Are dress codes in upscale restaurants and bars still relevant?

Later, I am told by Hayden Winch, the general manager of Atlas, that the dress code is “squarely aimed at enhancing the overall experience and making every visit to Atlas feel like a special occasion”. “By maintaining a policy that encourages our guests to dress their best, we aim to create an atmosphere of elegance with a touch of sophistication that everyone can enjoy,” he says.

Winch recognises that each establishment has the autonomy to decide its dress codes. “For Atlas, it’s about aligning with our brand’s identity, which embraces the unique décor and, more importantly, the sense of occasion we strive to create,” he says.

That’s a fair reason. But I know that times are changing, and diners today are looking for casual experiences that are nevertheless upscale. I also know that some of these establishments no longer enforce dress codes. In this day and age, just how relevant is the dress code?

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Dress codes are ubiquitous in almost every corner of the world. A deeper interrogation into their function as social norms can reveal much about a culture in time and place. They have been used throughout history to define communities or exclude them, from the ornate embellishments on the garments of the aristocracy to distinguish themselves from the lower classes to the defiant get-ups of the punk rockers in defiance of “respectable” dress codes (which is in itself a dress code). 

Though early iterations of restaurants have existed in different cultures throughout the centuries, the modern restaurant as we know it today is a recent phenomenon. The first modern restaurant was likely set up in 1765 in Paris by a Monsieur Boulanger, who sold soups to “restaurer”, or “restore”, the body—which is how we get “restaurant”. The first high-end restaurant, however, came later in 1782 with the opening of La Grande Taverne de Londres by Antoine Beauvilliers, who would later write the seminal cookbook, L’art du cuisinier. Replete with mahogany tables, an extensive wine list and sharp waiters, the restaurant was tailored to the well-heeled aristocracy and the upper classes, who came garbed in the elite fashions of the day.

Thus the upscale restaurant experience has always been an occasion to dress up. This was certainly true at least up to around the 1970s and 1980s, according to Sebastien Lepinoy. Lepinoy, the executive chef of the iconic three-Michelin-starred Les Amis, explains that around that time, only a few people, such as “merchants, businessmen, and wealthy people” would go to a restaurant regularly; everyone else would only go on special occasions. “There was no need for a dress code, because everyone automatically wore jackets,” he claims. 

The situation is quite different now. Today, people don’t need an exceptional reason to make an outing of a restaurant experience; it is as simple as finding a place to eat. More often than not, people go to restaurants straight from work in their office attire. The “line between daily wear and dining-out attire” is “blur[red]”, Lepinoy says. 

As an institution of classic French haute cuisine and the hospitality that it is associated with, Lepinoy is insistent on “restor[ing] the sense of occasion that dining out historically represented”. “If you go home and change into something special, you will feel different. You are ready to enjoy, and your mind will be much more open. It’s psychologically satisfying,” he says.

To Lepinoy, it’s also a form of respect. “Just as our staff takes pride in their appearance, we appreciate when our guests also choose to enhance the shared dining experience by dressing for the occasion,” he says. It’s also a sign of respect to your fellow guests. Explaining that his customers are usually “experienced diners” who are “well-acquainted with the etiquette expected at fine dining restaurants,” it could be distasteful to go against the dress code. Hermès sandals are nice, for example, but it’s not for the occasion. “And if the pedicure is not perfect, trust me, it's not appetising,” Lepinoy says.

The dress code is also important to Imamura, a fine example of Japanese kaiseki in Singapore. Nestled within Amara Sanctuary Resort Sentosa, it is often cited as one of the best Japanese restaurants in Singapore, with a smart-casual dress code to boot. “It creates a posh and elegant atmosphere that suits the restaurant’s dining experience,” chef-owner Hirofumi Imamura says, ensuring a sense of “exclusivity” and “occasion”.

The intention behind the dress code, which prevents “singlets, sportswear and swimwear”, is not snobbish—even if it sounds like it is. “Not every dining guest is a repeat customer who can afford to dine frequently at fine dining establishments,” Imamura says. “Some guests could be here to celebrate a special occasion, and it could also be their first time enjoying fine dining. Setting a dress code is one requirement that sets the right ambience for new guests to truly enjoy and appreciate a fine dining experience.”

Both restaurants apply the dress code uniformly to each and every guest. Lepinoy admits, however, that it “tends to be easier with our loyal regulars who are already familiar with our dress code”. “They are happy to dress for the occasion,” he says.

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But there is a new kind of restaurant in Singapore—one that eschews white tablecloths for a more modern attitude towards dining, especially towards the dress code. One of them is Restaurant Zén, celebrity chef Björn Frantzén’s outpost in Singapore. With three Michelin stars, it would be reasonable to expect a certain formality in the atmosphere and service. If you did, however, you’d be wrong.

“We’ve never had a dress code,” Aaron Jacobson, the group general manager and beverage director of Zén, tells me. In fact, it was “important” for the restaurant not to have a dress code, which ties into the ethos of Zén’s service. “The entire experience is meant to seem like dining at a friend’s house,” he says, explaining that the staff are “encouraged” to sit with the guests and even curse with them, if they are comfortable with it. The goal is to create a relaxed atmosphere where guests are free to joke around and speak freely, which is partly achieved by the lack of a dress code. 

Zén’s approach to dressing has attracted at least four or five angry emails from “uptight French businessmen”. “There is a certain standard that they’re probably used to,” he acknowledges. “But it doesn’t matter to me. As long as they’re wearing a shirt and shorts or pants or something, I don’t really care.” 

Jacobson believes that not having a dress code helps to make the dining experience inclusive—as much as it is possible to make a thousand-dollar dining experience inclusive. “Anything I can do to democratise the experience as much as we possibly can within reason and make it more accessible for everybody, I’m going to do,” he says. 

Marguerite, situated within the lush Flower Dome at Gardens by the Bay, officially has a smart-casual dress code, but also does not turn away anyone in casual attire—unless you are in sportswear. For chef-patron Michael Wilson, the reason for this has more to do with its practical reality. “We’re in a garden,” he says, explaining that most of their guests come for pleasure, not business. “I don’t expect all our guests to be traipsing through the park dressed to the nines—especially if you just happen to walk in for lunch without making a reservation.” 

It’s also about the atmosphere that Wilson wants to create. “Being more relaxed with our dress code sets the tone for a more welcoming, friendly service that is stripped of the unnecessary stiff formality that I personally don’t enjoy,” he says. “You don’t need to wear a suit to drink Champagne Salon and eat caviar.”

In a 2023 profile of Thom Browne, The New Yorker reported that the fashion designer famous for his signature tailored shorts had given up on wearing long pants. This gave him issues when trying to enter upscale places such as the “Ritz in Paris or the Four Seasons in Milan”. “Now, they always let me in,” Browne told the magazine. 

Would that be the case at Les Amis? Its dress code, after all, requests gentlemen to wear long pants. What if you look absolutely impeccable but fall short of the dress code? “We have a minimum standard and we do not accept shorts or sandals,” Lepinoy says. That being said, he adds that it’s less about the clothes and “all about the elegance”. “It also depends on how people wear it,” he says.

On the topic of Thom Browne, Lepinoy, who has previously served as an ambassador for the brand, asserts that it is Browne’s styling of shorts that makes it elegant. He brings up Browne’s outfits to court in 2001, where he wore shorts long enough to reach the knee with long socks, making it seem like he was wearing pants.

The look was complemented with a “cardigan, a tie, or even black-tie shirts”. Simply put, you can’t just slap on shorts to dine at Les Amis just because you saw Thom Browne do it first. Nice jeans and covered shoes will do the trick, Lepinoy says, as will a shirt and cardigan. A clean white shirt does the job, but one emblazoned with “I Love Singapore” does not. If all else fails, there are always the loaner trousers and jacket.

At Atlas, it’s much the same. “We absolutely appreciate stylish guests, however we are aiming for a cohesive standard that complements our particular venue’s ambience,” Winch says. “It is not about the judgement of our guests, but rather an encouragement to align with our establishment’s atmosphere and ensure a consistent experience for all.”

On the other hand, at Imamura, shorts are allowed (“as long as it is not too sloppy”) because it is a counter-seating restaurant, and you are not able to see the lower bodies of the guests. 

In fact, the restaurant even discourages some formal clothing, such as high heels for women due to the uneven stoned pathway leading to the restaurant. “The main requirement is a comfortable outfit that suits the ambience of the restaurant while respecting other guests,” Imamura says. It’s also worth noting that looks can be deceiving, and appearance doesn’t necessarily correlate to spending power. Jacobson recalls a guest who comes in sometimes in flip flops; once, he ordered a $15,000 bottle of wine and spat out every sip in a spittoon, before offering the rest of the bottle to the staff. 

Lucrative opportunities such as these are just some possibilities that restaurants open themselves up to by eliminating the dress code, a traditional gatekeeper of fine dining. But these establishments are quick to say that spending power is not a consideration, dress code or not. The point is “not to judge a book by its cover”, Wilson says. And Lepinoy insists that Les Amis “care[s] the same” for a table that spends $1,000 and a table that spends $50,000. Just respect the dress code. 

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Every establishment I have spoken to has alluded to this one factor: occasion. Lepinoy puts it this way: you would dress differently at the W Hotel, a beach resort, than you would at the Raffles Hotel, a pinnacle of colonial luxury. In the same way, you would dress differently when you go to Les Amis, Atlas or Imamura, than you would at a more modern experience such as Zén or Marguerite. 

“Places like Odette and Les Amis are always an excuse to dress up for. I will throw on a jacket too depending on the occasion,” Lim Sze-Liang, a veteran diner, says of the only two French restaurants in Singapore that have three Michelin stars. In contrast, other places such as “Burnt Ends, Sushi Ashino and Sushi Oono”, Lim “would be happy to go in my usual simple black T-shirt but always with long pants and covered shoes”. It also depends on the meal of the day. “I will go more casual at lunch, sometimes with just a T-shirt, but [at other times] I will wear a collared shirt.” 

You will also see style maven and foodie Wendy Long curating her outfits to match the energy of the establishment. To her, dining out is always an “occasion”, a “social activity” that is rarely enjoyed alone. It is more of a “performance”, where the artists—the chefs and the staff—craft “masterpieces” for the “audience” of diners. “Curating a look that fits the style and context of the place allows us to use fashion as our ‘costume’ to bring out the role that we play in the context of the dining appointment,” she says. But always, of course, “within the rules of the establishment, as a [sign of] respect to [its] requirements”.

Dress codes are also bound up with the norms of each locale. Jacobson tells me that while he was working at three-Michelin-starred Benu in San Francisco, there were no dress codes. At that time, California had become a tech haven, where the standard uniform is a hoodie and chinos. Compare that Restaurant Gordon Ramsay in London, which explicitly bans “shorts, tracksuits and hoodies”. Top restaurants in New York City such as Jean-Georges, Daniel and Per Se all strongly encourage jackets. 

In Singapore, there is no such jacket policy because of the intense tropical heat; you’re more likely to see a general “smart-casual” policy. “Wearing a suit in 30-degree weather is not luxury, it’s torture,” Wilson says. Similarly, Imamura says that it is “not logical” to enforce a jacket policy because of how hot it is. Dining out in Singapore is still an occasion; it simply has different rules derived from its unique context.

So is the dress code still relevant? I think I have my answer when I meet Jacobson for this interview on a Friday morning. He confides that he usually wears a Hawaiian shirt on Fridays, but he’s expected at Odette in a few hours for a champagne lunch. Thus the Hawaiian shirt returned to the dresser and out came a dressier polo instead.  

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