A strange thing happens when you search for ‘maternity suit’ on any online clothing site: a black hole appears. The same happens when you walk into a store as a pregnant person looking for a suit. I’m no physicist, but I suspect this phenomenon is less about gravity and more about good old-fashioned misogyny.
My pregnancy has reached a stage where I no longer look like I’ve eaten an extra-large portion of fish and chips, but like someone growing a baby. Actually, a child. This time around, my bump is significantly bigger than it was with my first, and it became apparent much earlier. Consequently, I’m struggling to fit my magnificent body into any of my existing clothes. I also, for the first time in 15 years, regularly attend a formal workplace (a secondary school) where people wear blazers, ties, and shiny shoes. There’s a gap in my wardrobe.
Since it’s Secondhand September, and I’m a fashion scavenger by nature, I started with secondhand options: Vinted, Oxfam, and a fantastic maternity clothing library in my neighborhood. There were flowy summer dresses, stretchy jeans, Breton stripes galore, and some striking elasticated pieces that looked like the unlikely offspring of gym equipment and stripping costumes. But an actual suit? Nowhere to be found.
Early the next morning, before my son woke up, I procrastinated by searching for ‘maternity suit formal.’ The results? Metallic ball gowns, navy lace bridesmaid dresses, and – you guessed it – flowy, floral frocks. Suits? Coordinated jackets and trousers? Sharp tailoring and pointed collars? Not so much. This points to a damning conclusion: we simply don’t expect pregnant women to have ‘professional’ jobs. Now, I consider any regular paid work a profession, but you know what I mean: law, education, politics, management. The traditional, wood-panelled world of high-paying, high-status jobs, once dominated by men, is slowly opening up to mainly middle-class, often white women. The failure to provide professional clothing options for pregnant women is more than just an inconvenience; it reflects a deeply ingrained misogynistic view of competence and fertility.
Pregnant women are not expected, perhaps not even trusted, to handle significant responsibility (even though they are, literally, managing a matter of life and death in their womb). Our intellectual capacity is dismissed, our commitment questioned, and our qualifications eclipsed by the existence of a fetus. Just look at the data from Pregnant Then Screwed to understand the ongoing crisis in maternal employment rights.
It’s bizarre how Western society assumes that the moment a bump appears, lawyers, teachers, and politicians abandon their careers for coffee mornings, nightclubs, and picnics, especially considering the astronomical cost of childcare for those returning to full-time work.
For now, I’ll be heading to school in my husband’s shirt, a pair of trousers held together with a safety pin, and my suit jacket, completely undone. If Alfred Hitchcock is selling off his old wardrobe, please let me know.
