I deeply enjoy these sorts of distinctions in decorum, and the undercurrents of what it all must imply. It's all this subliminal signaling that tunes the pitch of an atmosphere to cultivate ideas.
Consider the duality of U.S. Marines, contrasting dress blues against combat BDU's. Or any military subculture for that matter.
Snappy dressers are trying to send a message about the money they burn on dry cleaning, and how early they get up to look sharp for their morning cup of coffee. How new their razor is, how orderly their coiffure seems. They have the time for this sort of thing, and they might have the time to waste on you ...if you're lucky.
And then there's nerd signaling. The next twelve hours to be spent scanning text, perched atop a swivel chair in comfortable clothes. Waking up possibly before before noon, because yesterday's dose of caffeine and inspiration carried through until 4:30 AM, when someone got their head bitten off in a forum by some cranky sleep-deprived rage about abuse of notation.
Meanwhile, in a court room, lives are irrevocably altered. People being hauled before a judge, to have their lives taken away from them, because they were born under a bad sign. There can't be any flippant hairstyles among the insiders of such a system. The whole point of showing up is to impress upon outsiders that a stone faced institution housed within a forrest of doric columns shall weigh and adjucate a decision. Clear voices in respectable, classic outfits must deliver verbal pronoucements with the reverb of a cavern older than the dawn of humankind. Janitors have mopped blood off these floors. This isn't some cluttered bedroom filled with the detritus of decades old junk.
Takes all kinds.