As a Stockport civil servant wins his case not to have to wear a tie we test feelings in our office.

Charles Hutchinson loves ties...

IT is irrational, like the root of so many love affairs, but I love ties. This form of tying the knot is a sartorial marriage for life with its own etiquette. Silk in town, wool in the country. Striped, old-school and polka-dotted for the city suit; with room for more decorous display at the weekend, but plain black for funerals. High fashion should come out only at night; polyester is the playing-away-from-home of tie sins, and novelty must never be worn, let alone wear off.

The tie is, outwardly, unnecessary, impractical, restrictive, uncomfortable, especially on summer days. Yet it is trim and light, with a life-affirming array of colours and designs to lift a shirt and jacket.

In the tradition of that old school uniform argument, take away the tie, and you take away the uniformity, and where is the next boundary for rebellion? How many shirt buttons can be undone? Should collarless shirts be allowed? How about T-shirts?

As for discomfort, a tie is hardly in the league of a hair shirt. If a tie is proving to be a pain in the neck, buy a bigger collar size or re-sew the top button closer to the edge of the shirt material for more breathing space.

Last week an employment tribunal ruled that Stockport civil servant Matthew Thompson was sexually discriminated against because he was forced to wear a collar and tie while female colleagues wore casual clothes. The tribunal missed the point of a dress code: it is not an issue of men versus women but men versus men. How do you judge male smartness? Not against women but against fellow male office staff workers. That way, a benchmark can be sustained, and it is not as if women have it all their own way. Evening Press dress code stipulates they should not expose their midriffs, even if they are as toned as Atomic Kitten.

As Mr Thompson's employers, the Department for Work and Pensions, will stress when taking the matter to appeal, dress standards are important in a professional service, and for men the easiest gauge remains a tie. Meanwhile, Mr Thompson is apparently seeking compensation for injury to his feelings, which says everything you need to know about him.

Dandy Oscar Wilde inevitably has a thought on neck attire for men. "A well-tied tie is the first serious step in life," he said in 1891. Those fashionable men of rock, the tie-sporting Strokes and The Hives, would concur.

So, tie until I die.

Julian Cole hates them...

TIES have made a hypocrite of me. I hate the stupid things, yet I wear one to work every day. It is hard to imagine a more ridiculous garment than a length of coloured or patterned silk that gets knotted round the wearer's throat. Well, it's not that hard, I suppose: just think of cravats or bow ties. Still, we are here to talk about the ties that bind.

Men wear ties because ties are supposed to denote smartness. Yet half the ties worn by men are decorated in all sorts of unmentionable stains and smudges. What's svelte about turning up at a meeting with evidence of the last meal you ate displayed for all the world to see? But it's easy to see how the spillage and spattering occurs. A tie is rather like a baby's bib, only cut a little thinner and marketed as an alleged fashion accessory.

But I have yet to answer that hypocrisy accusation. Why exactly do I wear a tie to work? I wouldn't dream of wearing one outside and remove the patterned noose the minute I arrive home. Most days, I don't meet members of the public, as I'm too busy designing pages, editing copy, writing columns and so forth. And on those occasions when I am allowed to venture into the land of fresh air, I am content to wear a tie, for form's sake, I suppose.

Yet why do I wear one when sitting in front of a computer, across the desk from my tie-championing colleague, Charles Hutchinson? I think it's the old school uniform question. I never liked uniforms at school, up to and including the old grammar school tie. Yet the one advantage of a uniform is that you can take it off and leave it on a heap on the floor the minute you arrive home (I've been looking in my teenage son's bedroom for research on this matter).

And a tie is a sort of uniform, to be removed with relief once work is over. But when I win the Lottery/write a best-selling novel or whatever, I am never going to wear one of those wretched, neck-throttling strips of gaudy material ever again.

So the Stockport civil servant Matthew Thompson should be hailed for winning a victory for the open-necked life. After all, women get away with wearing all sorts of liberating fashions, while men are expected to get knotted about their necks. Ties, by the way, are especially horrible in hot weather. And don't even get me started on why men should be able to wear shorts during a heatwave.

Updated: 12:12 Tuesday, March 18, 2003