Denim, Trainers, and the Hidden History of School Uniform Rules

The age old debate around uniform still rages on in the U.K. despite many other international countries abandoning them long ago. There have been concessions to culture, race, gender, neurodivergence and (minimally) socioeconomic status but, ultimately, most schools still demand uniformity, conformity and wield uniform as a weapon. A few years ago I honeymooned in the south of France and I visited Nimes. It is an incredibly chic and fashionable place. This got me thinking about our choices regarding uniform in schools and where they originally came from.

Denim

Denim, now one of the most widely worn fabrics in the world, originates from serge de Nîmes, a sturdy cotton twill produced in Nîmes, France. Its rise to global prominence was not accidental. Denim was valued for being affordable, durable, and practical: light enough for everyday wear, yet strong enough to withstand the demands of manual labour. By the 19th century, it had become the fabric (and uniform) of choice for workers in agriculture, mining, and industry, particularly after Levi Strauss and Jacob Davis patented riveted denim trousers in 1873.

From the outset, then, denim symbolised utility, resilience, and accessibility. It allowed working people to own clothing that lasted, sometimes for months or years, under physically demanding conditions. On the surface, these qualities seem entirely positive. So why, I ask myself, in many British schools, is denim still considered inappropriate?

To answer this, we need to look beyond practicality and into history.

The History Bit!

The British school uniform system reflects Victorian ideals of discipline, hierarchy, and control. Elite institutions such as Eton influenced the system, designing uniforms not only to create cohesion but also to signal status and conformity. Clothing became a visual marker of respectability. Within this framework, people implicitly positioned fabrics associated with manual labour, like denim, as ‘lesser’.

Over time, denim accumulated additional cultural associations. In the mid-20th century, it became linked with countercultural movements, including American youth rebellion, the hippie movement, and civil rights activism. In the United States, Black communities also widely wore denim, further entangling it in racialised perceptions. These layers of meaning contributed to its reclassification- not as a practical fabric, but as a symbol of informality, resistance, or even deviance.

Thus, neatness or functionality cannot fully explain schools’ rejection of denim. Instead, it reflects a complex interplay of classism, cultural bias, and historical prejudice. 

Trainers or “Sneakers”

A similar pattern emerged in attitudes toward trainers.

Originally developed in the late 19th century as rubber-soled sports shoes, trainers (or “sneakers”) became popular due to their comfort, flexibility, and relatively low cost.

They were, by design, a way of encouraging movement which holds its own level of irony as a study I recently read from Cambridge University found that schools that impose strict uniform regulations also appear to register less physical exercise (correlation does not necessarily equal causation though).

By the late 20th century, brands like Nike and Adidas had transformed them into global cultural icons. However, as trainers became associated with youth culture, particularly urban and working-class youth, schools and wider society increasingly viewed them with suspicion.

In the UK during the 1980s and 1990s, public discourse often linked trainers to antisocial behaviour or gang culture. Schools responded by banning them outright, reinforcing the idea that certain types of clothing signified disruption or disrespect.

I feel this raises an important question: what is inherently wrong with trainers? From a practical standpoint, very little. Trainers are typically lightweight, cushioned, and ergonomically designed- often better suited to growing feet than rigid formal shoes. For some students, particularly those who are neurodivergent or have sensory sensitivities, soft and flexible footwear can significantly improve comfort and focus.

Trainers today

Many prominent fashion houses and respectable cobblers have released trainer brands. It amused me to discover that the word for a cobblers apprentice is, in fact, “snob” but, ironically, the prejudice remains even in wider society. I was reading an article by the Guardian “Treading the line over Trainer choice” on this topic: I began to wonder that perhaps this is why, despite many benefits, trainers remain prohibited in many school settings- not because they are unsuitable, but because of what they have come to represent.

Pause for thought…

This led me to a broader and more uncomfortable reflection.

How many school rules, particularly those around uniform, reflect genuine concerns about wellbeing, practicality, or learning, and how many reflect inherited assumptions about class, conformity, and respectability?

When we strip away the surface arguments, the exclusion of denim and trainers begins to look less like a rational policy and more like a legacy of social signalling.

In an era increasingly focused on inclusion, wellbeing, and equity, it may be time for us to revisit these uniform assumptions. If a fabric is durable, affordable, and accessible, and if a shoe supports comfort and movement, then the question I would like to ask is no longer why should students wear them? but rather:

Why shouldn’t they?

The author

Cate Davies

Cate has been a teacher for 20 years. She has worked internationally and across all key stages in the UK. Her secondary specialism is Performing Arts with a keen interest in PSHE/RSE. Cate is recently married with two cats who keep her busy and an allotment that requires more time than she can give it!

https://keepingitkind.blogspot.com/