With each decade and the cycles of fashion, women have been given contradictory mandates about femininity and power.
In the 1980s, the power suit doctrine emerged: erase your femininity to succeed. John Molloy's "Dress for Success" became scripture. Women adopted tailored blazers, neutral palettes, masculine silhouettes. The logic was clear, femininity was the problem. Strip it away and you become worthy of the boardroom. But what was gained? Authority, maybe. What was lost? Identity, personality, the actual self. The price of entry was erasure.
By the 2000s, fashion began to suggest an alternative: maybe femininity isn't the problem. Maybe it's the solution. Luxury fashion leaned into curves, color, and carefully curated sexuality. The narrative shifted; perform your femininity strategically and you can succeed. But this too demanded transformation. Women traded one costume for another. Success still required becoming someone else.
Then, in 2023-2024, "office siren" rippled across TikTok and fashion feeds with yet another message: femininity as workplace strategy, low necklines framed as corporate confidence, seduction as currency. Gen Z reclaimed the aesthetic from the stiff boardroom and made it personal, playful, sexy. But it demanded the same price: your visibility, your desirability, your willingness to be looked at. Once again, success required transformation, this time through exposure instead of erasure.
For three decades, the narrative remained constant: become someone else to prove yourself. Erase yourself, then perform yourself, then expose yourself. Three different strategies, all asking the same question: What version of yourself will the office accept?
Meanwhile, for Muslim women throughout all of this, the message had been clear and consistent. The hijab was never a choice between erasure or weaponization. Coverage wasn't about hiding. It was about claiming authority through a different framework entirely; one that didn't require women to choose between denying their femininity or performing it for others.
While Western women were being ping-ponged between contradictory ideologies, Muslim women asked a different question: What if we didn't have to prove ourselves at all?
The rise of “Corpcore” offered a subtle yet definitive pivot, acting as a necessary recalibration against the “office siren” and the shifting demands of corporate style. Its fundamental directive was uncompromising: arrive without apology.
Though it utilised familiar blazers and architectural shapes, the aesthetic discarded the performance of seduction in favor of raw authority. This was not a costume inherited from 1980s masculinity, but a presence generated from within. It is a modern reclamation, self-defined and entirely possessed by the individual.
This shift crystallized across the 2024-2025 runways: Prada’s vibrant knits meeting sharp collars, the precision of Boss, and Chanel’s intentional layers. Beyond the high-fashion circuit, the movement lived on social feeds and Pinterest through exaggerated tailoring, austere shirting, and the calculated simplicity of knits and trousers.
Images: Boss and Chanel
This is where NAZLA enters with the In Office collection. The hijab anchors the aesthetic, holding corpcore and femininity together. It is a choice, every single time. Modern office dressing for Muslim women has become a series of deliberate choices. Not rules imposed from elsewhere. Not a performance for an audience. Choices made by women who know exactly what they want to communicate when they enter a room.
The hijab completes the narrative. A well-placed hijab, in a smart check or considered pinstripe, shifting from boardroom to beyond, is a deliberate choice. It signals: I have considered how I want to show up. I have chosen every element. A woman who walks into a room fully covered, fully considered, fully present commands attention precisely because she's making a conscious choice about what to reveal and what to keep. She's impossible to ignore, not because she's performing seduction, but because she's entirely present.
For the first time in a long time, the broader fashion conversation shifted. Instead of "How do I look?" it became "What do I want to say?" For many Muslim women, the answer was: "I've been saying it. The question is whether you were listening."
This market research fundamentally shaped how we approached In Office. We didn't want to create another iteration of the cycle. The collection launches with pieces that embody what we learned: structured, intentional, classic yet modern. A maxi-length collared abaya in crisp fabrication becomes the anchor, see pinstripes in espresso, mulberry, and navy, and a grid print that reads editorial, not decorative. Drawstring bags in olive and chocolate designed for someone who carries her own weight.
The In Office collection launches next week.