Let Them Clutch Their Pearls: A Consent-Forward Case for Dressing ‘Too Much’ in Britain

There’s a particular British noise that follows a bold outfit. It’s not a wolf whistle. It’s a small, damp ‘Ooh, you’re brave.’ It’s a colleague saying ‘I could never’ while looking you up and down like you’ve just announced you’re running for mayor. It’s a stranger at a bus stop asking if you’re ‘going somewhere nice’ in a tone that suggests the answer had better be a wedding, a funeral or a court appearance.

At Heels & Cleavage, we are not here to make anyone smaller. We’re here for bold glamour, playful style and consent first — which means respecting other people’s choices, not policing them. And yet Britain still gets the wobbles when someone refuses to dress like they’re apologising for existing.

The compliment that isn’t

‘You’re so brave.’ ‘Good for you.’ ‘Someone’s feeling confident.’ ‘I’d never have the nerve.’ These are not compliments. They’re little social taxes on visible self-expression. They turn your outfit into a spectacle and the speaker into the sensible protagonist. Sometimes they’re not even mean. Sometimes they’re envy in a cardigan. But the effect is the same: you’re made to feel like you’ve done something odd by looking like yourself.

The ‘too much’ myth says there is a correct amount of visible femininity: enough to be attractive, not enough to be a threat; enough to try, not enough to seem to try. Heels are fine if they’re practical. Cleavage is fine if it’s accidental. Confidence is fine if you keep it quiet. It’s a very British set of rules, and it’s exhausting.

Why Britain gets the wobbles

We are a country raised on understatement, ‘smart casual’ and the national religion of not making a fuss. Tall poppy syndrome isn’t just about success; it’s about visibility. Add class codes, regional snobbery and a long-running suspicion of anyone who looks like they’ve enjoyed getting dressed, and you get a culture where bold glamour is treated as a public event.

Women, femmes and anyone who has been told they’re ‘too much’ know the drill. Be attractive, but don’t be distracting. Look nice, but not like you tried. Take up space, but not that much. And if someone says something uncomfortable, smile, because otherwise you’re the one being difficult.

British nightlife has always been full of peacocking, by the way. We just pretend it’s only allowed at weddings, hen dos and reality television. The rest of the time, we’re supposed to dress like we’re about to pop to the shops for milk.

Boldness isn’t a public service announcement

A plunging neckline is not a press release. Heels are not a consent form. A smile is not a contract. The consent-forward defence is simple: my outfit is mine; your reaction is yours. You can look. You can compliment. You cannot touch, follow, photograph or demand. And if you don’t like it, you can look away. It’s remarkable how many people forget that last option.

This is not about being ‘attention-seeking’. It’s about being attention-directing. You get to choose what you wear and who gets access to you. Being bold doesn’t mean wanting attention from everyone. It means choosing what feels good and letting the rest be background noise.

A red dress and a pub quiz

I once wore a red dress to a pub quiz in the Midlands and was told I was ‘brave’. Brave? I was answering questions about 1990s chart hits and trying not to be hit by the quizmaster’s microphone cable. The dress wasn’t a statement. It was Tuesday. A friend once wore heels to a cocktail bar and was told she wasn’t ‘really dressed for the pub’. The pub was a cocktail bar. The goalposts moved so fast they left skid marks.

That’s the thing about the ‘too much’ myth. It’s not consistent. It’s not about the venue, the weather or the occasion. It’s about making the person with the nerve feel like they’ve broken a rule that was never written down.

The scripts that keep your shoulders back

You don’t have to be rude. You just have to be clear. Try these:

• ‘Thanks, I like it too.’
• ‘I’m not looking for feedback.’
• ‘I’m not asking for opinions.’
• ‘Please don’t touch me.’
• ‘I’m dressed for me.’
• ‘If it bothers you, that’s yours to manage.’
• ‘I’m not being brave; I’m being dressed.’

Say it calmly. You don’t have to smile. You don’t have to explain. Practise with a friend if it feels awkward. Boundaries are not rude; they’re information. And if you’re on the receiving end of a boundary, the correct response is ‘fair enough’, not a debate.

Consent-forward, not compliment-hungry

There is a difference between wanting to be seen and wanting to be available. Consent culture is not anti-flirting. It’s pro-clarity. Ask first. Accept no. Don’t make someone’s outfit a topic for public vote. If you’re the one being approached, you can be warm and still say no. You can flirt and still change your mind. You can wear the heels and still want to be left alone with your mates.

Bold glamour is not a threat. It’s a pleasure. And if you really can’t handle a bit of cleavage on a Saturday night, may we suggest a quiet night in with a blanket and your own opinions?

So wear the heels. Wear the neckline. Wear the thing that makes you feel like you. Just do it with consent, good heel grips and a friend who’ll tell you when your lipstick is on your teeth. That’s not too much. That’s just right.