I didn’t set out to watch videos of art auctioneers for recreational purposes, but my algorithm has decided this is who I am now. Women in excellent ensembles selling art, prints, players and the occasional dinosaur for sums that feel like dares, switching languages mid-sentence, doing mental maths at hyperspeed and looking far more composed than I ever will. Somewhere between the finance, theatre and fashion, this very specific corner of the internet has become my favourite workplace.
It started with a Hokusai woodblock print and a number that made my brain briefly short-circuit. Xichu Wang at the podium, moving between English and Mandarin without breaking rhythm, recalibrating numbers in real time, while I struggled to follow along from my phone. The art was historic and the price was record-breaking. But what lodged itself in my brain was the confidence and the beautiful floral jacquard Tang jacket.
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From there, it spiralled. A few videos in and suddenly I was scrolling through Phyllis Kao’s auctions, not even for the lots anymore but to watch how she shows up and handles a room. There’s a lightness to it, like she’s aware this is high stakes but refuses to be stiff about it. You’re watching someone conduct themselves through tense situations without being tense.
In India, Mallika Sagar moves seamlessly between the art world and high-stakes sports auctions like the IPL, WPL and Pro Kabaddi League. At the IPL 2026 mini auction in Abu Dhabi, I found myself watching her as closely as the bids, my eye fixed on a sharply tailored red blazer while she calmly moved players.
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Then there’s Yü-Ge Wang at Christie’s, whose Huishan Zhang blazer during the auction of The Winter Egg by Fabergé seemed to attract almost as much comment as the record-breaking sale itself. Watching Liang-lin Chen feels almost choreographed, her gestures precise, measured, economical. Different rooms, different stakes, same composure and impeccable dressing.
What gets me is not just the skill, though that alone is humbling. Switching languages mid-bid. Translating numbers across systems. Making split-second decisions while millions of dollars are in play. I can barely do one language without losing my thread. These women are doing mental parkour in silk suits.
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For a long time, many women were taught that looking professional meant staying visually unremarkable. Safe tailoring. Neutral colours. Clothes designed not to distract, not to invite comment or complicate things. Fashion, especially when it suggested enjoyment, was often treated as something to downplay.
What’s interesting here isn’t that these auctioneers are “stylish.” It’s that they’re working in environments where judgement is a given, and yet they’re not dressing as if every choice needs to justify itself. To me, this is power dressing in the workplace.
I default to clothes that feel deliberately unremarkable. Things that won’t derail a conversation and promise I’m here to work, not be looked at too closely. That instinct made sense once. I’m less sure it still does. What feels newly obvious, watching these auctioneers, is that none of this is being demanded anymore. At least not in the way I was taught to anticipate.
What these auctioneers videos show, at least to me, is not freedom from judgment but a different negotiation with it. These women are operating in spaces where scrutiny is guaranteed and visibility is part of the job. And yet they’re not dressing as if every decision needs to defend itself. These women haven't offered me a solution but a comparison. And sometimes that’s enough to make the habits I've been calling “professional” look more like historical baggage than necessity.
Also read:
I struggled to find my personal style until I started dressing like a five-year-old
How to dress like a main character—according to four stylish women
