Lately, I have given a lot of thought to the aesthetic archetype of the bartender. I have also wondered what role that archetype is playing regarding women’s roles in the industry. Relax; The following is not a feminist diatribe. What it IS, is a conversation starter about what, exactly, defines professionalism vs. what simply perpetuates a stereotype.

I remember the mantra of a former basketball coach, “The uniform doesn’t make the player.” My question, then, is: How much of the professional bartender is wrapped up in pre-prohibition garb? The answer to this question begs another: How is the professional perception of women in our industry affected by a patriarchal archetype? There is a perceptual association of the word ‘bartender’ and a particular dress code that came about simply because the Golden Age of bartenders consisted almost entirely of men. It is curious to me that the industry clutches so tightly to that image. You do not see doctors or lawyers dressing the way they did nearly 100 years ago. Sure, they dress the part, but the style has evolved, and that evolution has allowed for a modern genre of clothing, including the professional woman’s wardrobe.

I want to be clear that I am not claiming the existence of an overt conspiracy against women in the world of tending bar. I am simply intruiged by the coincidence of a particular choice of attire (and barber prowess) amongst top tier bartenders. Are we, perhaps, confusing antiquity with authenticity? Do you think that women suffer any disadvantage, competitively, as a result of being aesthetically ‘boxed out’ of the ‘professional bartender’ archetype?

As an example of how an archetype can govern a workplace, my friend Tim is a nephrologist – a kidney doctor – and a darned good one. He is, hands down, one of the most wholistically intelligent human beings I have ever met. What, in my opinion, bolsters his incredibly insightful nature, is that he does not buy into the ‘fancy-suit-and-car’ lifestyle associated with being a doctor. On more than one occasion, his beater car has been towed from the doctors’ lot, regardless of the fact that it had all of the proper parking permits. The attendant, “…just didn’t believe the car belonged to a doctor.” Further, Tim generally dresses for comfort (jeans and a polo), which prompts the workplace question-in-jest, “Is it casual Friday?” To this question he wisely responds, “If you want a fashion show, go to the mall. If you want your kidneys to work, come see me.” Enough said.

I cannot sport a mustache, but I can make a mean Manhattan. On that note, what do you think? How much of our profession (vs. our skill set) is aesthically required in order to be taken seriously?