"Suit yourself, I'm wearing shorts!"

Jumping out the shower this morning, there was no doubt in my mind I was throwing on a dress for work today. Tights? Absolutely not. Not only is my office a human goldfish bowl that reaches temperatures NASA are yet to report from the sun's surface, the prospect of easy-breezy bare legs all day was an offer I couldn't refuse.

As my unrestricted pins carried me to Oval tube station in the glorious sunshine and down into the mayhem that is the Northern line at 8.30am every morning, I shuffled up to a man directly opposite the Viagra campaign poster (the billboard's content is irrelevant, but it did make me wonder if he was doing a little subtle research). The sharply-dressed man was rocking a well-tailored grey suit - probably worth considerably more than my monthly wage - that was made slightly less impressive by the bead of cotton-induced sweat preparing to tumble from his brow. I'm also aware that the Northern line, despite grimly busy during rush hour, lacks the same reputation for its soaring temperatures when compared to the likes of the Central or Bakerloo line. A suitable twinge of empathy struck me and it got me thinking about dress-code standards.

Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE a good suit. Whether you're a man, woman or part of a Blues Brother's doggy double-act on Halloween, the suit is a timeless wardrobe staple that will always have its place in the world. But are we really STILL imposing the ideology that dressing to make an impression must simultaneously cause discomfort, overheating and quite frankly, a smell on the tube no amount of Lynx Africa is going to cover up? If I were in anymore than my current lightweight frock and sandals, I'd either be dozing at my desk or being piled into an ambulance with a dehydration the Israelites would be wary of. No amount of first impressions, office etiquette or blatant double standards are worth feeling like you're melting from the inside out for.

Is it entirely necessary to wear a suit on a week where temperatures in the UK not only rivaled those of Ibiza, but broke all kinds of bank holiday records? I get it, there are certain standards expected of employees when they're paid to represent a company. There are client meetings, business deals and opulent lunches that simply don't align with the wearing of cargo shorts and a string vest. But how come Linda from accounts can come to work wearing little more than a piece of cloth with a £20 price tag while David sits in the corner hyperventilating until someone finally checks on him for a contribution to the latest birthday collection envelope?

Of course, my previous example of a singlet and above the knee, thigh-exposers was a little extreme. I think a man in a linen shirt and tailored shorts is just as put together as a man with pit-stains that reach his hips and a bad attitude as gruesome to match. Smart in appearance, smart in decision-making. I'd rather see (and smell) an office of comfortably dressed, smiling faces of guys who are actually able to enjoy the short-lived British summer than continue the unpractical custom of layering a 3 piece. Ditch the suit and sport the shorts - life's too short and dry-cleaning is too expensive!