hair. And if I walk out the door without a pair of dangly earrings and a deep lip, I feel naked and not myself. Logically, I know fashion is fluid and gender binaries are a social construct. It’s just that I often find myself falling on the classically feminine side of self-expression. But lately, I’ve been inspired to lean more masc. And I’m not alone.

While 2023 was the year of girlish aesthetics, these days, there’s androgyny in the air. For starters, the Spring 2025 runways were full of women in male-coded neck accessories. Emporio Armani had bespectacled models in slouchy suits (above). Casablanca made the case for sharp shoulders and blazer mini dresses. Bibhu Mohapatra paired ties with elevated evening frocks.

Plus, style icons du jour are definitively pro necktie. Jenna Lyons has been credited for revitalizing reality TV fashion by going against the bedazzled grain with tucked-in button-ups and ties. Gigi Hadid, Jenna Ortega and Janelle Monáe have donned the traditional masculine accessory on heavily photographed outings. And most recently, Hailey Bieber went viral in a double-breasted Saint Laurent suit that emanated unmistakable authority.

Then there’s the archetypal associations. From the winning lawyer to the seasoned professor, the tie is the finishing touch to any commanding character. In a time when so much is out of my control, I wondered what it might be like to harness its power. Perhaps adopting this add-on could make me into a more decisive person, a higher earner or someone who just really cares about stocks. I needed to try it for myself — even if just for a week.

Of course, I had my trepidations. Could I be just as creative in a cravat? Would it make me feel stuffy and overly self-serious? Might masculine accents impede my personal style? What follows are five days of experimenting, several anxious thoughts and a few pretty illuminating moments of self-reflection. Below, follow along as I test the tie trend for women.

Day 1

For my first neckwear foray, I chose a (now sold-out) plaid pick from Frank and Oak. I leaned into its playful prints by layering a two-toned thrifted button-up atop a frothy white dress from Winners. By blending masculine and feminine codes, I was able to dip my toe into the trend with a best-of-both-worlds ensemble. Three tutorial viewings and many failed attempts later, I finally figured out how to fasten the tie. As I basked in the oeuvre I had created on a grey Monday morning, I felt a sense of accomplishment — like I had achieved something solely by getting myself dressed. Go me!

Riding the streetcar through Toronto’s Financial District, I felt I could hold my own surrounded by sharply suited men taking important calls and firing off two-worded emails. With my tie peeking through my calf-length coat, I noticed the authoritarian energy exuding from my ensemble. When I came back home from a meeting to finish work, I never even changed into my usual WFH uniform (sweatpants), as my billowing business-core fit was genuinely comfortable. Who says you have to feel restricted to dress like you own the place? I was off to a splendid start.

Day 2

The next night, I wanted to see how well a tie might work with an outfit I would typically wear. Donning a COS mini skirt, a thrifted black button-up and a pair of knee-high Poppy Barley boots, I accessorized with a red tie by Eton from Holt Renfrew for a pop of colour.

Upon walking into an industry dinner at Toronto’s Nobu, my tie set off a conversation with a slew of stylish editors. One reminisced on navigating neckties amid the minimalism of the mid-‘90s. Another recounted coming of age when Avril Lavigne was the punk poster child of loosely-worn ties. We reflected on the shape-shifting ability these neck accoutrements hold and the undeniable sense of dominance they deliver. If nothing else, my necktie inspired a shared moment of sartorial reflection.

Day 3

For a day of back-to-back meetings, I decided to face my fears: pants. I went for a straight-leg pair by Canadian brand Duer and styled it with a loose-fitting thrifted shirt and a baby blue tie from Amazon. To feel some control amid the anarchy of a new aesthetic, I tucked in both the top and the tie. Did I run late trying to get my neckwear fastened correctly? Indeed. But in the spirit of wearing the pants, I didn’t let it get me down.

Throughout my day, I often felt like the crusty dad in Clueless, and surprisingly, I was OK with that. Conversing with colleagues, commuting across town and answering emails, I found myself striking a perfect balance of kind yet curt. I felt no embarrassment showing up to the wrong address for one rendez vous. (It happens!) When a large-scale lunch meeting ran long, I pulled out my computer to work. (Time is money!) And when one event was packed to capacity, I turned around and walked out instead of trying to squeeze my way in. (Making myself smaller went against the ethos of this experiment, after all.) In the end, it was a day of honouring my instincts. I wondered: Is this the power of a tie?

Day 4

The following morning, as a treat for my previous pants-wearing excursion, I leaned into my penchant for prep with a pleated Uniqlo skirt, a thrifted collared top and Sézane Mary Janes. For my necktie, I fastened a brindled design by COS in a flouncy bow. I felt perfectly myself, just more expertly adorned. At the office, nobody commented on my outfit — confirming that it was well within the realm of something I might usually wear. While I felt comfortable, I knew I needed to take things up a notch. Next step? Full menswear mode.

Day 5

Channeling Hailey Bieber (sans Saint Laurent budget), I found a suit by Canadian brand Aritzia that had the same colour and a similar boxy silhouette. With it, I wore a RW&CO. striped top and burgundy tie. It was my least familiar-feeling outfit, but as I put it on, I felt exhilaration wash over me. And this time, I successfully tied my tie without the video tutorial, further bolstering my sense of self-belief.

When I entered the opening party of Joey restaurant on King Street West — an opulent space with high ceilings, dim lighting and a Veuve Clicquot tower — it hit me how differently I was dressed. Around me were women in slinky slips, cinched body suits and chic tube tops. As I meandered over to get myself a martini (very Mad Men, I thought), I felt the absence of attention. No lingering stares or uncomfortable interactions. In my slouchy suit, I repelled the opposite sex, and I dare I say I loved it. At the bar, the woman next to me told me I looked cool. I appreciated this gesture, but I also realized I was no longer looking for external validation. Instead, I felt entirely confident and capable. Who knew a flimsy piece of fabric could have such an effect?

Conclusion: Consider the necktie

The key ingredient to this experience — like many style test drives — is having a delicious dose of delusion. Throughout the week, my fabricated alter ego challenged the thoughts that would typically hold me back. An important businessman wouldn’t stress about whether people like him, whether he’s interesting enough and whether others approve of his outfit. And for five days, this fashion fantasy fuelled the creation of the New Me.

Will I wear ties again? Absolutely. Will I make a habit of hitting up sexy bars in slacks and a blazer? Perhaps. Do I plan on forgoing frills and eschewing skirts for good? Of course not! Above all else, trying out the tie trend taught me that self-expression can be free of labels. Talk about power dressing.