Everyone Wants to Buy These Server Uniforms—But They're Not for Sale

We didn't know agrarian-chic was a thing, until we went to this Manhattan restaurant.
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Sidney Bensimon

A framed painting smaller than a piece of paper hangs above the bar at Nix. It's a tiny rendering of a smudgy red tomato on an equally smudgy black backdrop—and it was specially made for the space by artist Hugo Guinness. James Truman, former editorial director of Condé Nast and partner at Nix, says it telegraphs what the Manhattan restaurant is about—from its name, pulled from a centuries-old trial over whether a tomato should be classified as a fruit or vegetable (Nix v. Hedden), to its vegetable-only menu.

Nix is devoted to produce, and does its best to serve hearty food (wok-roasted cucumbers with jerk spices, goat cheese, and kumquats) based around vegetables and grains. Highlights included a Yukon potato fry bread that was halfway between an ideal loaded baked potato (with sour cream, broccoli, radishes) and a donut, as well as a portobello mushroom carpaccio served with fennel and Parmesan. But nothing in the cavernous white-walled, white-marbled restaurant conveys how close Nix wants to be to the earth better than the servers, who float through the dining room in matching, billowy designer navy blue frocks that make us want to take up gardening or painting just so we can look that stylish while doing so.

The navy, Japanese art smock-inspired uniforms at Nix. Photo: Sidney Bensimon

Sidney Bensimon

Truman admits they have a sort of commune vibe, especially since his first inspiration was an English gardening smock. However, he ultimately settled on these, designed by Paul Marlow, a former designer with Marc Jacobs and a friend of Truman's, with the hopes of replicating vintage Japanese artist smocks. They are are loose and roomy in the front with a criss-crossed back that opens up toward the bottom. The result is a dining room where, as far as the eye can see, it's a sea of navy, a cohesive team.

The team wanted to avoid the typical white, starched business shirts, suits, and butcher's aprons they usually see on servers: "The problem with restaurant uniforms is that servers were men for so long, that now we're essentially dressing everyone, even the women, like men," Truman says. He worked with Marlow on a number of different prototypes until they settled on the retro navy blue and white smocks. The fabric is Ikat—a dyed, patterned, and woven fabric—made in India. The thin, soft fabric gathers above the elbow and flows as the servers carry dishes across the room. The server uniforms at Nix are designed so that the wait staff appears to move in harmony—even though they can wear whatever jeans and t-shirts they bring from home underneath the smock.

The servers are all dressed in navy, but the hosts and the sommelier stand out. Photo: Sidney Bensimon

Sidney Bensimon

The two hostesses get their own uniforms, a set of vintage dresses Truman purchased on eBay using the search terms: "60s mod dress;" "70s hippie dress;" and "70s prairie dress," although that last one pulled up dresses that were a little too costume-y, like a flower child teleported from Woodstock to a Union Square location of Free People in 2016. The hostesses have multiple options. But the sommelier, Andrea Morris, has the best deal. Marlow designed a different dress for each night of the week for her. Some of her dresses veer Moroccan and others feel more Indian- or Czech-inspired. They're above-the-knee, similar to shifts, in fiery red and yellows, and they wouldn't be out of place in a French farmers' market in June or in Williamsburg's McCarren park. The men on staff wear navy blue with white polka dot button downs; everyone matches.

One of several dresses designed for Morris, Nix's sommelier. Photo: Sidney Bensimon

Sidney Bensimon

The navy uniforms were custom-made for the restaurant, and they aren't available to consumers ("We haven't gotten into the clothing business...yet", says Truman). But each costs around $100, and server Krystal Rack says that she gets asked as much about her server outfit as she does the food.

Most of all, she likes that they're practical. The open back allows for mobility while she's hustling around the dining room, and a pocket in the front fits a pad and pen comfortably. And guests can always find her, because they know what to look for.

"I've been to so many restaurants where servers wear their own clothes and maybe an apron," says Truman. "When you've put so much thought into the design of the room and the food, why not make sure that's true of the people who work in the room, too?"

We wouldn't be mad about owning one of these