Last week, whilst walking to Sidgwick, I encountered a John’s fellow striding across the backs clutching a stack of leather-bound books. He wore a full charcoal-grey suit, a bottle-green slipover and a beautiful printed silk bow tie under a navy overcoat which extended just below his knees. I couldn’t help but stare in awe as he deposited his books in the red telephone boxes outside of the University Library before swiftly turning back to return to his rooms at John’s.
Johnians will know instantly which fellow I refer to since this was no special occasion; he has, to the best of my knowledge, never been spotted dressed down. In that moment, I thought back to my daily commute into the City of London. At 6:50, men in navy trousers would traipse themselves from Moorgate station to their respective office buildings; not only did they lack a jacket or tie, they lacked the pip in their step that this fellow had running a simple errand. But it wasn’t surprising that these salarymen seemed to have stifled characters – the corporate world is a prescriptive one. Envy was the overriding emotion that I felt in that moment; the fellow’s freedom to embrace his eccentricity awakened the green-eyed monster in me.
Often, eccentricity goes hand-in-hand with a lack of responsibility. When individuals are given free rein to act how they want, they will of course choose to be their true selves. Take the (rather extreme) example of Regency period eccentric John Mytton whose Wikipedia page states his occupation as “rake”. Brilliantly, his infobox lists that he is “known for” his “flamboyant eccentric behaviour”. Some other gems from his page include claims that he took 2000 bottles of port up to Cambridge to sustain himself during his studies; his wardrobe consisted of 150 pairs of hunting breeches, 700 pairs of handmade hunting boots, 1,000 hats and some 3,000 shirts; and his favourite horse, Baronet, who had free range inside his home, was fed on a diet of steak and champagne. One wouldn’t think it inapposite, therefore, that Mytton earned the nickname Mad Jack.
After briefly reconsidering a career in the city, I thought it more constructive to use the John’s fellow (and Mytton to a lesser extent) as a source of inspiration. One shoudn’t let their career chip away the idiosyncrasies of their personality. Take David Solomon who was able to work his way not only to the top of the corporate ladder but to potentially the most coveted job in finance: CEO of Goldman Sachs. Until very recently, Solomon continued to DJ under the moniker DJ D-Sol, playing gigs in Manhatten, the Hamptons and the Bahamas. Although the Goldman board put a stop to this in October 2023, it goes to show that one musn’t sacrifice his personality to achieve corporate success.
I can think of a few actionable measures to incorporate your personality into 60+ hour weeks. The first is to not fear breaking some social norms. Do not be afraid of wearing bold socks to the office. Maybe wear a bottle green slipover to the office instead of a plain boring navy crewneck. Colleagues will most likely respect you for it than balk.
The second is to spend time and money on the things you enjoy. Years of saved bonuses will leave you asset rich, personality poor. If golf is your passion, spend the time whenever possible to head out of London to a good golf course. Pay that extortionate green fee. The occasional session at an indoor golf simulator is no substitute. If you are really into watches, don’t buy a Rolex just to impress your colleagues; buy that Jaeger LeCoultre you’ve always wanted.
Finally, and most importantly, you must work a job that enables you to enact the two aforementioned steps. If your boss were to balk at your choice to wear striped socks, maybe it is time for a new job. I once read, and can’t exactly remember where, that it is acceptable to wear a colourful pair of socks to hedge fund interviews because it indicates that you are a risk taker who might bring this attitude to their investing. It was most likely just a Wall Street Oasis post, but it helps me sleep nevertheless…
laisseth-faire 