I’m not that big of a golf fan.
I tried to play years ago. I was dating a man who lived and breathed the sport. During our first flush of dating, he was keen on the idea of us playing the course together, so he acquired a set of clubs for me. Turns out that relationship was short-lived, and so was my attempt at the game, after my clubs got stolen in Los Angeles. C’est la vie!
That aside, I never understood the appeal of whacking a stick against a tiny ball and trying to land it in a hole. It just seemed like there were better things to do. There was a macro purposelessness to the activity, an overall waste of time, that I just couldn’t get past.
So, when I was offered premium hospitality tickets from a friend to attend the U.S. Open Championship at Shinnecock Hills, in the Hamptons, to take in Rory McIlroy, Matt Fitzpatrick and the eventual champion – Wyndham Clark – I felt a sense of guilt weighing on me. I thought those lucky passes shouldn’t be landing in my hands, but should go to someone obsessed beyond comprehension with the sport. Then reason set in. I thought, “Well, I am obsessed with the fashion behind the sport” – the prep, the polish, the immaculate uniform of plaid, polo shirts and “proper” twin sets. “And, after all, I am a writer. I can offer my first-person commentary on the satirical stylings of both spectators and players.” I paused for a moment, then my excitement began to surge. “Yes,” I said with glee. “I would be delighted to attend – sounds fun!”
In the 1950s, female players dressed modestly but started to consider athletic freedom. They typically wore collared blouses, twin-set cardigan sweaters, and high-waisted, knee-length skirts or dresses. Toward the latter half of the decade, players began adopting sleeveless shirts and comfortable Bermuda shorts. Photo: LPGA.
I already had my outfit planned in a nanosecond: a simple black-and-white set – thin-check top paired with a matching pencil skirt, black-and-white golf cleats and a small matching white parasol to shield myself from the summer sun. Simple, sensible and cute – an outfit that quietly declared, “I may not play the game or follow it closely, but I deeply respect its history and what it stands for.” My guilt quickly evaporated as I confirmed my attendance for the coveted suites at Hole 1, knowing I would find a way to do those tickets justice.
From the turn of the 20th century through the 1920s, women golfers adhered to a stringent dress code that reflected their place in society, their standing in the sport, the club they played at and their perceived respect for the game. Formal attire consisted of restrictive garments, such as bustles, petticoats and long, flowing or pleated skirts, which severely limited mobility and affected performance. Functionality improved over time, but it was not until the 1930s that British champion Gloria Minoprio wore trousers and shocked the establishment.
Left: At the 1966 Masters Tournament, Ben Hogan and Arnold Palmer wore coordinated, bold blue outfits topped with classic mid-century cardigans, creating one of the most iconic fashion moments in golf history. © 2010 Augusta National, Inc.
Right: The golf outfit designed by Yves Saint Laurent for Anny Duperey in Stavisky (1974) heavily drew on the sporty 1920s silhouettes popularised by Jean Patou and Coco Chanel. Haute couture shorts set by Christian Dior (1971) inspired by golf in an era obsessed with the “sporty chic” and country-club aesthetic. © Roland Bianchini / L’Officiel.
In the 1950s and 1960s, women’s golf fashion advanced with greater freedom and functionality. Hemlines continued to rise as the ‘skort’, a hybrid skirt with built-in shorts, emerged as a popular innovation, offering more revealing yet still modest femininity alongside improved mobility for swinging. Bold colours, patterns and sleeveless tops also gained acceptance.
In the 1970s, women’s golf fashion embraced greater liberation and functionality. Polyester slacks and matching tops, vibrant colours, polos with billowing collars, and shorter shorts or skirts largely replaced dresses. Plaid and check patterns appeared in stylish skirts and pants, while form-fitting polo shirts accentuated a woman’s silhouette, all while enhancing swing freedom and comfort on the course.
Left: In Caddyshack (1980), the clothing is intentionally exaggerated, garish, and cartoonish. Rodney Dangerfield’ bright red-and-white plaid trousers and Ted Knight’s stiff, safari-style pith helmet were visual punchlines to mock the absurdity of country club elitism.
Right: the set of Ordinary People (1980) featuring Mary Tyler Moore, Donald Sutherland and director, Robert Redford. The official costume designer,Bernie Pollack, curated a wardrobe of classic, upper-middle-class American sportswear to ground the characters in their suburban Lake Forest, Illinois setting. © Paramount pictures.
The 1980s were about power dressing. Women’s golf fashion moved into an era of excess and vibrancy. Oversized silhouettes, high-waisted pants, louder patterns, textured knits (how can we forget the knit tie?) and bold colour combinations dominated the fairways, delivering both athletic freedom and unapologetic loudness. While movies such as Ordinary People (1980) quietly showcased the crisp, privileged country-club propriety many still upheld on the greens, the comedy hit Caddyshack gleefully skewered the whole snooty spectacle scene with its chaotic parade of over-the-top garish outfits and club snobbery. The decade served up a witty blend of preppy style and playful rebellion.
Today… oh today. What happened? How did it all go so wrong? It’s as if golf fashion has taken a left hook down the fairway. It seems anything goes. There are no longer clear lines of demarcation between proper course attire and beachwear, athleisure, or outright slob.
Rodney Dangerfield look alike at the 2026 U.S. Open at Shinnecock; Safari attire with accompanying dog; tan lines coupled with BBQ malfunction chic.
At the U.S. Open at Shinnecock, we witnessed spectators in safari vests with Birkenstocks, ladies twinning in too-tight matching outfits that looked like rejected tennis attire, and ill-fitting sundresses better suited for a backyard barbecue than an esteemed event steeped in historic prestige. Sure, many men showed up in classic polos and khakis – only for their beer bellies to spill shamelessly over their waistbands. By no means do I mean all – but enough. It’s a far cry from the elegance and respect for the game that defined earlier eras.
But there’s hope for the future, and for the game. 2025 and 2026 have been rough years for golf, marked by raucous behaviour, fistfights, drink-throwing incidents – including the Mrs McIlroy episode – and vulgarity. Yet there’s always 2027 to look forward to. Golf has spanned centuries of tradition and refinement, and if anything can weather these modern challenges, it’s a sport with such deep roots and enduring honour.
Author: Susan Foster
Lead image: Gloria Minoprio, a mysterious woman who in 1933, arrived at the English Ladies Championship in a Rolls-Royce, wore black trousers and blouse and a scarlet jacket. She played with only two clubs. © Central Press.
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